“Optimizing physics. Are you comfortable?” he asked.
She tried hard to summon anger, but all she felt was curiosity. And a spark of…excitement. Definitely different from the split second of panic she would have felt had another man pinned her. Of course, it helped knowing she could emasculate him if his little experiment got out of control.
“You know damn well I’m not comfortable. And that’s the biggest load of BS I’ve ever heard.”
“Possibly. Let’s give my theory a try.” He braced his arms on either side of her head.
“Go for it, cowboy.”
He settled into a leisurely rocking motion, the headboard responding with an anemic bump against the wall.
“Looks like your theory doesn’t hold water.”
“I’m just getting started.” Matthew held her gaze while he increased the pace and momentum. His eyes darkened.
The friction of his fully clothed body against hers was enough to remind her that lovemaking had once been pleasant. Her breasts tingled and her stomach tightened. She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good—”
“Shh.” Matthew dipped his head and kissed her, his tongue teasing her mouth.
Parting with a sigh that couldn’t have been her own, Angel’s lips betrayed her, inviting his tongue to play. He deepened the kiss, his body moving against hers. Whether by accident or design, his hips fit with hers as if they were making love. Even through two layers of clothing, her body welcomed his erection.
A firestorm of emotion nearly robbed her of the ability to think and breathe. Body and soul, she wanted Matthew to make love with her.
Matthew nibbled her lower lip, then pulled back a fraction, his eyes heavy-lidded, his breathing labored. “See, I told you.”
“Told me what?”
Instead of answering, he drew her earlobe into his mouth, sucking gently. The heat and moisture made the rhythmic caress almost torture.
Angel arched upward, sure she’d scream from the pleasure.
“I told you it would work.” He placed his finger over her lips, his movements strong. “Listen.”
Stifling a whimper of frustration, she forced herself to focus on his words rather than her instinct to beg him to continue.
“What worked?” she asked, her voice sounding hoarse and unnatural. Everything he’d done had worked all too well.
He bent close, his body moving the bed in an energetic rhythm. God, she hoped he’d do that earlobe thing again. “The headboard against the wall,” he whispered.
The familiar thwack-thwack of wood meeting wall filtered through her haze of need. With one last powerful thrust, Matthew rolled off her.
Leaving Angel more frustrated than she’d ever been before in her life.
MATTHEW STARED UP at the ceiling while his breathing slowed.
Angel didn’t move, didn’t speak.
He didn’t know what he’d expected from his ploy, but it definitely wasn’t silence.
Should he stay or go?
His body told him to stay and pick up where they’d left off. His brain told him to get the hell out of her bed. And his heart, thudding painfully in his chest, felt bruised and uncertain.
He was falling for Angel, plain and simple. He wanted to take a chance on them. And trying to get her to acknowledge their attraction was only the start. Fool that he was, he wanted her to admit she cared about him. As much as he cared about her.
Angel propped herself up on her elbow. “Why?”
Her question took him by surprise. “Because I’ve been thinking of it for a long time.”
“No. I mean why did you stop?”
“I wanted to force you to look at me in a different way. Pretty twisted, huh? As if one person can ever force another person to feel a particular way.” He chuckled low in his throat.
Angel rolled onto her back. She hesitated. “I’m not sure I wanted you to stop. No, I take that back. I’m certain I didn’t want you to stop.”
“That’s, um, good to know.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Because if he looked into her big brown eyes and saw an invitation, he’d be a goner.
Her hand snuggled into his, there on the mattress between them. Her voice was nonchalant when she asked, “Just out of curiosity, did you bring condoms with you?”
“Believe it or not, yes. Fortunately Jonathon’s friends weren’t very thorough searching my travel kit. It could have been…awkward.”
“So you figured you’d get laid this trip?”
“No. I always keep them in my kit. Like American Express says, don’t leave home without them.” He chuckled.
“That was a lame joke, Matt.”
He smiled. “Very lame.”
“You think we should postpone the trip to Jonathon’s study?”
“Definitely.” Because he felt as if he didn’t have a coherent thought left in his head.
“And, Matt?”
“Yes?”
“That’s good to know about the condoms. Not that I intend to act on the knowledge.”
“No, of course not.” They were back on familiar footing. But her barriers were dropping one by one.
His breathing slowed to a normal rate. His heart no longer thudded. He squeezed her hand. Contentment stole over him, wrapping him in warmth and promising sleep.
THE SOUND OF MUSIC intruded on Angel’s dream, where she’d been running through the rows of the garden, searching for Matthew.
The alarm. She reached blindly toward the nightstand and managed to turn it off.
Then she remembered Matthew.
She opened her eyes and slowly turned her head. Sure enough, he was there. Sleeping soundly but taking only half the bed, no more, no less. Leave it to Matt not to trespass even in his sleep.
That’s why his behavior the night before had surprised her. It wasn’t like Matthew to ignore boundaries. And it wasn’t like her to invite someone in.
Angel gingerly rolled out of bed, hoping she didn’t wake him. She wasn’t in the mood for morning-after awkwardness, even if they hadn’t made love.
She grabbed a dress and headed to the bathroom, getting ready for the day in record time.
Fortunately all was quiet as she exited the bathroom. Matthew was still asleep, his hair tousled, his cheeks and nose pink from his day out in the sun. All in all, he looked downright irresistible. Good thing he wasn’t awake and aware of it or she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Eleanor was already in the kitchen when she came downstairs. Surprisingly so was Ruth, who stopped speaking midsentence.
She gave Angel a nasty look and flounced out of the room.
“What’s with her? She’s up earlier than usual.”
“She wanted to speak to me about a problem. Apparently you and Matthew kept her up half the night.” Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
Angel’s face grew warm. “Oh.”
“Perhaps you can make a special effort to contain your…enthusiasm in an effort to be considerate.”
“Yes.” Angel tried to appear appropriately concerned. “We’ll try.”
“Good.”
The rest of the morning went downhill from there. Angel failed miserably at baking a peach pie. Dropped a plate and it broke. Was all thumbs and couldn’t string together a coherent sentence when Matthew came downstairs. And soon he would be home for their picnic lunch. She had to snap out of it.
Her movements were slow and hesitant as she wrapped their pasties—small meat pies she and Eleanor had just baked. Selecting fruit and sodas by rote, she removed her apron and smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You look fine, dear.” Eleanor smiled. “Matthew will think you’re beautiful.”
Angel wanted to tell her it didn’t matter whether Matthew found her attractive. But she couldn’t.
Instead she changed the subject. And if she got information in the process, all the better. “Eleanor, do you know what’s wrong with Matthew’s sister, Rebecca?”
“She has a…delicate cons
titution.”
That was an ambiguous answer if Angel had ever heard one. “Is that what keeps her from seeing him after all these years? I know he would love to see her.”
“Rebecca isn’t out and about much these days. Her condition keeps her inside much of the time, from what I understand.”
“Why isn’t her home clustered with the rest of Jonathon’s wives?”
Eleanor’s mouth thinned. “You’d really have to ask him. Why so many questions?”
“My mother always said I was more curious than a cat. It worries Matthew that he hasn’t seen his sister. I want him to be happy.”
Eleanor patted Angel’s cheek. “I know you do, dear. Now why don’t you wait out front? It will lift his heart just to see you there to greet him.”
“Yes, I guess it will.”
Angel picked up the canvas bag filled with their lunch and headed out the front door. She stood on the porch inhaling the fresh air.
To someone unaware of the nuances at Zion’s Gate, a few moments alone outside wouldn’t be seen as a treat. But she thought there was more to it than met the eye. Either Eleanor had been trying to get rid of Angel because of her pesky questions or she was starting to trust Angel. Gradually the restrictions on her were lifting.
Raising her face to the sun, she closed her eyes and absorbed the healing warmth. Sunshine never failed to soothe her spirits.
When she opened her eyes, Angel saw Matthew walking across the hard-packed dirt near Raphael’s homes. Recognition sizzled her nerves.
“Hey, you ready to go?”
“Yes. Eleanor suggested I wait for you out here. I think my incessant questions were getting on her nerves.”
“You? Get on someone’s nerves? Never.”
“Wait till the newlywed glow fades.”
He stepped close and took the bag from her hands. Pressing his lips to hers, his kiss was tender. “Ah, but you’re wrong. The glow will deepen with time and never fade.”
Angel cleared the lump in her throat. “Yeah, right, Romeo. Let’s go get some lunch.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THEIR PICNIC LUNCH seemed long ago at two in the morning when Angel broke into Jonathon’s study—something a good Zion’s Gate bride would never do.
Her schizoid existence was definitely wearing on her.
“Hurry,” Matthew murmured.
“It’s not easy in the dark.”
“No, I’m sure it’s very…hard.”
She turned her head and glared, letting him know his juvenile humor was not appreciated. Then returned to working the lock mechanism with her library card. Thank goodness Jonathon didn’t seem to feel elaborate security measures were needed. Probably thought Eleanor was the ultimate in home protection.
Angel felt a pang of remorse for thinking of the woman in an unkind way. Sad but true, Jonathon probably didn’t value Eleanor any more than he would a well-trained guard dog.
Angel opened the door and stepped quickly inside. Matthew followed.
Once in the room, they were able to utilize the glow from Matthew’s watch to see better.
“You’re sure we can’t turn on the light?” he asked.
“No. The light could be seen under the door.” She switched on the computer. “How are you at hacking?”
“I can find my way around a bit.”
“Good, because I missed that continuing-education class.”
“Then step aside and let me see what I can do.”
Angel watched over his shoulder as he worked around the password protection.
“Let’s go for financials first,” she suggested. “Any spreadsheets?”
“No, not a one. It looks like the only thing he uses this dinosaur for is researching genealogy. As if he’s trying to trace the Stones back to the Garden of Eden.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Exaggerating.” His fingers flew over the keys.
“Hey, you’re pretty good at this.”
“Should be. I spend most of my day on the computer.”
“Check his cookies. Maybe we’ll find something incriminating.”
“Define incriminating.”
“Child pornography, how to build a bomb in your basement, stuff like that.”
“Okay.”
Several minutes later he shook his head. “Clean as a whistle. A site with daily devotionals, more genealogy, a couple gardening sites.”
“Hey, pull up those gardening sites.”
The page loaded for the first site and it turned out as Angel had half suspected. “Hydroponics.”
“Gardening in water instead of soil. Sounds pretty boring.”
“Marijuana grows well in a hydroponic system. He might not have needed to know how to build a bomb in his basement. What’re the chances he’s growing weed instead?”
“Of any other leader, I’d say no way. But with Jonathon, I wouldn’t bet against anything if he thought it would serve his purpose. It’d have to be a pretty big space, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes. Can you think of anywhere with large unused areas? A barn, basement or attic?”
“Not offhand. But it’s not like they allow me to explore.”
“I don’t imagine the tunnel would be big enough. Maybe it’s time we resumed our evening explorations around the compound.”
“Could be.”
Angel thought she heard a noise coming from the hallway. “Shh.”
Matthew stilled.
Her pulse pounded. She reached for her weapon, only to find she didn’t have one. Just her library card and a butt-ugly cotton nightgown.
The seconds ticked by, but neither of them moved.
A metallic sound came from the door. Slowly the knob turned.
Had she remembered to lock the door behind them? The most basic rule in surveillance, and she couldn’t remember.
Holding her breath, Angel resisted the urge to pray. God had ignored her during worse scrapes than this, why should he start helping now?
The knob stopped at a quarter turn, where the lock engaged.
Angel released her breath.
They waited fifteen minutes, completely still and silent, before Angel opened the door a crack and peeked into the hallway. Nobody was there.
She signaled Matthew and he shut down the computer.
This time Angel took deliberate note of twisting the lock tab before shutting the door behind them. They stood still, listening.
When Angel didn’t hear anything more than ordinary night noises, she crept to the stairs, motioning Matthew to follow. She made a visual inspection and proceeded upstairs, careful to avoid the noisy steps.
Once in their room, Angel leaned against the door and exhaled. Her pulse pounded and adrenaline surged through her system. “I thought we were caught.”
Matthew leaned next to her. “You’re sure you heard something?”
“No, not positive. But I’ve learned to trust my gut. There was a noise I couldn’t identify. And the knob turned.”
“I have to admit all this cloak-and-dagger stuff is pretty exciting. We make a good team.”
Angel eyed him. “Are you sure you’re not a frustrated police academy candidate in disguise?”
“Nope. Never wanted to be a cop. I did want to be a firefighter for a long time. The idea of rescuing people appealed to me.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You seem to have that protector thing going on.”
“I don’t like to see people hurting. Particularly innocent people who can’t help themselves for one reason or another.” Matthew shrugged as if he’d revealed too much. And in a way he had.
“Were you ever abused, Matthew?”
He sat on the bed, silent, his expression thoughtful.
“Matthew?” She went to him and knelt at his feet, grasping his hands in hers.
“Not in the way you mean. I wasn’t beaten or sexually abused. But you could probably make a case for mental abuse after my mother married Jonathon. He never missed an opportunity to po
int out how worthless I was. I felt trapped, with nowhere to turn. And leaving was almost worse in some ways. We were really, truly on our own, cast out in a strange land.” He shook his head. “Sounds dramatic, I know.”
“No, it sounds like the truth.” Her heart went out to him. She hadn’t really considered how brave he must have been. “How amazing that you went on to have a normal life and make a success of yourself.”
“Anything I’ve done has been because my mom worked two jobs and searched out financial aid so I could get a college degree. And found the right people to help me learn what it meant to be a man in mainstream society.”
She smoothed the laugh lines around his mouth with her fingertips. “No, Matthew, you deserve some of the credit, too. You could have felt sorry for yourself and wasted your opportunities. Or fallen into the blame game.”
“Oh, I blame all right.”
“You’ve never acted like a victim, though.”
“I try not to let my origins determine who I am. But I haven’t learned the forgiveness part and that bothers me.”
“Some people don’t deserve to be forgiven.”
“The Bible tells me differently.”
Angel sighed. “I can’t debate religion, Matt. But I can tell you my husband was a cruel, evil man. And he totally deserved to die.” She glanced away. “I do wonder sometimes what would have happened had he lived. Would I have forgiven him and gone back, only to have him kill me in the end? Or would I still have gone into law enforcement and learned how to protect myself and others?”
“He can’t hurt you anymore, Angelina.” His voice was low, warm and reassuring. Matthew’s presence was enough to make it seem as if Kent had never existed. That she’d always been safe and always would be.
Angel leaned into the reassurance he represented. How she longed to let go of being a survivor and simply be a woman again. It was something she hadn’t been able to achieve with the few lovers she’d had since Kent. Sex had been a chore, something to be endured, not enjoyed.
Matthew wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “I think you would still have chosen a career helping others. Compassion is as much a part of you as breathing. You try to cover with tough talk, but that’s all it is—talk. Because you’re afraid people will use your kind heart against you. Like Kent did.”
Carrie Weaver - Count on a Cop Page 17