by Joan Kilby
* * *
PAULA FELT RILEY’S HANDS close around her breasts and her eyes shut on a sigh that came right from her belly. Inappropriate or not, she didn’t care. His touch felt like heaven. His kisses were better than chocolate. She liked him, she liked what he was doing to her. And she wanted more.
She was tired of being cautious. Tired of examining every feeling and idea that came into her head to see if she should act or if she should clamp down on her desires. She was tired of keeping herself wrapped up tight as a drum in case she inadvertently let loose with “inappropriate” behavior. For seven years she’d kept her nose clean. For what? Last she looked, no one was handing out medals for being Miss Goody Two-shoes.
Riley was an honorable man. He liked her kid, and if that bulge in his jeans was anything to go by, he was hot for her. So what if they gave each other a bit of release this once? It didn’t mean they were in a relationship. She wasn’t ready for that. Neither was he. But if they were adult about this, they could have sex without it interfering with their work.
He was hot. Literally hot. His skin felt like it was burning up. All the time she’d been massaging him, feeling his corded muscles and broad shoulders, she’d imagined what it would be like to have her breasts pressed against his chest, skin to skin. Now she knew, and it was good. So very, very good.
Her hands were still slick from massage oil. She moved them across his pecs, tracing the outline of his flat nipples, threading her fingers through the dusting of dark hair that narrowed to a line down his belly. Then he claimed her mouth again and the jolt of heat turned her brain to mush.
He rose, pulling her up with him. Then he winced.
She eased away. “Is your back up to this?”
Riley twisted his torso experimentally. “My back does what I tell it to.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right. You’re such a hard ass.”
“Okay, credit where it’s due. You are some sort of miracle worker. My muscles have loosened up.”
Her expert eye assessed the degree of movement. He might still be in a bit of pain but what she had planned wouldn’t hurt him. In fact, she’d make him forget all about his back.
“Come with me.” She took his hand and led him to her bedroom. “You’re going to lie down and do exactly what I tell you to do.”
“You’re turning me on.” Riley brought her into his arms for another kiss. He whispered in her ear, “I have my handcuffs in the car.”
“If we run out of ideas, we’ll get them.” It was a good thing no one from the station could hear them. “I have something special I want to try on you.”
“What about what I want?” He stroked her breast with just the right firmness, holding up the nipple for a quick and devastating suck. “Are we going to have a battle for control in the bedroom, too?”
Paula unzipped him and pushed her hand down his pants. Oh, yes, he has one helluva package. “What battle? I’m in control.”
“You think?” He flipped her onto the bed and moved over her. Holding her wrists together over her head with one hand, he trailed his fingers down her breasts, touching, tormenting.
Paula thought about ways she could break his hold.
And rejected them.
She moved her hips instead, her legs parting in invitation. Riley brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her as he slid his hand up her leg, beneath her skirt. His thumb brushed between her legs where she could already feel the moisture seeping through her cotton panties.
Then his mouth followed his hand, kissing his way up her inner thigh while he tugged down her panties and flicked them away. He released her wrists but she was too limp to struggle. She found enough strength to pull his boxers down to his thighs. He sprang loose.
Come to Mama. “Hang on.” She fumbled in her bedside drawer for condoms—and flipped over her self-help book, hoping he hadn’t seen the title.
He did get an eyeful of her revolver. “Is that a gun in your drawer or are you just happy to see me?”
She winced. “Oh, that’s bad.”
“Hey, there’s not a lot of blood circulating upstairs.” He stood up to drop his jeans.
He put on a condom and she pulled him on top of her. He took her mouth with his, cupped both breasts in his hands and nudged her legs apart, sliding home.
They made love sharp and fast, bodies slick with sweat and massage oil, hips pumping, breath coming in pants. There was no more talking, no joking asides. Paula concentrated on Riley’s face inches away, and his hard, scarred body moving against hers. Their rhythm wasn’t perfect—she was too needy and he was in too much pain. But every thrust built the ache inside her to a higher peak. Her teeth ground together in the effort to get closer.
A bead of sweat dripped off his brow onto her cheek. Was he tiring because of his back? No, please no. Not when she was so close… .
She gave a heave and flipped him over, straddling his hips. His hands moved up to trace the dip of her waist and flared again to push up on her breasts. The heat in his eyes lit a fire in her belly. She paused to catch her breath then lowered herself onto him, holding his gaze. One thrust, two…and she broke. Riley, rigid and drenched, gave another pump of his hips and came, too.
Paula collapsed on top of him. If this was a mistake, she would take her lumps.
CHAPTER NINE
RILEY BLINKED HIS eyes, squinting against the sunlight coming through the cracks in Paula’s bedroom curtains. He stretched cautiously, not wanting to wake her. His body felt rested, with a sense of physical ease he hadn’t experienced for weeks.
No headache, no backache. He’d slept through the night. Whether it was the massage or the sex or spending time with Paula and Jamie he didn’t know, or much care. He felt good.
Only a corner of the sheet covered his hips and thighs. Paula had pulled the covers over her, tucking them in around her neck. Not used to sleeping with someone. Well, he was out of practice, too.
He turned on his side to look at her. Her blonde hair was spread across the pillow, her mouth was swollen from kissing, her chin lightly burned by his beard. A slight frown drew twin creases between her eyebrows. Even in sleep she worried. Not good. He wished he could wipe away that anxiety and make her feel safe.
He remembered the book he’d glimpsed in her bedside table. The Courage to Be Yourself. Why did she need a self-help manual? He’d never known a woman so gutsy.
Her lips twitched and curved up. Ah, that was better. He smoothed back a strand of hair that had fallen over her face and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
Her eyes, a dreamy blue, opened, and took a moment to focus. “Oh, my God.” She twisted to look at the clock. “We’re going to be late for work.”
“Who cares?” He stretched luxuriously. Then rolled onto his side, gathering her into his arms, twining his legs with hers. His mouth sought the spot behind her ear. She liked to be kissed there.
“No time for this.” Paula struggled to break free.
He released her. She shot out of bed, reaching for her dressing gown on a hook on the closed door. “Jamie will be up any minute. If you want a shower, have one now. Then you need to get going. Quickly.”
“What time is it?” Like he gave a damn. Riley stretched again, revelling in his pain-free back and head. “You are a miracle worker, you know that? Come here and give me a kiss.”
She threw his shirt at him. “Get out of bed. And remember, as far as Jamie is concerned, last night never happened. Got it?”
Ouch. She was serious. His smile faded. “I got it.” He rolled out of bed and started dressing. “I’ll shower at home.”
She yanked on her underwear drawer so hard that it came clear out of the dresser. Bras and panties fell in a heap on the carpet. Riley started to help her gather up her underwear.
“I’ll get this. You just go.” Lingerie clutched to
her chest, she pleaded, “Please?”
“You don’t want your son to know I’ve spent the night.” He nodded. “I get it. It’s too soon.”
“I don’t want anyone to know we spent the night together. Not the guys at the station, either.”
Okay, now that really hurt. Even though he, too, was of the opinion that smart cops didn’t get involved with work mates. In Paula’s case he was willing to make an exception. “Why not?”
“Because…” She blew a wisp of hair off her forehead. “Just because.”
“Not good enough.”
“We’re partners. It’s not professional. We have to behave normally around the station. No flirting, no stolen kisses, no sidelong glances—”
“Were you being professional when you slept with the criminal you were investigating?”
Her head jerked. “That’s a low blow.”
“It’s a valid question.”
“I’ve learned from my mistakes.” She got to her feet and stuffed the underwear in the drawer. “I needed to talk to you about something important last night. We got distracted. Now we don’t have time.”
Standing behind her, he took her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss on her neck. “Just tell me you don’t regret making love.”
Her shoulders slumped. “No, I don’t regret it.” She met his gaze in the mirror and sighed. “Sorry, I’m being a bitch.” She turned in his arms and cupped his jaw in her hands. “Thank you for all the work you did on my house. I feel safer thanks to you. My son is safer thanks to you.”
“Then I’ve fulfilled my purpose in life.” He spoke lightly but he meant every word.
Protecting people was what he did. It was why he’d gone into the SAS. It was what he was trained for. And it was what gave his life meaning. He’d struggled when he came out of the army until John had recruited him for the Summerside P.D.
He pulled on his jeans. “Will I see you again?”
“In less than an hour we’ll be on patrol together. So I think that’s a yes.”
“You know what I mean.”
Paula hesitated. “We really don’t have time for this conversation right now.”
“Twenty-five words or less.”
“Okay, it’s not just the moral code thing. I like you. I like you a lot. But you’re not stable.” She said it bluntly, looking him in the eye. “You’ve been amazing with Jamie and you’ve helped me enormously. But for my son’s sake, hell, for my own sake, I can’t get involved with a man who has unresolved emotional issues. Mental issues. Whatever they are.”
“I feel different this morning, honestly.” Riley twisted his torso, touched his toes a couple of times. “Not just physically but mentally, too. Lighter. I think I’ve made a breakthrough, no doubt thanks to you and your massage.”
“Massage is good but it’s not that good. I doubt your recovery is going to be that easy.”
He tried to kiss her again. “You wouldn’t want me to have a relapse because you rejected me, now would you?”
“I don’t know if you’re cured but you’re definitely back to being chatty.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. Then placed a finger over his mouth. “One-off.”
* * *
“MUM, I CAN’T FIND my school shirt.” Jamie, still in his pajamas, trailed after her down the hall as she carried the clothes hamper to the laundry room.
“Did you look in your dresser drawer?” Even the obvious wasn’t necessarily obvious to a six-year-old.
“I’ll go check.” His footsteps thudded lightly as he ran to his room.
Riley had tiptoed out of the house ten minutes ago, seconds before Jamie came out of his room. Paula had showered, dressed in her uniform and fixed her hair. On the outside she looked every inch the cop. On the inside she was a woman who ached in all the right places. She could still feel Riley’s lips pressed to her breast, his hands moving over her body. How was she going to face him in the Incident Room and pretend they hadn’t had awesome sex?
Paula transferred clothes from the basket to the washing machine. She grabbed the blue flannel shirt lying on top of the machine and started to push it in with the rest of the laundry. The unfamiliar feel of it stopped her. Riley’s shirt. She crushed the soft fabric between her fingers and a smile came unbidden. Then she sighed. She was so used to fending for herself, to being strong for Jamie, that she wasn’t certain how to react to Riley’s protectiveness. She wasn’t his girlfriend, she wasn’t even a friend, really. And yet, they depended on each other, at work and at home, too. And now they’d had sex, further complicating their partnership.
If he was a different sort of man, if she wasn’t so worried about Nick, they might have a chance together. But Riley had too many problems. And she couldn’t relax until Nick was out of her and Jamie’s lives for good.
She turned the shirt over in her hands. Should she wash it before returning it? It didn’t look dirty and he hadn’t worn it to work in. Feeling a bit odd, she raised the shirt to her nose. It smelled clean, like laundry detergent and fresh air. And Riley. She breathed in again and caught a faint tang of spicy aftershave…and the indefinable scent that came from contact with his skin. It was a good smell.
“What are you doing?” Jamie asked, now wearing his shirt. His hair stuck up in tufts from pulling it over his head.
“Nothing.” Flustered, she pushed Riley’s shirt into the washing machine, shut the door and added detergent. “Go start breakfast. I’ll be right there.”
She punched a few buttons, twirled the dial and pressed start. Jamie hadn’t moved from in the doorway. A frown wrinkled his forehead. “What’s wrong, mate?”
He dropped his gaze. Pushing at the groove between the tiles with his sock-covered toe, he said in a small voice, “I want to see my father.”
My poor baby. She crouched to give him a hug. “We’ve been through why you can’t, sweetheart. What started this again?” Please don’t let Nick have gotten to him somehow.
“Nothing. I just don’t get it. Why is he bad?”
Paula took a deep breath. “He sells drugs.”
“Like at the pharmacy?”
“No, bad drugs. Illegal, harmful drugs that are against the law to take or to sell.”
“But…you’re a cop. You wouldn’t…” Jamie’s nose scrunched as he tried, and failed, to come up with the words to express what he only vaguely knew his mother and this bad man must have done to produce a baby.
Lord help her. How did she explain to her child that she’d had sex with a man so she could arrest him? It sounded sleazy and it was. No fine words about “serving the greater good” could whitewash her actions in the black and white view of a child. And telling her son she’d made a mistake was tantamount to telling him that he was a mistake.
She crouched before Jamie and looked him in the eye. “Sometimes, out of bad things, good things come.” She hugged him hard and tears pricked her eyelids. “The good thing—the best thing in my life—is you.”
Jamie still looked unhappy. Maybe she’d told him that once too often without delivering what he really wanted.
“I wish I could give you a father, baby. I wish—” She broke off and had to swallow. She wanted to give Jamie the sun, the moon and the stars, the whole world. Instead, as the son of a convicted criminal, she’d given him a social handicap that would affect him for the rest of his life. She didn’t have the words to express how sad and ashamed that made her feel.
So she thrust her feelings aside, gave him another hug and got to her feet. “Let’s go. It’s time for school.”
* * *
SLEEPY SUMMERSIDE POLICE station was buzzing with activity when Paula finally got to work. John’s office door was closed but through the glass she could see him in earnest conversation with a tearful woman in her late forties. Crucek and Jackson were talking
volubly as they worked together at a computer. The phone in Dispatch was ringing off the hook. Patty could only say, “Hold please,” before picking up another line and repeating the request.
Three teenage boys wearing the local high school uniform were waiting in reception. They looked about fifteen and all had gelled hair styled in elaborate waves that stood out in different directions. Two boys wore sullen expressions. The third boy sat a little apart, looking terrified.
“What’s going on?” Paula whispered to Patty.
“They were caught with drugs at school,” Patty murmured. Then she spoke into her headset. “Summerside Police Department. Hold please.”
Paula walked through the bull pen into the locker room. Riley stood at his locker with his back to her. One glimpse and she went soft all over.
Damn. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to get romantic with a fellow officer. How could she be a tough cop if she was obsessing about her partner—thinking about sex, wondering if he really liked her, speculating about where it was leading?
Last night she had wanted to get busy with Riley. She’d wanted him so badly she’d gone against her better judgment.
He reached up to the top shelf in his locker and his shirt stretched across his shoulders, reminding her of his naked back, scarred and muscled and beautiful. Should she run away before he saw her or should she say something? She hated that she’d suddenly turned cowardly and indecisive.
Delinsky came out of the shower room, shrugging into his shirt. “Drummond. Did you hear the news?”
Riley turned. Their eyes met.
“Something about school boys and drugs.” She dragged her gaze away from Riley. “Did they get caught smoking a joint?”
There, she’d done it. She’d acted cool, as if Riley was merely the guy she regularly exchanged snarky insults with. She risked another peek at him. His expression was a complete blank. Even though she was getting exactly what she’d asked for, it cut her to the bone. Again reinforcing why she didn’t get involved. Relationships messed with her head.
“Crystal meth,” Riley answered for Delinsky. “Someone sold it to them on the way to school this morning. A teacher saw the boys talking to an older man and got suspicious when money changed hands.”