by Lori Foster
“I just told you, I already have.” He covered her hand with his own, holding it tight against him. “Trust me on this. I know more about it than you ever will and I have eons more experience.”
“What does that mean?”
Damn it. He swiped his hand through his hair, unwilling to tell her just how much experience he had with a situation such as this. Even thinking that far into the past made his head hurt. He narrowed his eyes and made his tone deliberately cold. “You’ve wasted your time coming here. Now let’s go. We’ll stop at the room you rented so you can pick up your stuff, and then head home. No reason to spend another night here.”
He had her halfway to his truck before she dug in her dainty heels. “I’m not going with you, Alec.”
His patience was at an end. He turned to her, then bent down until his nose was almost touching hers. “Yes you are. If I have to haul your stubborn hide over my shoulder and tie you in the damn truck, so be it. But one way or another I’m taking you home. Now.”
Her small body practically vibrated with anger, her eyes hot with it, and then her eyebrows lowered ferociously. “All right. I’ll come with you. But I’m not giving up this case.”
“Then you’re still fired.”
“I still quit,” she qualified, and slid into her seat. She didn’t look at him, but stared stonily ahead.
Alec braced one hand on the dash and the other on the roof of the truck. He leaned in close, using every intimidation tactic he knew. “When I inform Mrs. Barrington you’re no longer with the agency, do you think she’ll still be willing to pay your expenses?”
Celia curled her lip, for the moment too angry to be cowed by his excellent routine. One long manicured finger poked him in the chest with stinging force. “Fine. You do that and I’ll just work gratis. But one way or another I’m going to find out what’s going on with Hannah Barrington. I’m going to find out if her mother’s suspicions are correct. I’m going to help that girl. And you, Alec Sharpe, can’t do a single thing to stop me.”
Alec got out of the truck and slammed the door, afraid he’d strangle the little witch if he stayed that close to her a second longer. She knew how to push all his buttons. No one, male or female, had ever seemed to take so much delight in provoking him. Hell, most people were afraid to try! It wasn’t what he was used to, what he was accustomed to dealing with. Damn it, he wanted to see this at an end. He wanted Celia Carter kept safe.
He wanted her—period.
What a horrible situation to find himself in. He couldn’t do it, no matter how hard he tried, but he knew it would be best if he just stayed the hell away from her. From the day he’d met her, he’d seen all the signs. Miss Celia Carter was trouble with a capital T, and he had the bullet wound to prove it.
CHAPTER THREE
THE RIDE TO HER MOTEL was made in absolute silence before Celia decided she couldn’t take it anymore. Alec was being so boring, she was about to fall asleep. The quiet, along with the dark night and the breeze from the open windows were proving to be very hypnotic. She wasn’t even all that mad anymore. Alec couldn’t help being the way he was. His bossy arrogance seemed an innate part of his nature. And overall, she accepted that it was concern which prompted his temper. Concern for her. He was one of those incredible men who thought everyone smaller or weaker warranted his protection, and nearly everyone was smaller and weaker than Alec. Not that she would allow him to boss her, but at least she could understand why he wanted to try.
What had really kept her quiet for so long was the way he’d pulled away from her when she’d mentioned sleeping with Raymond. Evidently the awful truth of what she’d done, of what she’d allowed Raymond to do, disturbed him as well. But she couldn’t fault him for that, either. No one could disparage her horrid judgement any more than she did.
The quiet had given her plenty of time to think, though, and she’d come to several conclusions. She didn’t like it, but she was forced to face the truth. She needed Alec’s help.
Staring at his hard profile, she sighed. “So are you going to brood all night?”
“Yes.”
She almost laughed at that, her mood lifting slightly. He was such a big, dark, awesome man to admit to actual brooding. But she could see he was more relaxed now, too. That ever-present aura of danger that loomed around him like a thick black cloud had softened. His hands were no longer gripping the steering wheel as if he might snap it in two, and his jaw wasn’t as tightly clenched.
Celia smiled at him, hoping to cajole him into a more agreeable frame of mind. “I have a sort of ‘off the topic’ question for you.”
He gave her a suspicious look, his black gaze cutting over her features before he reluctantly shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“How did you know where I was? I made a point not to drive, to take the dumb slow bus instead so people would see my car in the driveway and think I was still at home.” She didn’t mention that the “people” she’d most wanted to elude was Alec. But as usual, he was one step ahead of her.
As she spoke, he pulled into the motel parking lot where she’d rented a room. Celia shook her head in amazement. “And how did you know I was staying here?”
He made an impatient sound and shut off the truck’s motor. “I’m a P.I. This is what I do.”
He shifted in his seat to face her, one long arm stretching out along the back of the seat, almost touching her. The darkness of the cab’s interior closed around them, relieved only by the lights of sporadic traffic. She could smell his scent, feel the warmth of his big body. His arm with the tattoo was closest to her, and she glanced at it. It was too dark for her to see it clearly, but she’d studied it many times and always wondered at the significance. A man like Alec didn’t tattoo his arm with a heart, pierced by an arrow, for no reason. She just didn’t have the nerve to ask him what that reason might be.
She shifted restlessly in her seat. “But how?” she demanded, going back to her original question. He narrowed his gaze, his look calculating, and she warned, “Don’t you dare lie to me, Alec.”
One finger touched her hair, twining around a loose curl, unnerving her further and filling her stomach with sensual butterflies. He watched his hand, his dark eyes glinting in the soft moonlight. She saw the moment he decided to tell her the truth. His shoulders lifted in a slight, unconcerned shrug. “I broke into your house and found your travel plans.”
Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him in utter disbelief. She took refuge from his overwhelming nearness in the flash of anger that jarred her wits back. “You did what?”
Disgruntled, he released her and opened his door. Celia scrambled out her own side before he could circle the truck, then stepped in front of him, hands on hips, chin thrust out, blocking his way. “You broke into my house?” she demanded, injecting as much outrage in the words as she could. He ignored her and she had to quickly backstep since he didn’t stop, then was forced to skip to keep up with him.
“I didn’t do any damage.” He said it as if that would be her only concern, as if the invasion of her privacy was nothing at all. He glanced down at her, then added, “You need an alarm system. I’ll take care of it when we get back.”
Celia slung her purse strap over her shoulder and clasped both hands around the back waistband of his tight jeans as he started up the outside stairs leading to her second-floor room. She dug in her heels, but only got dragged in his wake. “Damn it, Alec, will you wait up a minute?”
“We can talk in your room, honey, while you pack up.”
She stumbled on the concrete steps and he reached back, disengaging her hands and pulling her up alongside him. He kept a solicitous hand at her elbow, offering her support in her high heels. “Did you hurt yourself when you leaped out of my truck?”
“No.” Nothing more than a tender ankle, and since he’d blown off the impact of a bullet wound to his thigh, she certainly wasn’t going to complain about something so minor.
“Good.” He continued dragging her al
ong.
Celia seethed. She had no intention of packing up. In fact, she still had hopes of convincing Alec to stay and help her. Alec and Dane were forever claiming “gut instincts” to account for every hunch they had that couldn’t be explained, but proved true nonetheless. Well, she had a wrenching, screaming “gut instinct” right now, and it was telling her that Hannah Barrington was in big trouble and Celia was her only hope. She couldn’t, wouldn’t turn her back on Hannah now, no matter what. If she did give up on the twenty-year-old girl, she’d never again be able to face herself in the mirror. But she was smart enough to know her chances of actually helping Hannah would be much better if Alec lent his expertise. Getting him to do that would be tricky.
Especially if she killed him first.
When they reached the landing and circled to her room, Alec turned to face her. He reached for her purse and Celia knew a physical struggle would be pointless. He was coming in and since she hoped to convince him to help her, she didn’t want to cause a fuss about it. Still, she snatched her purse out of his reach and glared at him. “I’ll get the key. Just hold on a second.”
He was impatient, looming over her as if he expected her to pull out a gun instead. Ha! If she had one, she would already have hit him over the head with it. Celia thrust the key into his hand and said at the same time, “I can’t believe your gall. How would you like it if I broke into your home?”
He swung the door open and reached inside for a light. His voice was pitched low, with a husky drawl. “Anytime you want to visit my place, honey, you just let me know. The invitation is always open.”
Celia sputtered, annoyed at what she was sure was another sexual reference. Then the light spilled over them and Alec could suddenly see into her room.
For once his look was comical rather than terrorizing. “What the hell?”
Celia peeked around his shoulder, and flinched. She’d forgotten that she’d left the room in such cluttered disarray. The room’s dingy carpeting could barely be seen for the objects covering it. Alec slowly turned to stare down at her, one black brow quirked high. “What the hell have you been up to?”
“Exercising?” Her voice emerged as an embarrassed squeak. The personal goals she’d set for herself were just that—personal. She didn’t want anyone, especially Alec, to know about them.
He blinked twice, his look filled with skepticism, then again surveyed her room. He took his time, his gaze going over the padded floor mat, the ankle and wrist weights, the five-pound barbells, a jump rope, and finally landing on the expandable chin-up bar she had wedged open in the bathroom doorway. So far, she’d managed to get her chin over it twice. He shook his head, and his long hair skimmed over his shoulders. “Who the hell do you think you are? That crazy broad from the Terminator movie?”
Celia’s face burned and she reluctantly followed him inside, pausing beside the door. “I’m just trying to stay in shape. I was getting too soft.”
His gaze caught hers and held. Two heartbeats later, he slowly reached around her and shoved the door shut with the flat of his hand. His other palm landed on the wall next to her head, caging her in. She could feel his thick wrists just touching her bare shoulders as he leaned down toward her, angling his chest so close she inhaled his scent with every rapid breath she took. “Crazy Celia,” he muttered, nuzzling close to her. “I like you soft.”
She thought about ducking. She thought about running. Her body had other thoughts.
When his mouth touched hers, it was like tasting live electricity. She jerked, gasping at the same time and giving him the opportunity to sink his tongue into her open mouth. Her responding groan told him things she didn’t want him to know.
He ate at her mouth, big, soft, slow love bites that made her want more, made her chase his mouth with her own. She loved how he kissed. “Alec…”
“Hush, it’s okay, baby.” And then he gave her that killer kiss again until her arms were tight around his neck, their bodies fused together, rocking. He was so incredibly hard, so solid. She loved the way his breath was broken, how his hands shook, and the way his hips pushed rhythmically against her where she needed the pressure most…
His mouth moved to her throat, making her toes curl.
“I don’t want to do this,” she whispered, but where the words came from she had no idea. She hadn’t been touched like this in a long time, and she wanted him so badly, her body was with him every step of the way.
Alec growled, “Yes you do.”
Yes I do.
He skimmed one narrow shoulder strap down her arm while his mouth left damp, hot kisses over the sensitive skin of her collarbone, the hollow of her shoulder, the slope of her upthrust breast. She felt cool air touch her breast, then the incredible, contrasting heat of his rough palm as he slid his hand inside her bra. They both groaned together at the exquisite feel of it.
His forehead touched hers, his eyes closed as if in pain while he caressed her, gently learning the shape of her, weighing her in his palm. She could feel a subtle trembling in his entire body, could feel the harsh, rapid thumping of his heartbeat, echoing her own.
“Celia?” He continued to caress her, but his tone sounded strained, as if he held his control on a very tight, very fragile leash. He rubbed her belly with his erection, making certain she understood what he asked.
Tears threatened. Her body was screaming for her to say yes, to give in. It wouldn’t take much to send her over the top, to make her mindless with release. Just the way he cupped her breast, the rough rasping of his thumb over her tender nipple, had her on the verge of climax. She felt empty and hungry, every nerve ending sizzling and alive.
And that’s what upset her most of all.
Why did it have to be this way? Why was she so damn easy? She wanted to be ruled by her mind, by her caring and intelligence and pride. Not by animal lust. Alec had made it plain that he thought her incompetent, that he didn’t want a relationship with her, only sex. And her body didn’t care.
The sob caught her by surprise, shaming her further. Alec froze, going painfully still against her, and then he pulled his hand free and gathered her close and the emotions swelled inside her until they overflowed. She didn’t want to cry on his shoulder, but as usual, he wasn’t giving her any choice.
She struggled to get away from him, but his arms locked around her, not allowing so much as an inch between them.
“Shhh, it’s all right.” One big hand pressed to the back of her head and forced it into the notch of his shoulder. She knew her tears were wetting his bare skin; she could feel the hot, soft skin of his throat against her face. His other hand rubbed up and down the length of her spine, consoling her, comforting her, filling her with immeasurable guilt for letting things get so far out of hand.
After half a minute of fighting the inevitable she clutched him tight. It simply felt too good to be held, to be comforted. Through rough sobs and humiliating sniffles, she managed to choke out, “I don’t want to want you, damn it.”
He rubbed his cheek against her head and answered softly. “Yeah, I think I figured that out.”
She didn’t have room for much leverage, but she got a fairly decent thump of her fist against his solid chest. “Not y-y-you, dummy. Anyone.”
His hand paused in its stroking, then picked up the soothing rhythm again. “Care to tell me why?”
“No.”
“Celia.” His sigh blew over her damp cheek. He tried to look at her face, but she tucked it close to him and held on tight when he tried to tilt her back. She knew her makeup was ruined and she wasn’t done crying, so she had no intention of having him ogle her. “Honey, I have a hard-on that could kill, and it’s not going to be going away anytime soon. Don’t you think it might be nice if you just explained things to me? I really would like to understand.”
She shook her head.
“I know you wanted me.” Again he tried to look at her, wanting confirmation, and again she resisted. “I mean, with the way you were kis
sing me and moving against me. And your nipples were—”
She groaned, and quickly nodded.
“Then why not, honey? We’re both adults. I wouldn’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
She thumped him again, indignant. “I’m not afraid of you.”
She heard the smile in the way he answered. “Yes, you are.”
“Well, only sometimes.” She sniffed once more and wiped her eyes on his T-shirt, keeping her face close so he still couldn’t look at her. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet, not herself, certainly not him. “You try to make me afraid.”
“No.”
“Yes you do. You try to make everyone afraid.”
His fingers tangled in her hair and began massaging her scalp. She still felt aroused, but now she felt sleepy, too, utterly drained and strangely protected. She hadn’t cried much since finding out her fiancé was a slimeball using her to hurt her family and hoping to get rich in the bargain. She’d refused to allow herself that luxury. But crying now had felt good, sort of cathartic and cleansing. She drew a slow deep breath, and ended up hiccuping.
Alec kissed her temple. “Celia, why don’t you want to make love with me?”
The way he said that made her want to throw him on the bed and do unspeakable things to his hard, gorgeous body. She started shaking again and he held her a little closer, lending his quiet support. Finally, unable to figure a way out of it, she shamefully whispered, “I’m not like most women.”
That gave him pause and she could feel him thinking, coming up with so many ridiculous, off-base ideas. She shook her head. “I don’t mean…I’m not physically different. Well, that is…”
“Just tell me straight out, honey. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
A nervous, almost hysterical giggle escaped her tight lips. Oh, she had no doubt he’d love to deal with it. Raymond certainly hadn’t objected, though he’d occasionally taunted her with her weakness. After he’d been found out, Raymond had taken great pleasure in telling her how easy she’d been, how she’d offered no real challenge at all. Well, she would never be easy again, though Alec Sharpe surely did wear on her convictions.