Untraceable

by Laura Griffin

  He gazed up at her, and even in the dim light from the kitchen she could see the heat in his eyes. “Always calling the shots.”

  “Yep,” she said, watching the heat flare again as she knelt in front of him. He wore leather work boots, and she pulled off one. Then the other. Then she pulled off his socks and tossed them away. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. She kissed his palm, and his eyes darkened some more.

  Then she stood up and settled onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw, right below his ear where he was scratchy with stubble. He smelled like the grill and, very faintly, like aftershave. She nuzzled closer.

  His hands were on her hips again, and he adjusted them until she was nestled right on top of the rock-hard bulge in his jeans.

  “You’ve been in my shower,” he said, trailing kisses down her throat.

  “Hmm… How did you know?”

  His hands slid around and up, to cup her breasts. “I’m a detective.” He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, and she arched into him. His mouth trailed lower. She sighed happily as she felt the warmth of his mouth on her breast through the thin fabric. He sucked her, hard, and she squirmed in his lap as the warm ache spread everywhere.

  He felt so good. Everything about him. But he was wearing entirely too many clothes and she wanted to feel his skin under her hands, so she tugged his T-shirt free from his jeans and pulled it up. He lifted his arms to help her, and by the time his shirt hit the floor, she was already bent over, kissing and nipping at his collarbone.

  “I love your chest,” she said.

  His hands found her breasts again. “I love yours, too.”

  And she smiled because he sounded so earnest, even though she didn’t have the kind of breasts men lusted over.

  At least not usually. This man was doing a pretty good job. And she wasn’t even naked yet.

  He seemed to notice that, too, and he caught the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms over her head and yelped when pain shot through her shoulder.

  He froze. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She lowered her arms and rolled her shoulder. “Just a little sore.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, and she knew he was going to try to put on the brakes.

  “Are you up for this?”

  “Yes,” she said, and eased her elbow through the armhole.

  He flattened his hands on the chair arms and watched her, as if he were afraid to touch her now, and she could feel the passionate mood slipping away. She got the shirt over her head and tossed it away.

  “See? I’m fine.”

  He looked into her eyes, still wary, and she shifted on his lap to remind him where they were. His gaze dropped to her body. Slowly, his hands moved to circle her waist, and she suddenly felt totally exposed. Which she was. His hands glided up her body to curve around her face and comb into her hair.

  Gently, he pulled her face to his and kissed her mouth, her chin, her throat. And then the mood was back, only different now, because he was going slower, taking his time. His warm palms settled on her thighs and kneaded them softly as he kissed the side of her neck and she shivered. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, letting the moment wrap around her, letting everything disappear, all the stress and fear and anxiety of the past few weeks. It all went away except him and his hands and his mouth on her body and the way he knew just how to make her quiver.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, and she opened her eyes and saw that he was watching her while he touched her.

  She felt self-conscious now, so she turned the attention on him, kissing him deeply. She reached for his belt, and he stretched his legs out and leaned back to give her better access. Her fingers trembled as she worked at the buckle. She glanced at his face, to see if he’d noticed, but she couldn’t tell. Finally, she got the belt undone and then the snap. She took her time pulling down the zipper. Then he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and kept her from falling backward as he leaned against the chair arm and dug something out of his back pocket.

  She sat up on her knees and busied herself kissing his jaw, his neck, his shoulders. His wallet thudded to the ground, and she caught the glint of a foil packet in his hand.

  She kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him again, all the while waiting for the bittersweet pain she knew was coming as he lifted her hips and lowered her onto him.

  Her breath caught. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Alex?” His voice was tight.

  “I’m okay,” she said, and kissed him to shut him up. He seemed to believe her because he moved beneath her, rocking into her, as she moved against him, trying to get as close as she possibly could.

  And then it was all good, only good, only pleasure, as they moved together in a blissful rhythm, his hands stroking up her back, then down again. They were together, completely, and with that wonderful friction, she felt the knot of loneliness deep inside her start to come loose. His solid arms wrapped around her, and the urgency was back, along with the impatient, insatiable hunger of that first kiss in the parking lot at Eli’s, when he’d seemed to want to swallow her whole. And she closed her eyes and felt the hardness of his mouth against hers, the rasp of his beard, the broad wall of his chest against her breasts as she moved against him and against him and against him. And then his hands were gripping her, moving her, pulling her closer and closer and he called her name again, like a plea, as she shattered and broke apart.

  His muscles went rigid, and she held on to the moment as long as she could before she slumped against him and buried her face against his neck.

  A minute drifted by. Then another. She rested her head on his shoulder and her palm on his damp chest. She felt his heartbeat under her fingers and loved knowing she’d made it pound like that. His hands stroked up her back and tangled into her hair. He pulled her head back gently and blinked at her with a heavy-lidded gaze.

  “Wow,” he said.

  She smiled.

  “I mean it. Where you been keeping all that?”

  She kissed his chin, then settled her head on his shoulder again. His arms wrapped around her, and for a while they just sat there, listening to the faint sound of country music next door. Alex closed her eyes and sighed.

  He hadn’t been holding out on her. He’d told her about dragging the lake. And the knowledge that she could trust him banished the very last of her reservations. She’d completely let her guard down, but now it was time to rebuild it, at least a little. He’d have questions. He didn’t miss a thing. And certain details he’d let go earlier, while she was licking her wounds in his bathroom, were going to come back again. He kissed the top of her head, and she felt a rush of regret for all the lying she planned to do.

  He didn’t say anything as she disentangled herself from him and slid out of his lap. Her knees ached as she stood up and turned around, searching for her shirt. She pulled it over her head and felt his strong arms wrap around her from behind.

  “How’s the shoulder?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” And then he caught her hand in his and pulled her toward the bedroom.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “But…” she tried to think of a reasonable protest as he towed her down the hallway. “Don’t you need a break?”

  He halted in the doorway, and before she knew it, he’d scooped her off her feet. She squealed in surprise.

  “You’re gonna pay for that,” he said, and dropped her right onto her bare butt on the bed. Then he sank down next to her, and she rolled into him, laughing.

  “I doubt it,” she said.

  He made a low growl and pinned her beneath him, planting his hands on either side of her head to hold his weight up so he wouldn’t crush her, and her heart melted a little because she knew he was still being careful of her shoulder.

  “You picking a fight?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled up at hi
m and hooked her leg around his.

  “Good,” he said gruffly, and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. And then the lightness of the moment faded as he gazed down at her. She gave in to the urge to reach up and slide her fingers into his hair as she studied his face in the dimness. He was a good man. She didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by lying to him. But it was his goodness that was going to stand in her way.

  He kissed her again, harder this time, deeper, and that ache of desire started to build again. She wrapped herself around him and pushed tomorrow out of her mind as he made good on his promise to make her pay.

  “Remind me never to shower with you again.”

  Alex turned and glowered at him from beneath a head full of suds. “I was here first!”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve been in here forever. You think you might want to be a little more generous with the hot water?”

  She turned around and tipped her head back, giving him a truly amazing view as she rinsed her hair.

  “Ladies first,” she said, and opened one eye to look at him. “Hey, don’t stare at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  She turned her back on him, feigning modesty. “Like I’m an exhibit in a zoo or something.”

  He lathered his hands with soap and stroked them over her shoulders, then down her back and over her hips. He couldn’t get enough of all those soft, subtle curves. “It’s my shower. I’m allowed to stare as much as I want.”

  She scooped her hair into a ponytail and squeezed the water out. Then she swept the curtain aside, but he caught her around the waist.

  “Not so fast.”

  “It’s all yours,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m finished.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not.” He pulled her against him and kissed her neck.

  “I thought you said we were running late.” She turned in his arms and stroked her hands up into his hair again. She seemed to like his hair for some reason, and he took advantage of her distraction by shifting her back against the tile wall and kissing her neck some more.

  “That’s if we stop for breakfast,” he said, and skimmed a hand over her stomach to rest at the top of her thigh, just to taunt her. “I’m happy to skip the diner, spend some time here.”

  She let him slide his hands over her hot, slick skin, and after a few minutes, he wasn’t the only one willing to sacrifice food and caffeine. She closed her eyes and made one of those little noises that drove him crazy.

  “Come on,” he whispered in her ear, and she clutched her arms around him. He kissed her mouth, her throat.

  She jerked back suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

  “No.” He kissed her again, but she pulled away.

  “Stop, I’m serious. I heard a voice.”

  A voice.

  Nathan reached over and twisted off the water. He strained to listen, but didn’t hear anything.

  Still, his gut was filling with dread. “Where’d you park?” he asked her.

  She blinked up at him. “Down the street. Why?”

  Shit.

  He swept the curtain aside and jerked a towel off the rack.

  “What?” she asked. “Your neighbor was having a party, so—”

  “Stay here,” he said, and shoved a towel into her hands.

  Her brow furrowed, and he realized he’d scared her.

  “It’s probably nothing,” he said. “Just wait in the bedroom, okay?”

  Nathan grabbed a towel for himself and slung it around his neck before snatching his jeans up off the floor beside the bed. He jerked the bedroom door shut behind him, just as heels clicked across the marble foyer.

  He rounded the corner and nearly bumped into Nicole.

  “Morning.” She rose up on tiptoes to kiss him, then backed up to look at his wet chest. “You’re running late today.”

  “You should have called.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Stop bitching. I brought you breakfast.”

  He took her elbow and steered her back toward the kitchen. “You should have called, Nikki.”

  He got her all the way to the kitchen before she shook his arm off and gaped up at him. “Oh my God. Are you with someone?”

  “Yes.”

  He saw her jaw tighten. Her gaze darted to the living room behind him, and he hoped like hell Alex wasn’t standing there in the hallway watching this conversation. He walked into the laundry room and tossed his towel on the washer, then grabbed a dirty T-shirt from the basket on the floor and yanked it over his head.

  “I apologize,” Nicole said when he turned around. Her voice was cool, but her eyes were fiery. “You’re right, I should have called.”

  She wore a tailored black suit and heels, which meant she probably planned to be in court later. He noticed the cardboard coffee cups on the table, and felt a pang of guilt. Goddamn it, he never should have kissed her good night at the hotel. This was his fault for putting his tongue in her mouth and thinking she wouldn’t take it as some big signal that their on-again, off-again sexual relationship was back on.

  “Nicole—”

  “Forget it.” She picked up her stylish black handbag and strode out the back door, yanking it shut behind her.

  Nathan turned around to see Alex walking into the living room. She wore jeans, sneakers, and the T-shirt she’d shown up in yesterday. Damp curls fell around her shoulders.

  She didn’t look at him as she pulled a key from her back pocket and they pretended not to hear Nicole’s BMW backing out of the driveway.

  “Want to take your car?” he asked.

  She gave him a blank look, and he knew breakfast was off.

  “That was my ex-wife. Nicole.”

  She held up a hand. “Not my business. I’ve got to get going, so—”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Act like you don’t care.”

  She crossed her arms. “Why should I care? Your ex-wife stopped by your house. So what?”

  “Okay.” He searched her face for some kind of emotional reaction. He didn’t find one. Maybe she really didn’t care. Maybe she was the first woman he’d ever known who didn’t have a jealous bone in her body.

  But then her gaze settled on the coffee cups, and her eyes sparked.

  “I’ve got to go.” She turned and headed for the front door, and he followed her.

  “I’ll call you later.”

  “I’ve got a busy day,” she said over her shoulder.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, then.”

  She flipped the bolt and walked out. “Tomorrow’s busy, too.”

  “Tomorrow’s Saturday.” He followed her down the sidewalk. Where the hell had she parked? The street must have been packed last night.

  But she was done making excuses. She walked right up to the Monte Carlo red Ford Sunliner parked across the street. It was long and shiny and, with its distinctive body style, a hundred times cooler than his Mustang. She shoved a key into the door.

  “Where’s your Saturn?” he asked, stunned.

  “In the shop.” She jerked open the door with a squeak and slid behind the wheel. Original upholstery, too.

  “Isn’t this your landlady’s?”

  “It’s mine.”

  In the back of his brain, he heard the faint crack of a whip. He could fall hard for this girl.

  If she ever spoke to him again.

  He leaned an arm on the window while she shot him an annoyed look.

  “Look, I’m sorry, all right? She doesn’t usually drop by like that.”

  “Not my business.”

  “Yeah, it kind of is your business. We were in the middle of making love.”

  She glared up at him, and he could tell she didn’t like his terminology. Jesus. She was determined to belittle it as much as possible.

  “I will call you,” he said, getting pissed now.

  “Fine.” She pulled at the door, but he braced his hand against it.

  “This is the last time I’m going to say i
t, Alex. I apologize.”

  “Drop it,” she said. “Now do you mind? I need to get to work.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Alex was late, and she was counting on a trayful of grande lattes to smooth things over. She could have been here sooner, but she’d needed some time to collect herself before she could walk into her office and pull off some semblance of normal.

  But nothing was normal. Even a change of clothes and a second shower with her own, non-Nathan-scented shampoo had done nothing to ease the knot in her stomach.

  Alex took a deep breath and shook it off. It didn’t matter. She hated relationships. And if she made room for one in her life right now, she’d have to deal with the void when it went away.

  Alex strode up to the door of her business and tapped her knuckles on the glass. Sophie emerged from behind Alex’s closed office door, and her face brightened when she spotted the cardboard tray.

  “Oh my God, you read my mind.”

  Alex stepped into the office and handed Sophie a cup. From behind the closed door, she heard the murmur of female voices.

  “Courtney’s here already?”

  “She’s been here almost an hour,” Sophie said. “And she’s incredible. I’m going to have to hire her before my next round of head shots.”

  Alex crossed the reception room. “Draw those mini-blinds, would you?” she asked over her shoulder. You never know who might come knocking.

  She should have been prepared for the scene inside her office, but she wasn’t. And Sophie was right. Courtney was incredible.

  “Wow,” Alex said. Behind her desk, in the big leather swivel chair, was a completely transformed Melanie Bess.

  Courtney shot Alex a look. “You’re late.”

  “I stopped by Starbucks.” She set the tray of drinks on the desk.

  “You’re forgiven.”

  Which wasn’t exactly surprising. Besides being a personal friend, the tall, auburn-haired stylist was one of Alex’s former clients. She belonged to a subset Nathan had labeled “basket-case women,” although she no longer fit that description, thanks in part to Alex. Courtney had turned her life around and recently managed to land a job at Austin’s hippest salon.