by Karen Rock
Lips parting, she kissed him. The brush was slow and sensual and unyielding. From the way his breath sped up, she knew he needed her as much as she needed him. That heady knowledge gave her the confidence to caress his face. He groaned as soon as her fingers stroked his rough cheek. Sensation rippled through her chest, fluttering down to her belly and tingling onward.
The man tasted divine: toothpaste and Tic Tacs—minty warm. The scents mixed with the vanilla lip gloss she’d put on at some point earlier today. Courage grew along with the liquid warmth drugging her senses and turning her soft and boneless.
Reese couldn’t wait any longer to test the texture of the rest of his mouth. Her tongue came into brief, hot contact with his lips, darting along the fullness of the middle before she wriggled free of her covers, wound her arms around his neck and fitted herself against him.
Her hands glided over his white T-shirt, appreciating the sculpted perfection of his body. She pressed her palm against his hard chest, and its firmness hinted at a barely restrained power ready to be unleashed. His heart hammered quickly beneath her hand, fascinating her. Flattering her even more.
Her fingers ran over his shorn hair, tripping along the back of his neck. Then she pressed herself to him, savoring every inch of his hard, masculine planes next to her soft curves. It would be a challenge to break away from the heat of his body and the seductive taste of a kiss she had been fantasizing about for days. But she had no choice.
She had to stop.
And then Blake took charge.
Absorbed in her own desires, she’d been oblivious to the fact that he’d passively let her take the lead.
Until right now.
With a guttural growl, he cupped her hips and brought her exactly where she needed to be between his legs. His mouth slanted over hers more insistently, demanding entrance. Reese yielded and let his tongue dip in and take her. Their quickening breaths rasped in her ear.
Blake’s hands continued holding her prisoner through the pleasure. He ran his palms up her shoulders and outlined her collarbone with his fingers. His hands hovered a scant inch above her chest. Her aching breasts peaked, her clamoring flesh tightening with greedy, insistent need.
But more intoxicating than anything else was the wet slide of his lips over hers. He didn’t so much kiss her as savor her. His tongue teased and tasted, making her melt in his arms, heart surging. A sensual tidal wave threatened to drag her under.
She couldn’t stop touching Blake if she tried. Her fingers moved with restless energy over every available inch of him, sliding beneath his shirt to catalogue the shape and feel of his ridged abs and chest as his fingers located her romper’s back zipper and began easing it down in a slow, sensual slide.
A cell phone blared into her consciousness, shattering the hottest kiss of her life.
Reese broke away, reeling, her body on fire for more.
“I’d better get that,” she whispered, trying to recall where she’d left her phone. She couldn’t seem to let go of Blake, though. Holding him tight, she took a couple of deep, shaky breaths, trying to regain her senses. She shouldn’t have started this.
“It’s mine,” he grumbled. The mattress lifted as he eased off the bed. Beyond her door, his deep, authoritative voice rose and fell. Had his precinct called with info on the Escalade’s owners? He’d called in the plate number as well as a BOLO on the vehicle during their drive to the hospital.
Curiosity seized her, but she forced herself to close her eyes and feign sleep when he slipped back in the room. If she let Blake too close, he might uncover more family secrets, and she’d allowed too much to slip already.
His race to prove himself threatened to destroy her longed-for reconciliation with her father. Besides, they were too different. He thought in absolutes, while she viewed life more realistically, in flexible terms. Not to mention his law-enforcement affiliation. She’d consorted with the enemy. One who’d rescued her… who vowed to protect her… but still… opposed as they were, Blake could never be a part of her life.
The mattress dipped when he perched beside her. A feather-light kiss brushed her cheek.
“’Night, Sleeping Beauty,” Blake whispered, then was gone, leaving her to dream, to want something completely and utterly wrong for her.
Reese’s thoughts slowed and her breathing evened as she began to drift.
So much for an innocent kiss. She’d opened Pandora’s box, unleashing explosive desires. And with Blake as her self-appointed bodyguard, they’d be spending more time together than ever.
Would she be able to resist him?
Suddenly she wasn’t so sure what threatened her well-being more, violent attackers or a man whose sensual onslaught reduced her to ashes with a single touch.
* * * *
Two days later, Blake drove through heavy midday Dallas traffic to the impound lot where the SUV had reportedly been towed last week. When he’d called in the full plate number after the attack, he’d gotten his first real lead in the case, the break he needed to determine the identity of Reese’s attacker. His thoughts circled back to Dallas Heat, where he’d installed Reese in her office and ordered her to lock the door. Would she listen? Either way, Nash declared himself her guard, swearing to keep an eye on her in case the thugs returned. Like the rest of the staff, he was incensed by the attack and rallied behind his boss. The employees vowed retribution if anyone so much as looked at Reese the wrong way.
No one would bother her again at Dallas Heat, they swore.
Unless it was an inside job…
Dixon drove a motorcycle that night, Blake recalled. Had he returned with a partner in the white Escalade? Blake wished he’d gotten a closer view of the ski mask–covered men.
At a GPS command, Blake flicked on his left-turn signal and stopped at a red light. Strong sunlight blared from a cloudless sky. He flipped down his visor, cranked open the back windows, then eyed the highlighted route.
Discovering Reese locked in a life-and-death battle had sent his protective instincts into overdrive and torched his self-control. It’d taken every ounce of training not to leap into the fray and pound the shit out of her attackers. Then she’d struck her hostage-taker in a move even a seasoned officer would envy and managed to memorize the Escalade’s plate number. With his focus on Reese, he would have completely missed it. Blake had nothing but mad respect for her.
And a shitload of other feelings. She was a stunningly beautiful woman; a sexual powder keg. After spending time with her, however, he’d come to realize her appearance didn’t define her. As if that weren’t bad enough, memories of her warm, passionate response plagued him.
After their mind-blowing kiss, need chewed his logical nature to bits. His jaw tightened along with every other movable part of him as he recalled her lush curves pressed against him, the sinful sensation imprinted on his body. What sort of freaking perversity made it impossible to not want a woman who was off-limits? Yet he could no more stop thinking about her than he could stop his next breath.
Reese’s take-no-shit attitude and sexy banter could bring a grown man to his knees.
And it was driving him insane.
He should berate himself for returning her passionate kiss while she was recovering from a concussion. Instead, an overwhelming desire to strip off her clothes and give them the intense release they desperately needed pounded inside him.
The light changed and he cranked the wheel, turning down a narrow lane. His unmarked police car bounced over a pothole and crushed abandoned beer cans littering the street.
He had to focus on this case. Getting too close to Reese threatened his chances of pulling off a textbook operation. Thankfully, she’d fallen asleep after the call that’d interrupted their kiss. When she’d woken, she’d kept her distance, as had he, only speaking when necessary.
Complicating matters more, the attack proved she had s
omething the steroids ring wanted. He needed to be vigilant, not distracted, and guard her with his life. Reese would not suffer her father’s fate.
A car zoomed up behind him and rode his bumper. He glanced in his rearview mirror, and his own troubled eyes stared back at him. When they’d talked about losing their parents, a bond formed between them, catching him off guard. Hearing about her complicated relationship with her dad sparked a sense of kinship. Her claims of her father’s innocence rang false, though, since she refused to hand over his computer or allow him to search Pete’s belongings.
Misplaced familial allegiance?
He’d encountered it too many times to count. It didn’t mean Reese was complicit, exactly, but she didn’t share his clear, black-and-white perspective. Troubling.
Still. He admired Reese’s guts, her loyalty to her father, her sense of humor and her grit. There was a lot to like about Reese.
Too much.
Until he caught the creep after Reese, he’d serve only as her protector. Developing any other kind of relationship with her pushed his personal and professional ethical boundaries. He couldn’t remain objective about the case if they got involved.
That had to be what was bugging him, he reasoned, as he lifted his coffee and tossed back a tongue-scalding gulp. She challenged his black-and-white view of the world, pushed him into a gray area he might gladly stay in if it meant Reese’s body pressed up against his.
“Arriving at destination,” chirped his peppy GPS.
He settled his drink back in its holder, turned the car into the impound lot, then halted at a small white booth.
A round-faced man with heavy jowls peered at him from beneath a TMU sports cap. “What can I do for ya?”
When Blake relayed the SUV’s information, the fellow nodded. “Yeah. Towed here last week. You here to pay up?”
Blake flashed his badge, hiding his surprise. The guy seemed sure it was still here. “I need to examine it for a case. Where’s it parked?”
“I’ll show you.” The lot owner hopped in Blake’s car, guided him to a far corner, then scanned the row of cars before pointing to an empty spot.
“I don’t get it. I parked it right here.” The man pulled off his cap and scratched at a bald spot.
After a couple of passes around the lot, Blake returned to the booth and ducked out of the car. “Who has access to the lot?”
“Just me—I’m the owner—and the DPD. But you know that.”
Blake twisted in a circle, stopped, then pointed at a CCTV camera mounted on a brick building adjacent to the lot. “That yours?”
The owner nodded. “Yeah. We had a robbery a couple years back. The police department installed it for extra security.”
“No break ins since?”
Beads of sweat appeared on the man’s flushed brow. “None.”
Blake leaned closer, pressuring. “How’d the car go missing, then?”
“Dunno.” The owner twisted fleshy hands, and his unblinking eyes fastened on Blake. “I’m the only one with the keys…and the local precinct. So far as I know, no one signed it out.”
Blake double checked the logbook to be sure, then ordered the man to pull the CCTV footage for the date of the attempted home invasion. He didn’t appear to be lying, but who else would have driven it away? Not a police officer… Not unless…
Blake shook the crazy thought away. His brothers in blue took down drug rings, not ran them. Cursing his luck when the corrupted files refused to play, he made a note to himself to call central for the backup files, tucked the man’s card into his pocket and headed back to the street. Time to visit the Escalade’s owner.
Twenty minutes later, he rapped on the door of a two-story condominium. He waited, then pounded again.
“Coming!” yelled a man from inside. He yanked open the door then backed up a step at Blake’s badge.
“Jerry Crowley?” A thin man wearing an oversized track suit with a long gold chain—mid-twenties, Blake judged, nodded. “I’m Officer Knight with the Dallas Police Department.”
“You don’t look like a cop.”
“May I come in?” Blake waited as the slight man wavered, then waved him through. Automatically, Blake tuned into his surroundings, assessing for potential threats or evidence. A TV game show rattled away from the living room. A microwave dinged from a galley kitchen. Smoke spiraled from a lit incense stick in an ashtray on the counter.
Blake sniffed. “How long you been selling weed?”
“Excuse me?” Jerry flailed stick-like arms.
A carton of miniature children’s cereal boxes lay open beside a loaf of white bread and a jar of Marshmallow Fluff. Not a power bar or protein shake in sight…
So, not a steroid user, Blake guessed. Still, he couldn’t rule Jerry out as a member of the drug ring, especially given his expensive ride. He might have rescued his Escalade with another set of keys after breaking into the lot—all in full view of the CCTV camera.
“Look. I’m not here to make some low-level pot bust.”
Jerry’s concave chest fell with the force of his exhale.
“Not unless you lie about what happened to your Escalade.”
“I don’t have it.” Jerry’s lower lip pushed out. “Got towed last week.”
Blake folded his arms across his chest. “Why?”
“Bad luck.” Jerry’s overgrown curls twitched around his narrow face. “I left it running in a No Parking zone for like a minute, tops, to grab some cigs. I was almost out of gas, so I was in a hurry. When I came outside, it was towed.”
“Why haven’t you picked it up?”
“Can’t afford to pay the ticket yet.” Blake followed Jerry’s eyes to a ceramic urn on a table beneath the front window.
His stash, Blake concluded. He planned on selling it to get his SUV back. So far, the story sounded legit. He’d rule the guy out completely once he viewed central command’s CCTV backup files.
“Don’t leave town,” Blake ordered on his way out the door.
“Can’t. Don’t have my car.”
Blake whirled around and pointed a finger. “No one likes a smart-ass. Least of all me. Got it?”
Jerry’s head bobbed like it was on strings and Blake stomped down the stairs to his vehicle, his lips curled up at the corners. He did like a smart-ass, actually, especially if that smart-ass was Reese.
A cruise around the condo’s parking lot came up empty.
Where was the SUV? And who had it?
He needed the CCTV backup footage, stat. It’d give him another lead and distract his traitorous libido. He couldn’t afford to foul up the case because of his dangerous attraction to Reese Landon. The other night had been a mistake. Based on the wide berth she’d given him lately, he supposed she agreed.
He refused to let it mean more to him.
Assuming, of course, it didn’t already.
Chapter Seven
“How long has your uncle owned the ranchette?”
At Blake’s question, shouted over the air whizzing through the open-topped Jeep, Reese shoved back her whipping hair and glanced his way. In a fitted blue polo shirt and cargo shorts that highlighted muscular thighs and calves, he looked crisp, masculine and mouthwateringly gorgeous. Staring at him directly was like peering at the sun, a dizzying, disorienting sensation. Not to mention the crazy tap dance her heart began the minute he’d insisted he accompany her on this overdue family visit.
Did he want to meet her uncle and ask him a few subtle questions about Reese’s father? Blake insisted on guarding her, but did he also suspect threats originated inside her family? And did his suspicion extend to her? She’d come to appreciate his protection; the mistrust…not so much. His opinion shouldn’t matter, but it did. More than she dared admit.
Was he obsessing over their kiss like she was?
Or at a
ll?
He’d acted cool and professional the past couple of days. Despite the uniforms posted outside, he’d slept in her living room, watching over her closely, all while keeping his emotional distance—which should make her happy.
Only it didn’t.
Miserable, contradictory sex-maniac (apparently) that she was… When he’d requested tending bar for a better vantage point to monitor her and the club, she’d agreed. His erotic stage gyrations, combined with their heart-stopping kiss, cost her too many restless nights lately.
And her early-morning dance routines had taken on a sensuous bent lately.
Their “innocent” lip-lock had backfired big time. She hungered for more. His unreadable expression gave no hint to his thoughts, yet she suspected he didn’t have the same crazy, heart-pounding reaction to her.
“Reese?” Blake prompted, pulling from her thoughts.
“It belongs to my Aunt Marisol; it’s been in her family for years,” she hollered back. Bright sunrays splashed down from a slightly cloudy sky. Texas longhorns in fenced-off pastures picked up their heads as they raced by. Sprays of colorful wildflowers lined the newly paved, two-lane road and perfumed the humid summer air. It was a postcard of a day, the kind she’d pictured while touring the world, no place as pretty as her own neck of the woods.
Blake tapped her knee, sending a shot of electricity up her leg. When she turned again, he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Aunt Marisol’s the tennis pro?”
She nodded and tore her gaze off his mouth. “They met when my uncle’s country club hired her as an instructor,” she yelled. “He’d been divorced for a couple of years.”
“Do they raise cattle?”
“Not really.” She raised her voice another notch. “They have a few longhorns and several horses. It’s mostly just a country retreat. My cousin Zoe, his daughter from his first marriage, had her graduation party there last year.”
She shoved on a pair of sunglasses, blocking out the intense light. Beneath her, the tires hummed on the smooth asphalt, and her speedometer needle hovered at seventy miles an hour.