by Julie Miller
Oh, no. No, no, no. Audrey hurried to catch up.
Dwight extended his hand. “Officer…?”
“Taylor. Alex Taylor.” The two men shook hands.
“You’re the man who saved my A.D.A.’s life today?”
“I guess.”
“Why are you still here?” Audrey quickly pressed her fingers to her mouth, embarrassed to hear her reactive thoughts spoken out loud.
His coffee-colored gaze flicked over her face, but he grinned at the unintended slight. “Good to see you again, too.”
“I’m sorry. I just… You aren’t supposed to be…” Damn. She dropped her hand into a fist at her side. She hated when her words got tangled up in her head like that. Taking a breath to buy herself a moment to articulate her thoughts, she tried again. “I thought you went back to the courthouse to get your truck.”
“Already did. I’m parked out front.”
Her boss, however, seemed to have no problem with this man making himself at home in her space. “You know Detective Josh Taylor? He’s a good friend of mine.”
“That’d be Uncle Josh.”
“Chief Taylor over in the Fourth Precinct?”
“Mitch is another uncle. I’m Gideon’s son.”
“Chief investigator at KCFD.” Dwight nodded, recognizing the name. “He broke that serial arsonist case a few years back.”
Alex’s pride was evident in his grin. “Ten years ago. That was the year I met him and Mom. They adopted me.”
“If you’re a Taylor, then you’re the kind of man I’m looking for. You on the clock?”
“Not tonight, sir.”
Dwight glanced down at her before making a proposition to Alex. “Feel like volunteering for protection duty with the D.A.’s office?”
“Dwight—” Audrey protested, but these two were already bonding and planning the next few hours of her life for her.
“You want me to drive Audrey home?”
“And stay with her until I can get some kind of official protection detail arranged with the department.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you do with KCPD, Taylor?”
“I’m SWAT, sir.”
Dwight touched Audrey’s elbow and pulled her forward, as though one man was handing her off to the other. “Then you’re in good hands. You focus on the case, and Taylor here will focus on keeping you safe. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a holiday program with my son and a bunch of first graders to get to.” Audrey turned in the doorway, determined to make her own opinion heard. But Dwight’s gray-green eyes seemed almost pained as he pointed to her cheek. “Be sure to have that looked at.” Then he peered beyond her shoulder to Alex. “I’m counting on you.”
“My pleasure, sir.” Alex’s hand settled at the small of her back and she bristled. The handoff was complete.
“I won’t let you down.”
As soon as they were alone, Audrey shimmied away from the warmth of his hand and stormed around her desk. “‘My pleasure,’” she scoffed.
Wasn’t the whole point of breaking away from her father’s influence so that she’d have the ability to make her own decisions? So that she could have his respect as well as his love? So that he’d see her as a grown-up instead of forever his little missy?
And now, without so much as a consultation regarding her wishes, she had an armed escort driving her home. Either her father would think she couldn’t handle herself on her own out in the big bad world and would jump in to make things right, or he’d be so worried that his health would start to decline the way it had when her mother had been ill.
Audrey opened her attaché and pulled out the folders which had gotten knocked around during the explosion and Alex’s saving tackle, straightened the papers inside each one, and neatly tucked them back into her bag again. Pull. Straighten. Close. Insert. Maybe she couldn’t do this. Maybe Dwight and her father were right to worry that she was in over her head. Straighten. Close. Insert.
“Try not to look so disappointed, counselor. It’s hard on a man’s ego.”
Alex’s teasing voice skittered across her eardrums, his tone a calm, patient contrast to her furious sorting and packing. She shot him an irritated look as he sauntered around the desk toward her. “Your ego isn’t my concern.”
“The D.A.’s right. After everything I’ve seen today, you need someone watching your back.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she informed him. “Having you or anyone else dogging my every move makes it look like I can’t do my job. I studied Demetrius Smith inside and out. I know he has a history of using intimidation tactics to get what he wants. I’m prepared for that. I won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s gotten to me.” She pointed a file out to the empty offices beyond her door. “Yet after just one day of this trial, my own boss thinks I can’t take care of myself. I can’t accept that.”
Alex caught her hand and pulled the file from her fingers, interrupting her desperate need to maintain control of some aspect of her life.
“How about you accept a recon expert who can make sure all the people around you stay safe?”
“What?” The warmth of his touch was as unsettling as it was unexpected. But her gaze landed on the shredded hem of his sleeve and she couldn’t seem to make her fingers pull away from his.
“Maybe you are invincible. But the people around you tend to get hurt.”
“That’s not funny.” A quick glance up to his rugged face, which needed a shave and a few hours of sleep, told her the teasing had stopped. Had something else happened during her meeting with Dwight? “I thought your friend said no one in the park got hurt this afternoon—that it was mostly property damage.”
“He said no one got seriously hurt.”
A fist of guilt squeezed her gut as she took in the bruised and raw knuckles of the hand holding hers. She followed the snagged forearm of his sleeve up to the rip at his elbow. Her gaze moved higher and her pulse quickened. The black knit shirt hugged his biceps and shoulders, stirring some purposely guarded hormones. But her gaze came back to the drops of blood staining his sleeve and his scraped-up knuckles, waking something much deeper. She touched her fingertips to the frayed cotton.
He’d ruined his sweater saving her life. He’d gotten hurt protecting her. This wasn’t how today was supposed to happen. She curled her fingers into her palm and raised her gaze to his, discovering just how deep and dark those brown eyes were. She was scared to think he could see that deeply into hers. “Are you all right?”
Alex leaned his hip against the corner of her desk and sat, tugging her half a step closer. Her thigh brushed against his, the soft wool of her skirt catching against his denim jeans and the hard muscle underneath. The shock of heat radiating from the frictive caress surprised her. One little brush and her emotions began to cloud her thinking. “I’m okay,” he assured her. “I’m just as tough as I look.” He reached up with one finger to brush her hair away from her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
Audrey jerked up her chin, fighting the instinct to turn her face into the gentle caress of his hand. “So I ruined a pair of panty hose and suffered a few bumps and bruises. I’ve had worse.”
Alex pressed his lips into a tight line. “It could have been a lot worse. The D.A.’s right about a protection detail. Today was just about sending you a message.”
The note she’d gotten during the party last night blipped into her mind, along with the creepy attention she’d gotten from Bud Preston. She had the feeling he’d been up to something far more sinister than parking cars. The message that someone meant to terrorize her was perfectly clear. But Alex’s argument wasn’t any comfort.
“A friend of yours was murdered a month ago. And now a bomb goes off when you’ve got the press and public hounding your every move. If you won’t think about yourself, think about the rest of us. Trip said there were no serious injuries at the park this afternoon, but that might not be the case next time s
omeone comes after you.”
“Do you think this is about the Rich Girl murders? Not the Smith trial?”
“I don’t know what to think. Yet.” He adjusted his grip, sliding his fingers beneath the sleeve of her jacket.
“But how many people have to get hurt before we do figure it out?”
“I didn’t think about that. About them. What if he goes after my father? Or hurts a guard or sets off a bigger bomb or…” Frustration, confusion, guilt and fear all fought to find words inside her. But the calloused pad of his thumb, tracing slow circles at the pulse point of her wrist, seemed to short-circuit her usual eloquence.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. But I won’t quit this case, Alex. I can’t.”
“I don’t want you to.” Tiny bubbles of heat pooled in her blood where he touched her. “Smith doesn’t get to win. I won’t let him. I don’t want you to let him, either.”
Strange, how his words of support fueled the warmth seeping through her body. She hadn’t realized how badly she needed to hear them. She never expected to feel this urge to turn her cheek against one of those shoulders and have Alex’s strong arms and body wrap around hers. He could keep her safe. He could make her feel.
It wasn’t until she saw her own hand, splayed at the middle of his chest, and felt herself leaning in, her legs butting for a more intimate position against his thigh, that she realized where her emotions were leading her. Clearing her throat, Audrey pulled away, breaking all contact with Alex’s body. She picked up the file folder with both hands, keeping her fingers occupied and her desires on hold until she could get her thoughts back in order.
“Since I have an early morning in court, we should be going.” She stuffed the folder into her attaché, saw there was nothing left to fiddle with on her desk and needlessly reached into the bag to check her phone and wallet and keys. Alex sat there, watching, his dark eyes barely blinking as she angled her chin and laid out her own expectations. “You can walk me to my car in the parking garage and follow me home.”
“You’re riding with me.”
“I’ll show you how the security system at home works, and you’ll see how safe we are. I’d like to introduce you to my father before you leave, and tell him why you’re there.”
“I’m staying the night.”
“He’s probably already seen or heard something about this afternoon on the news.”
“Audrey.”
“I can call for a driver in the morning—or have a black-and-white follow me into the city.”
“You forgot this.” Alex slowly straightened beside her, holding up the blood-stained, wrinkled, faded blue bandanna he’d been sitting on.
Heat rushed into Audrey’s cheeks and she plucked it from his fingers. It was so soft, still warm from the press of his body. “I didn’t mean to keep it so long. I’ll get this washed and ironed and returned to you. It was clean this afternoon before…” Right. It was blood-stained. She stuffed it inside her bag. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Stubborn, I understand. It matches the hair.” She turned to get her coat from the stand beside the door, but Alex was there, blocking her path. Grinning. “But I never pictured you as the sentimental type.”
When it became clear he wasn’t going to move, Audrey tipped her chin to look him in the eye. “I am not sentimental. Don’t read anything more into keeping your gift—your old bandanna—than the fact that I just got busy and forgot I had it. I’ll replace it. Your sweater, too. And pay for any medical expenses. I suppose I’ll have to pay the city to replace that trash can, also.”
“Shh.” He reached up and traced his fingertips along the line of her jaw.
Audrey shivered and pulled up. “I insist. You probably saved my life. The least I can do is buy you a—”
“I’m not interested in your money,” he whispered, capturing the point of her chin between his thumb and fingers. He gave her chin the gentlest of tugs down. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again. Not by violence or pressure or loss.”
“Stop that.” Was that husky gasp her own voice? And what was so damned mesmerizing about the supple articulation of Alex Taylor’s lips?
“Stop what?”
Audrey opened her mouth, drew in a breath to speak. The scent of his skin filled her nose, distracting her from her argument. His dark eyes hooded and she watched in perplexed fascination as the distance between them vanished and he closed his mouth over hers.
It was a gentle kiss. An unexpected kiss. A very leisurely, thorough, thought-stopping kiss.
Alex pressed his lips to hers, warming her mouth. He touched his tongue to the bow of her mouth, tasted one corner, then the other. The lightest of stubble rubbed against the swell of her bottom lip, leaving it tender and achy and reaching out to hold on to his when he would have pulled away. His tongue stroked the seam of her lips and they parted to feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. She tasted the salt on his skin, the coffee he’d been drinking on his tongue. With a helpless moan, she opened more fully, seeking more, welcoming him.
He slid his fingers along her jawline and tunneled them beneath the hair at her nape. There was nothing connecting them beyond his fingers in her hair and his mouth moving over hers. And heat. Languid, silky, slow-moving heat that flowed from his touch into her skin, seeping through her blood, finding and filling a neglected well of doubt and need and want deep inside her.
Audrey’s thoughts were cloudy, her skin feverish with a blush of desire when Alex finally pulled away. She felt his chest rise and fall beneath the clutch of her fingers balled in the front of his sweater. His breath washed over her cheek in a rhythm as deep and unsteady as her own. She saw the lines crinkling beside his beautiful eyes and knew he was smiling.
“Why did…? I can’t…” she stuttered.
He brushed his thumb across her lips, sparking and soothing each nerve ending in its wake. “It’s okay, Red. I feel this thing between us, too.”
Audrey plucked her hand away and curled it against her stomach, but she couldn’t come up with a single word to agree with or deny his hushed revelation.
“Nice.” He stamped her with a quick peck on the lips, looped her bag over her shoulder and retrieved their coats from the hook beside the door. “I’ll have to remember that trick next time I want to get a word in edgewise.”
“Trick?” A knee-jerk instinct left Audrey fuming at the amusement at her expense. Whatever heat had dissipated flooded back into her cheeks. Kissing her into silence? Like she could fall prey to some Neanderthal tactic that short-circuited her poise, rerouted her goals and left her thinking only about him, about them, about the next time he might kiss her.
But she wisely turned her back and let him help her into her coat, keeping her sensitized lips pressed tightly together. She had no position to argue from when the man was only telling the truth.
HE SCRUBBED THE BABY WIPE over his face, cleaning off the last of the black makeup he’d worn with his costume. A satisfied smile looked back from his reflection in the mirror.
Audrey Kline had been scared—he’d read it in the shock that had blanched her skin. She’d been hurt—nothing serious, but enough to know he meant business. She’d been confused by the attack—and maybe that was the most delightful result of all. Confusion and uncertainty had to be particularly frightening for a woman who was used to power and control and having the last word.
Now he was the one in control.
He’d seen the way she’d looked at him. He knew her inside and out—what she cared about, what she feared. She was afraid. She was fighting it. But he’d seen that fear. He’d smelled it on her.
She could throw her money and prestige around, and smile her pretty smile. Hell. Even he’d succumbed to it. But no more. She could steal the spotlight and have her pick of men and a career. But if she thought for one minute that she was better than him, that she could overlook him and not regret the slight, that she could keep him from achieving the success that was
rightfully his, then she was woefully mistaken.
Audrey Kline had no power over him. No power. Nada. None.
He tossed the soiled cloth into the trash and carefully nestled the rectangular wipe dispenser box against the sink splash. He had to give his toothbrush and razor a nudge so that they lined up parallel to the dispenser, but the calming release he expected didn’t come.
He pressed his fingertips to the knot of tension balling at his temple. Why did he always have to fix things? Why couldn’t his world fall into place by itself? Now he had to turn his cell phone ninety degrees on the countertop so that it matched the pattern around the sink. The time flashing on the screen annoyed him further. Today had been a complete success, but the momentary balance in his world was already beginning to shift. He was running out of time to savor the memory of Audrey sprawled on the ground beside the sidewalk, bleeding and afraid—clinging to a stranger because she was too damn stubborn to let anyone besides her precious father into her life.
Hmm. That was a possibility. Rupert Kline was a harder target to reach, but he could certainly prove to be Audrey’s Achilles’ heel.
If he needed a Plan B.
He breathed in deeply, watching his nostrils flare in the mirror—seeing the intelligence and foresight that so many people missed reflected in his eyes. A slow smile crept across his mouth. He had yet to need a Plan B.
He released the breath he held and splashed some soap and water on his face. If he didn’t get his butt in gear, he’d be late and he’d miss the opportunity to see the aftereffects of the explosion and threats with his own eyes. And that was a payoff he didn’t want to miss.
Reaching for his clothes, he mentally fought to maintain the control that was slipping through his fingers. After dressing quickly, he went back to the mirror to pull on his jacket and smooth out the wrinkles in his lapels and collar. A tug here, a brush there—finally, he was satisfied that he looked the part expected of him. He’d see Audrey soon. Would she be distressed? Angry? Putting on a brave show for her father? It was too much to hope that she’d fall to pieces. Yet. But the opportunity to observe the results of his handiwork was a reward that hurried him out the door and into his vehicle.