by Julie Miller
Brodie's arms tightened around her. “Didn't Jake know what you were going through?”
“Yes. But what could he do? He was a single parent who had no understanding of little girls and no idea what to do with a genius child. When he visited, he took me to ball games and showed me how to build model airplanes.”
Her story indirectly explained the mess in her house, the tomboyish clothes she wore. She'd never had a childhood. So she had created one for herself as an adult. She had been a lonely little girl surrounded by people who treated her as an object, a phenomenon, not as a person.
She knew Brodie understood.
Her fingers tightened their grip on his jacket. He'd push her away soon, but for now she clung to him, seeking the strength to finish. “Jake was the only person who treated me like a child. To everyone else, I was a case study. A scientific experiment.”
“A lab rat,” Brodie concluded.
“When I was older, I went through some counseling. You can imagine how I handled their probing into my life. Damon was a huge help. When he took me on as his protégée, he gave me a purpose. He helped me discover ways to use my talents. I thought I had put all of those old fears to rest. Until now.”
She tipped her head back, needing to see Brodie's expression, needing to know he didn't judge her as some kind of freak.
She caught a glimpse of something wild and fiery before the gray eyes shuttered. “Now?” he prompted.
BJ didn't question his reaction. Anger and mystery seemed to be a big part of who he was. “They're playing with my head again. All those years as a child I thought someone wanted to take over who I was, wanted to control me. I felt as if they wanted to cut open my head and take my brain for themselves. Now it's happening all over again. I feel like I'm that scared little girl.”
Brodie folded his calloused palm around her chin, capturing her in a grip somewhere between reprimand and comfort. “You're not that little girl anymore. You're a grown woman. And this time there's somebody on your side.”
He touched his lips to hers, blotting out the power behind his guttural promise. His kiss was hard, hot, and over before BJ could respond.
With abrupt force, he lifted her off his lap and plopped her on the cushion beside him.
“Brodie?” Her lips burned from the incendiary contact. His brief caress kindled the spirit within her, bringing her to her feet a second behind him. “I just wanted to explain…”
“I need to check the grounds outside.” He strode to the door, forcing her into double time to catch up to him. When she touched his arm, he pulled away from her and looked down at her with such fury that she wondered if she had dreamed his tenderness and concern.
The hinges hung on for dear life when he swung the door open. “What's the security code?”
“No way.”
“I have to know your damn security codes!”
She recoiled to a safer distance. “N-O-W-A-Y. The numerical equivalent.”
He didn't comment on how clever or ridiculous her password sounded, or apologize for his outburst or that kiss. He was beyond civil conversation. “Lock it behind me. If you need me, yell. I'll be here.”
The door slammed shut on his promise, leaving BJ in the fallout of Hurricane Brodie. She hugged herself protectively and licked her lips, tasting salty tears and something more. Something he had stamped there. She wasn't the only one surprised by that kiss. Brodie's abrupt departure confirmed it.
BJ rubbed her arms and headed to her office. The male of the species was one subject she hadn't aced. She didn't presume to comprehend this one.
She sat down and turned on the monitor. Computers she understood. They never called her eccentric or judged that she was too successful.
Today she had sought security and acceptance from Brodie, a man who very clearly liked to keep his distance, a professional who didn't like to get personally involved. With the episode at the office and the confessions here at home, she had probably invaded every bit of personal space that Brodie guarded.
No wonder he'd left so suddenly. By choice a recluse, Brodie had reluctantly come out of hiding only to repay a debt he felt he owed a friend. She didn't doubt he had gone outside in order to escape her company, to be alone again to recover his icy composure.
She should honor his need for privacy. She should keep her distance for her own sake as well as his. But a part of her couldn't help wishing that the fire would return to his eyes. And that for a few moments out of time, he would drive away the demons that haunted her mind, and make her feel the way no man except her father had.
Normal.
The stars rode high above a churning bank of clouds. The still heat hit him like a wall. Thunder rolled in the distance. Static lightning charged the sky, like torches blinking on and being snuffed out. The scent of rain told him the downpour would reach here any minute.
The violence matched his mood.
Brodie ran into the darkness, pushing his body to its top speed. He ran until he felt alone and swallowed up by the swirling night.
Then he braced his feet, tipped his head back and howled his endless rage at the coming storm. Somewhere in the distance, Duke barked. In that moment, Brodie hated the little dog. He hated him for seeing what BJ could not.
That Brodie Maxwell was a freak. That he was a monster inside and out.
Brodie dropped to his knees, conceding a begrudging bit of respect for the dog. Duke did everything in his power to protect his mistress. But the fiercest dragon in the world couldn't protect anyone from Brodie. Once the cycle had started, their doom would be inevitable.
And the cycle had started. Damn it all, he’d kissed her!
He hurt for her. He went to her and gathered her in his arms when her memories grew too difficult for her to bear. Could there be anything more dangerous than caring for a woman? The injustices of her childhood churned the anger inside him. It was his nature to protect, and she had been so vulnerable.
Thunder cracked and the moon vanished behind the clouds. He tilted his face to the heavens that had forgotten him and waited for the cold rain to pelt his skin.
BJ looked at him as if he were a man, not an object. She expected decent, normal behavior from him. She stood up to the monster, yet turned to the man for comfort.
The rain hit his forehead and ran into the crevices of his cheek. Lightning forked to the ground in the distance. He should seek the heart of the storm and let the next bolt strike him. But that wouldn't help BJ. Nothing could help her now.
For what seemed a lifetime, he had managed to keep the danger at bay. But somehow, on this day, he had slipped. Irrevocably and unforgivably. He sealed BJ's fate just as surely as the criminal who stole her thoughts and ideas.
Because Brodie had started to care.
Thunder echoed in the distance by the time Brodie finished circling the grounds surrounding the house. Wet jeans plastered his legs, and his shirt collar clung like a clammy second skin beneath his water-stained jacket. He had walked the duration of the storm, become one with the elements until he could push everything out of his head except his sense of duty.
As Brodie neared the house, the mantle of warrior awareness slipped over his shoulders. Forget today, he chided himself. Tomorrow's investigation would be more insightful. Sassy women with tell-all eyes would not affect his ability to ferret out the truth.
But when Brodie stepped onto the porch, his cool detachment evaporated. Something was wrong. His scalp tingled in anticipation, his radar sensing danger before he saw it. The interior lights were out and the door stood ajar. Could a power failure have tripped the security system? He thought BJ had mentioned a backup generator.
Slipping into the shadows against the house, Brodie reached behind him and pulled a hunting knife from the sheath on his belt. He rolled the leather handle until it fit snugly in his hand and became a lethal extension of his own body.
He slid along the siding to the door frame, nudging the door with his boot. In one smooth motion, he swu
ng the door open and dropped to the floor inside. He crouched low behind the furniture, keeping his eyes open for anything, straining his ears to hear some sign of BJ.
He heard crunching and scratching through the kitchen. The damn guard poodle was eating a midnight snack.
With an ugly sigh, he rolled to his feet. BJ probably was sound asleep in her room. The open door was probably just a fluke. Still, his instincts had carried him through many battles. He wasn't ready to discount their warning signal just yet.
His boots squeaked with dampness as he systematically checked the rooms. He found everything dark and silent until he reached the far wing of the house.
A pulsing light flickered through an open doorway at the end of the hall. He crept closer and looked inside.
BJ's office.
The only light in the room came from the computer monitor on the desk in one corner. Gray illumination flickered from rows and rows of data scrolling across the screen. A second desk with another computer setup lined the opposite wall. In between were scattered stacks of drawings and printouts, a battered recliner, and a trail of discarded clothing.
“I've been waiting for you.”
Brodie whipped his head around as a shadowy figure emerged from the corner. The husky honey drawl belonged to a woman who looked like BJ, yet didn't.
“You should be asleep. Are you all right?” He sheathed his knife without taking his eyes off her.
“I am now.”
The differences in her appearance became apparent as she sauntered toward him. She had removed her jeans, socks, and shoes. She still wore the baseball jersey, but looked nothing like an innocent kid in it now. The hem fell to a tantalizing line near the top of her thighs where the curve of her hips began. She had unbuttoned the top to a point halfway down her cleavage. One side fell open, revealing the swell of a breast.
Brodie's gut clenched inside him. She wasn't wearing a bra. In fact, he could pretty well guess that she wasn't wearing much of anything beneath that clingy, unexpectedly sexy jersey.
He didn't need this. “BJ, what's going on?”
Cotton rustled as her hips swayed beneath the fabric.
“Did something happen?” His eyes narrowed questioningly, then accusingly as she pressed herself against him.
“I got scared. But I feel safer with you here.”
He was ready to wrap a comforting arm around her when she stepped back.
“You're soaked.” Her fingertip caught the top button of his shirt and unhooked it. “You'd better get out of these before you catch a cold.”
She slipped to undo another button, and he grasped her wrist to stop her. “I'm fine. What scared you?”
She lifted her free hand and tugged open the zipper on his jacket.
“BJ.”
She giggled secretively, seductively. “You're dripping on the rug.”
When he looked to see the damage, she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. She twisted behind him and pulled the sodden leather off, letting it fall to the floor.
“Oh, yes.”
He turned and questioned her downward focus. “What are you doing?”
“Fantasizing.”
She sounded as if she were joking about his backside. He reached for the light switch near the door, but she pushed him back. She had two more buttons undone before he snatched her by the wrists. “Stop this. You don't know what you're doing.”
“You said I was a grown woman.”
“It wasn't an invitation.”
“Of course it was. You try to be tough, but you're still a man. A man I want.” BJ tipped her head back, exposing the long column of her throat down to…damn. Her jersey had picked up the dampness from his clothes, clinging and revealing high, firm breasts whose pouty tips flirted with him.
Suspicious mistrust flamed inside him even as his jeans grew tight. His anger fluttered into focus again. Not at BJ, but at himself for reacting like a man instead of her protector.
She ignored his grip on her and rose on tiptoe, pressing her lips against an aroused male nipple. Her touch sent a shockwave straight through him. He had never imagined this forthright woman to be such a tease. Did she think toying with his baser needs was some kind of joke?
He might be a living, breathing freak of nature. But he still felt normal male desire.
He gave her wrists a slight shake, not wanting to hurt her, but wanting her to realize that she played with fire by taunting him. “BJ, you're exhausted. I don't think you know…”
She inched her body forward, rubbing herself against him. She knew exactly what she was doing. The tips of her breasts brushed against his stomach and he caught his breath.
If her honey sweet voice warmed him, her body set him on fire.
But her actions angered him. He had sworn an oath to protect her. Did she think she needed to pay for his help by sacrificing her self-respect? Was this the kind of comfort she craved?
He released her wrists and grabbed her shoulders. “Don't do this. You don't know anything about me.”
Her response was to unfasten the top button of his jeans and pull out the tail of his shirt. “I know all I need to.”
Brodie felt the vestiges of self-restraint slipping away. Nobility became hard to hold onto. Years of denied need slowly eradicated an age-old promise to never become involved with a woman again.
BJ was intelligent. She had the IQ to prove it. She had to know where this was leading.
“BJ. Stop.”
It was a pathetic command. He wanted it. He wanted her. He had found no true release outside. His rage still simmered below the surface. Now, the embers of passion mingled with it.
This wasn't right. Yet she was so seductive, so sure of what she wanted. He hated that he had misread her so. He hated himself even more for losing control of his self-imposed distance.
Dear Lord, part of him was still human. Muttering an oath about eternal damnation, Brodie scooped her up by her bottom and lifted her high off the floor. He crushed her mouth beneath his, locking her in a fiery conflagration that consumed them both.
Chapter Three
He wrapped her legs around his waist, swallowing her triumphant cry. Her hands clutched wildly at him, ripping his shirt open, digging her fingers into the hard muscles of his chest. Her nails teased his skin, eliciting shockwaves that made him dizzy. She fired his cool, damp skin everywhere she touched him.
Brodie collapsed in the chair and reclined it backward, stretching her out on top of him. Her lips left his to softly trace the trails marked by her fingernails. His hands roamed beneath her jersey, finding nothing but a pair of plain cotton panties to impede his progress.
Brodie loved the feel of her, solid and curved in all the right places. And not so fragile that he felt she was going to snap in two beneath his big hands.
With impatient clumsiness, he unfastened her jersey and tossed it to the floor. When his mouth found her breast, she arched her body backward, snatching at his hair and clasping his head to her.
BJ's guttural response fueled his need for her. Briefly, he thought of slowing things down for sanity's sake. But BJ had other things on her mind. She shifted and guided the other breast to his willing mouth. Her bold maneuvers enticed him into a trap from which he didn't want to escape. Brodie obliged her by rolling his tongue around the rosy peak, teasing and sucking until she cried out his name.
Lifetimes had passed since he had known loving to be this good. This free. This passionate. He was mindless with her uninhibited need. Somehow he had misjudged her. This irresistible seductress simply couldn't be as innocent as he had imagined. He felt bound to claim her. To take what she so eagerly offered.
“BJ,” he gasped, seeking her mouth again, dragging the lower part of her body squarely over his. She rubbed her heat against his, temporarily robbing him of the ability to speak. He slid his hands over her hips and stilled her provocative moves. “This isn't the best time to explain why I don't carry any protection. But I promise I can't
hurt you. I can't get you pregnant.”
“Just shut up and kiss me again.” BJ lifted her head and smiled wickedly at him, her lips swollen with his kisses, her eyes …
That was when he saw it. The blank look in her eyes. Like an invisible curtain shrouding the natural light and sparkle.
That look carried him back centuries in time. Back to a time when sorcerers cast spells and damned warriors with curses.
Her eyes could see, yet saw nothing. He clasped her head between his hands, squeezing a little roughly, forcing her to look at him when she wanted to return her attentions to his body.
“BJ, look at me.” He shook her without hurting her, and tried to capture her hands to stop them from bewitching his body with their erotic play.
“Damn it, BJ! Do you see me? Do you know who I am?”
She wedged her peach-soft thigh between his legs, and he damned his body for its involuntary response.
“Bridget!”
Suddenly BJ froze, stock-still above him. Even by the dim light of the computer, he could see the color draining from her body. She blinked rapidly, like a sleeper startled into wakefulness.
Her tentative fingers traced the most hideous scar on his body, the abstract zigzag that covered his heart. He knew she was seeing it for the first time. Really seeing it. She started to shake.
“Brodie?”
A panicked whisper replaced her husky sexiness.
In a sudden jerky movement, BJ rolled off the chair and stood, shaking, clutching her arms across her naked breasts.
Her gaze darted around the room and back to him. Brodie slowly straightened the chair and got up, moving cautiously, never taking his eyes off her. She cowered like a cornered animal, expecting to be attacked at any minute from any direction.
“BJ?” He ignored the protests of his body and kept his voice low and steady. “Do you know where you are?”
She glanced around her. Her nod was quick, rabbit-like. “Home.”