Man with the Muscle

by Julie Miller

  “Should I be worried?”

  “I’m not sure. Yeah, this is Alex Taylor.” He spoke into the phone, gave his ID number and reported the suspicious car. The car disappeared two corners down and Alex quickly got out and circled around to open the door for Audrey. He locked the door and tucked her under his arm, keeping his body between her and the street as he walked her through the door and up the stairs to his grandparents’ apartment. “Thanks. Keep me posted.” He clipped the phone back onto his belt.

  “They’ll see if they can get a black-and-white to track it down. See if it’s stolen. You didn’t recognize it, did you?”

  “To be honest, I wasn’t looking. Do you think it’s the Broadway Bad Boys?”

  He wasn’t convinced. The car might be stolen, which was definitely a trademark of the gang, but it was too nice a vehicle not to be stripped for parts yet, and it hadn’t been souped up enough to meet the gang’s need for speed and power. That left…? Hell, what did that leave—something to do with Audrey’s suspicion about a link to the Rich Girl murders? Like that was a better option for being followed than a bunch of gangbangers who wanted to frighten her into losing the trial?

  “Let’s just get inside.” He knocked on the apartment door.

  A moment later it opened to a robust, gray-haired man who still sported a military cut and posture despite the arthritic bend to his knees. “Come in, come in.”

  “Grandpa.” He pulled Audrey inside and closed the door before trading a hug that included a couple slaps on the back.

  “Alex.” Their host extended one of his gnarled hands to Audrey. “I’m Sid Taylor, Alex’s grandpa. Welcome to our home.”

  “I’m Audrey. Thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Martha Taylor came hurrying from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron before opening her arms wide. “And who is this handsome young man in uniform?” Alex traded kisses and a tight hug before she pulled away and beamed a beautiful smile at him. “Whenever I see you dressed in your work clothes, it makes me think of the first time I met your grandfather. He was in uniform, too. Such a handsome man.” She cupped Alex’s cheek before turning to Audrey. “Introduce me to your beautiful new friend.”

  Audrey extended her hand, her cheeks turning rosy with a blush. “Audrey Kline. Nice to meet you.”

  Martha clapped her hands together. “The famous lawyer from the newspapers. Well, this is an honor. Sid, you should have warned me. If I’d known we had a celebrity coming, I’d have fixed something besides leftover meat loaf.” She arched one silvery-blond brow in apology. “But I do have a pie.”

  “What kind?” Audrey asked.

  “Apple.”

  “Do you have a slice of cheddar cheese to go with it?”

  “I think so.”

  “Oh, I am so going off my diet tonight. Hot tea and apple pie with cheese sounds like heaven to me.”

  Martha linked arms with Audrey and invited her into the kitchen. “It’s a recipe I got from my mother. I get carried away with baking this time of year…”

  Sid nodded his approval to Alex as they followed them in to dinner. “A woman with real class has class in any situation, even when she’s served leftovers.”

  “I love Gran’s meat loaf.” Alex followed Martha’s standing orders and stopped at the credenza outside the kitchen, removing his service weapon and setting it safely out of the way before sitting down at the table.

  “So do I. That one’s a real lady, son. Just like your grandma.”

  “You think I’ve got enough class to match up with that? For the long haul?”

  His grandparents’ home was more than a haven where Alex could relax for a couple hours. Sid understood that he’d come for a little friendly advice, too. He clasped his hand over Alex’s shoulder. “The real question is, do you have enough love?”

  “I’ve only known her for a few days. It’s crazy how fast I thought I knew, but…I don’t know.”

  “Could you stand to lose her?”

  That took him aback. Alex looked up into Sid’s eyes, eyes that were dark enough to make them look like blood relations. Maybe he should trust his instincts with Audrey. But could he convince her to trust hers? It was an all too important debate that he’d file away for later.

  “I’m hungry, Grandpa. Let’s eat.”

  AUDREY WAS EMBARRASSINGLY full, totally exhausted yet curiously content after spending the evening with Alex and his grandparents. It made the trip home to an empty house seem a little less daunting, her father staying the night with his new lady friend a little less worrisome, and her feelings for Alex Taylor a little less frightening to admit.

  To herself.

  Alex had backpedaled a long way from his We fit and I don’t question it lecture. Last night, although his actions had been tender, he’d been curiously quiet—and she’d been too exhausted to restart the debate. Maybe he’d begun to rethink his belief that some people could know each other, love each other—if they were the right two people—after a short period of time, just as she was beginning to consider it a real possibility.

  He seemed to have a very special bond with his adoptive grandparents—and they clearly adored him—and seemed to have enjoyed their evening together. Martha Taylor had shared a lovely romantic story about meeting Sid for the first time, and how quickly she’d discovered that he was the man for her—for almost fifty years now.

  But Alex had continued to be unusually quiet on the ride home. Not that he’d been rude—he’d answered every question she’d asked, and had cut short the phone call that told him KCPD had had no luck finding the car he suspected had been following them. Audrey stole a glance out the side-view mirror to see if she could spot any mysterious black car trailing after them as Alex swiped the key card and opened the front gates. He waited until the gates had locked securely behind them before turning his lights on high beam and following the long drive to the house.

  When they cleared the trees and began to curve around the circle, Audrey was reminded of growing up here. “When I was little and we’d drive to the house at night—when the windows were dark like they are now—I always thought this big, stern facade looked like a multi-eyed monster’s head.” She pointed to the corner tower where her rooms were located. “I imagined the house was a creature with one horn, frozen in stone by some powerful wizard.”

  “That’s a little fanciful for you, isn’t it?” He said just enough to keep the conversation going. “It’d make a great Halloween house, though.”

  “Not that we ever had any trick-or-treaters.” But despite the isolation, Audrey had plenty of good memories here. “I used to have parties here when I was a kid. We’d play hide-and-seek for hours. Charlotte had the best imagination—we’d find her up trees or in the root cellar or hiding between floors on the dumbwaiter. Harper—”

  “—probably was more interested in winning than anything else.”

  “You do get to know people quickly, don’t you? His favorite game was tag—mostly because he could outrun the rest of us. I wish…” She paused with a heavy sigh that sounded like pure sorrow. “I wish I’d seen that coming today. Somehow his feelings for Gretchen must have gotten all twisted up with what he used to feel for me—back in high school. I haven’t felt anything romantic toward him since then. It’s not his place to be so possessive or to assume any kind of relationship. I made that clear, didn’t I?”

  “If you didn’t, I will.”

  She was smiling again as he pulled the truck to the bottom of the porch steps. “You can park in the garage out back if you want.”

  He shook his head as he killed the engine. “Too far away from the main house, and I know the entrances and exits on this side of the house better, in case we need to get out quickly.”

  Her amusement at his own possessive impulse quickly vanished. “Are you expecting trouble?”

  “I want to be prepared so that nothing catches me by surprise.” His smile tried to reassure her. “It’s just a precaution. W
ith Holden and Trip babysitting Tyrell tonight, I don’t have the same backup I did last night. Captain Cutler ordered some extra patrols to swing by the house. He said to call if I needed anything else. In the meantime, all you’ve got is me.”

  She reached across the seat to take his hand. “Then I’ll be just fine.”

  Audrey reset the alarm system as soon as Alex bolted the front door behind them. She dropped off her attaché bag in her father’s office, gave herself a moment to absorb his lingering presence, and really feel that he was going to be all right and back home in the morning. Then she peeled off her coat, kicked off her shoes and headed upstairs while Alex made a sweep of the house.

  She was curled up in her peach silk pajamas, sitting on top of the flowered comforter in her bedroom, when she heard Alex enter the sitting room on the other side of the door. “The house is secure, Red,” he called out. “Pleasant dreams.”

  But she couldn’t get an answering “good-night” past her lips. As weary as she’d been after leaving the police station and Clarice’s, their visit with his grandparents had revitalized her. Her brain was running ninety miles a minute, going over everything she was feeling, thinking of the words she should say. Why had Alex’s demeanor changed since that takedown of Steve Lassen at the courthouse? Had her admission about wanting to clobber the guy herself shocked him? Changed his opinion of her? Had Sid or Martha said something that put him in this distant state? Or was he simply concerned about her security—so focused on that that he had no room for anything else in his head right now?

  In the end, she took a page from Alex’s own book. Quit overanalyzing everything. Don’t muddy up her wants and needs with too many words. If she had a feeling about something—or someone—she should trust her gut and do something about it.

  Audrey inhaled a steadying breath and slipped out of bed. Time to do.

  She soundlessly opened the connecting door and found him hanging his Kevlar vest over his black uniform shirt on the back of a chair. He peeled off his black turtleneck with the white SWAT letters embroidered at the neck, and tossed it onto a stack of pillows at the end of the couch.

  “Did you need something?”

  His back was to her and she’d barely breathed, yet he knew she was there behind him. She took another step into the room. “Are you psychic?”

  He glanced over his bare shoulder and grinned. “I smelled you. Jasmine or lilacs—some delicate perfume that clings to your hair.”

  The compliment danced along her skin and fluttered inside her. “Sounds like my shampoo.”

  The man was a poet in the most basic of ways. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the scar on the back of his shoulder. Whatever hard edges and insights into people he’d learned on the streets growing up, the Taylors had fine-tuned into something beautiful. Alex was the best of both worlds—smart and observant, tough, funny, caring and kind. And freaking hot when he moved around without a shirt like that.

  Audrey cleared her throat, feeling the heat creeping up her neck as she tried not to notice every flex of muscle along his arms and back as he sat to untie his boots. “I think your grandmother may be a little psychic. Apple pie is my favorite dessert. Mom and I used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen—she went to culinary school and loved to cook. I’ve tried several times since she’s been gone to make her pie, but I can’t get the crust quite right. Martha said she’d share her recipe.”

  Alex dropped the second boot and pulled off his socks. “That’s like opening up the vault at Fort Knox. She must like you.”

  “I know. I’m practically a stranger. That’s so generous of her. I think maybe she sensed that I was missing my mother—”

  “You know, you’re talking a whole hell of a lot for a woman I thought was coming in to say good-night.” Alex stood and crossed the room to stand right in front of her.

  She closed her eyes and trembled, savoring his gentle touch as he traced the pattern of heat coloring her neck and jaw.

  “So what’s this blush really saying?”

  Audrey blinked her eyes open to the whisper of Alex’s warm breath caressing her sensitive skin. His eyes were so close, so deep, so beautiful—his jaw needed a shave—and his lips…she couldn’t seem to look away from his strong, supple mouth.

  “Talk to me, Red.”

  She followed the movement of his lips and felt something warm and wicked clench and release deep inside her.

  “I wanted to say…” Don’t overthink this, Audrey. Do it. She touched her fingertips to his stubbled jaw and lifted her gaze to his. “Are you sleeping in here tonight?” She walked her fingers to the nape of his neck and slid them up against the silky midnight of his hair.

  “I don’t want you to.”

  His hands settled at the nip of her waist, branding her through the thin layers of silk. His nostrils flared as he inhaled a deep breath. “I may not be the gentleman you think I am, Red.”

  Just the words she needed to hear. Whatever was troubling Alex, it wasn’t that he regretted admitting he had feelings for her.

  She wound her free arm up behind his neck and retreated a step, pulling him with her through her bedroom door. “Maybe I don’t want you to come in here and be a gentleman.” His eyes never left hers as he dutifully followed. “Maybe I want you to tell me some more of those wonderful stories about your family.” She ran her palms along the column of his neck and out across his shoulders, then down the hard cords of his arms, setting her hands on fire with the friction created by every hill and hollow of warm, male skin she explored. She caught her breath on a stutter and reversed the path, pulling herself closer, breathing harder, wanting more, until she had her fingers lost in the silky curls on top of his head. “We could make some stories…of our own.” She angled his face down toward hers, caught her breath as the pebbled tips of her breasts brushed across his chest. “Last night, together, and the night before…that was really spec—”

  “Shut up, Red.” Alex planted his mouth over hers, sliding his arms behind her waist and pulling her onto her toes, crushing her breasts against the wall of his chest as he plundered her mouth.

  Audrey fisted her fingers in his hair and held on as her toes left the floor entirely and he walked her backward until her thighs hit the edge of the bed. His hands roamed at will over her back and buttocks, the silk offering little barrier to every calloused caress. Audrey was no longer aware of breathing as he buried his fingers in her hair to guide her mouth this way, and then another—plunging in, supping, seducing with each kiss. He groaned deep in his chest as Audrey mimicked his demands, pulling him impossibly closer and thrusting her tongue between his lips to taste the moist fiery heat that threatened to consume her. She grazed her lips along his jaw, delighting in the sandpapery abrasion against her feverish bruised mouth.

  Alex opened his hot, wet mouth over the throbbing pulse at the base of her neck and she gasped. The graphic heat she knew colored her skin responded to his every touch, sending matching ribbons of heat deep beneath the surface, making her small breasts feel molten and heavy, and intensifying the aching weight building between her legs.

  Audrey gasped against his skin when he flicked his thumb over the painful nub of one breast. “I don’t really want to tell stories.”

  “I get the picture,” he rasped against her ear. “You’re sure about this?”

  In answer, Audrey leaned back against the cradle of his arms. Her fingers were shaky, she couldn’t quite catch her breath, but she knew her own mind.

  She unhooked the first button of her pajama top, and then the second, and then Alex grabbed it by the hem and pulled it off over her head.

  Audrey reclaimed his mouth and held on as he laid her on the bed and followed her down. His sure hands that handled guns and grandmothers and bad guys with equal ease made quick work of their remaining clothes. She bucked beneath him as he closed his mouth over an aching breast and suckled her into a mindless puddle of want and need.

  “Oh, baby, it goes all the way down. You�
��re so beautiful.” Her telegraphic skin betrayed every bit of emotion and desire—he was tracing a line from her neck. “So beautiful.” Over one breast. “So, so beautiful.” Down her stomach to—

  “Al…ex—I…I…” She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t find the words. She clawed at his shoulders, snatched at his hair, tugged his face back to hers and silently pleaded.

  He looked down into her eyes and grinned. “It’s okay, Red. You don’t have to talk.”

  He entered her on one long stroke and Audrey flew apart in his arms. She buried her face against his shoulder and cried out in pleasure against his skin. Then she simply held on as he moved inside her, lifting her to another crest before they both tumbled over the precipice together.

  Afterward, Alex pulled back the covers and wrapped his arms and body around her, sealing her in warmth and contentment, sheltering her with whispered praises and quiet strength.

  Audrey drifted off to sleep in his arms. He was right. She didn’t need words for this. She didn’t need more time to know.

  She loved Alex Taylor.

  Chapter Ten

  There was something about waking with a woman’s warm, beautiful breast pillowed against his side that made Alex reluctant to tune in to what his other senses were trying to tell him.

  It was especially hard when that woman was Audrey Kline, the icy, overanalytical, career-focused heiress who turned out to be a passionate, uninhibited, uniquely adorable lover who’d charmed his grandparents, welcomed him into her bed and opened up her mind to the possibility that the two of them could work. A gangbanger from the streets romancing Rupert Kline’s only daughter wasn’t a match that would make the society page of the Journal, but it was a match that he hoped Audrey would still want to pursue once the Smith trial was over.

  She didn’t make him feel as if he was just a bodyguard or a boy toy as that crass Harper Pierce had suggested. When she cuddled up in a ball beside him and snored softly against his chest, Alex felt as if she was his woman, as if they were equals. When she cried her eyes out or admitted she had a temper or rolled over in the middle of the night with a drowsy Can we do that again?, he felt as if they could truly communicate on a level that most couples—no matter what class they came from—rarely achieved.