by LENA DIAZ,
He’d only taken one step toward the hallway when she slapped him.
He drew up short, his face stinging. “What the hell was that for?”
She thumped his chest again with her finger. “I’m not sleeping with you. Put . . .” She hiccupped again. “Put me down.”
“I’m just carrying you to your room so you can go to sleep. Alone.”
“Put. Me. Down.”
He set her on her feet and held his hands around her waist until he was sure she could stand on her own.
She waved her fingers at him. “Now shoo. Much drinking to do, I have.” She giggled at her less-than-inspired impression of Yoda and headed toward the kitchen, her gait far steadier than Matt had expected.
Still, he didn’t want her drinking any more. He needed her sober or asleep, so he could leave without worrying about her safety.
He caught up to her as she pulled a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator. He snagged her Glock from her holster with one hand and the wine bottle with the other.
“Hey, give that back.” She made a swipe for the bottle, not seeming to notice he’d taken her gun.
“I’ll pour it for you. Go wait in the living room.”
She eyed him suspiciously but seemed to accept his statement. She headed back into the other room.
Matt put the wine back in the refrigerator. He took the magazine clip out of the gun and set both on top of the refrigerator. He’d leave her a note so she’d know where they were when she woke up tomorrow, but for now, he was confident she was too short to spot them this high up.
A quick search of her pantry found the makings for coffee. He’d just pressed the on switch to start the pot brewing when the sound of slow jazz music floated in from the other room.
He leaned around the end of a cabinet to see what she was doing and promptly forgot how to breathe.
She’d managed to lose all her clothes except for her underwear. Matt would never be able to look at her the same way again, knowing she wore those sexy scraps of lace under her business suits.
She swayed to the music, her eyes closed. Then she lifted her right hand and took a deep drink from a bottle of whiskey.
Damn. Where had she gotten that from?
He should have run to her, taken away the whiskey, and covered her with the blanket from the back of the couch. But at that exact moment, he couldn’t have turned away from the erotic beauty displayed so boldly in front of him if his life depended on it.
His hungry gaze traveled over her body like a starving man staring at a banquet. He desperately wanted that banquet, every little morsel. Knowing he couldn’t have her, not even a taste of her, had him clutching the edge of the countertop.
She was drunk, which was reason enough not to touch her. But even more than that, any chance he might have had at a relationship with her had evaporated the moment Casey suspended her.
He said every curse word he knew as he watched her beautiful body swaying to the music. His pants grew uncomfortably tight and he struggled to draw a normal breath. He had to sober her up, fast, and get the hell out of this torture chamber.
He wrenched his gaze from her enticing curves and searched the cabinets for a coffee cup. After finding everything from Tylenol to glasses and plates, he finally opened the right cabinet and took down a coffee cup. The sudden feel of hands stroking his rear had him jerking against the counter. The coffee cup fell out of his hands and shattered in the sink.
Soft laughter sounded behind him. He whirled around and immediately regretted that mistake as Tessa’s hands dipped down to the front of his pants. He cursed again and grabbed her wandering hands in a tight grip.
“Stop it,” he ordered, as she struggled to pull her hands free.
Her brows lowered. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She took a step forward, instead of back, trapping him against the sink. Every delectable inch of her body pressed against his. He shuddered and pulled her against him, angling his head down for a kiss.
No. No. No. Somewhere in his lust-fogged brain a shred of honor remained, reminding him this wasn’t right, that she didn’t know what she was doing. He straightened, and tried like hell not to focus on how incredibly edible she smelled.
She arched her head up toward his. “Don’t stop, Matthew. Kiss me.”
Normally he hated being called Matthew, but on her lips it sounded like a lover’s caress, an invitation.
His breath caught in his throat as she wiggled her body against the front of his pants. He let her hands go just long enough to pick her up and set her away from him. But she wanted nothing to do with that. Before he could scoot around her and escape, she yanked his shirt out of his waistband.
He sucked in a breath and grabbed her hands again as she started to slide them beneath his shirt. He retreated to the eating area, his hands out in front of him to keep her back. But Tessa stalked after him like a hungry tigress.
“Stop running away,” she slurred. She stopped and swayed, pressing her hands against the side of her head. “Good grief, there are two of you.” She giggled. “Well, that will be a first for me. Come on, Matthew. You can only wiggle that gorgeous ass of yours in front of a girl for so long before you have to pay up. I’ve wanted you ever since you taunted me with that golden skin and all those hard muscles at Pierce’s house. I need to work you out of my system.”
Oh God. Words he would love to hear if only she were sober.
He grabbed her wandering hands again. “Tessa, you don’t even like me, remember? I’m the bad guy who got you suspended.”
She stilled, her eyes widening as his words sank in. The sexy siren look evaporated. “You’re right. It’s all your fault. I hate you.”
So not the words he wanted to hear.
Tessa’s face crumpled. She tugged her hands from his and reached up to feather her fingers along his jaw. “That’s a lie. I don’t hate you. I want to, but I don’t.” She shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. “I could have stopped you from destroying that letter. But I didn’t. My choice. My fault.” She slid to the floor, her shoulders shaking as heart-wrenching sobs wracked her body.
“Ah, hell, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” He scooped her into his arms.
She shoved against him, but he ignored her struggles and carried her to the living room. He sat down with her on his lap and covered them both with the blanket from the back of the couch.
Tessa smacked her fist against his chest. Once, twice, three times.
“Go ahead, hit me. I deserve that and more. But I’m not leaving until I know you’re going to be okay.”
She gradually quieted in his arms. Her fist relaxed against him and soft snores replaced the tears.
Matt let out a shaky breath and smoothed back Tessa’s bangs. If he lived a hundred years he’d never forget the look of devastation on her face right before she slid to the floor. He’d always known her career was important to her, but he’d never realized it was this vital, this critical to her sense of who she was. Her precious FBI career meant everything to her.
And he’d single-handedly destroyed it.
She hiccupped and settled more deeply against him. He smoothed his hand up and down her back, marveling that he was holding this half-naked, beautiful creature and wasn’t wracked with lust like he had been earlier. Oh, he still wanted her. Wanting her was like breathing. But what he wanted more right now was to fix what he’d broken. But how could he do that?
He held her until the sun stopped shining against the blinds on the window, until only moonlight filtered into the room, until Tessa quit hiccupping and her breathing turned deep and even. Then he stood and carried her to her bedroom. He raked back the peach-colored comforter, settled her on the cool sheets, and tucked the covers around her.
As he retreated to the living room, the same question he’d been pondering since she’d fallen asleep in his arms hammered at him again.
How could he fix what he’d broken? How could he make it up to her for destroying her dream?
Somehow, he had to give her back her dream.
Chapter Seven
* * *
Day Three
TESSA PAUSED ON the sidewalk in front of the FBI building. She held her soon-to-be-surrendered badge in one hand and massaged her temple with the other. No amount of pills or caffeine had been able to touch her headache. Obviously she drank too much last night. Way too much. But any memories from the time she’d boarded the airplane in Charleston to when she’d awakened this morning were frustratingly elusive.
Waking up in her bed nearly naked without remembering how she’d gotten there was scary enough. Finding a cryptic note from Matt on her kitchen countertop, telling her that her gun was on top of the refrigerator and that he’d pick her up tonight for dinner, was absolutely terrifying. She could think of only one explanation for her state of undress and his assumption that she’d go out with him.
They must have slept together.
She’d started to call him several times, but every time she picked up her phone she changed her mind. What was she supposed to say? Should she be up-front and ask him if they’d had sex? That could be embarrassing on so many levels, regardless of the answer, that she’d shied away from calling him altogether.
Later. She’d deal with Matt and the fallout from last night later. Right now she had to pull herself together for the task at hand. She pressed her hand to her queasy stomach and held up her badge, rubbing her fingers across its glossy surface. Was this the last time she’d ever hold her credentials?
A kaleidoscope of memories rushed through her mind—the criminal justice courses she’d loved so much in college, studying under some of the greatest minds in law enforcement at the Quantico academy, putting dozens of criminals away over the past eight years. What was she going to do if all of that was over? And how was she going to face herself in the mirror if more people died at the hands of the Ashes Killer? Could she have solved the case in time to save more lives if she hadn’t been foolish enough to get suspended? Unfortunately, she’d never know the answer to that question. How was she supposed to live with that kind of guilt?
The front door opened. One of the junior agents stepped outside, probably on his way to lunch. He called a greeting and held the door open for her.
She gave him a bright smile, like she wasn’t dying inside, and stepped into the building.
AS PROMISED IN the note he’d left, Matt was standing outside Tessa’s apartment at seven p.m. His knock was rewarded with the sound of cursing from inside. He chuckled. Apparently, Tessa wasn’t thrilled to see him. When she opened the door, she clung to it with a death grip, as if it could shield her from an invading army.
Not a good sign.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He gave her his most charming smile, the one his sister-in-law said could make a nun rethink her vows. “Ready to go?”
She shook her head and smoothed one of her hands down her cream-colored slacks.
So much for his charm.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “We’re not working together anymore, and . . . last night was, um, well . . . it can’t happen again. I appreciate you making sure I got home safely, but whatever we . . . I mean . . .” Her face turned an enchanting shade of pink. “I’m not going to dinner with you.”
Ah, so she didn’t remember last night, and she was wondering if they’d had sex. He could smell victory already.
He leaned against the door frame and affected an injured look. “Are you saying you didn’t mean all those things you said last night?”
Her eyes widened with panic.
He almost felt sorry for her.
She squeezed her hands together. “I . . . ah, you’re very, you . . . I might have given you the, um, wrong impression about . . . us.” She cleared her throat. “I apologize.”
He blinked. Twice. “You apologize?” He cocked his head as if he was confused. “For which part exactly are you apologizing?”
Her cheeks flushed. She looked like she was about to choke on her own tongue.
He decided to show her mercy, but only a little. He took her hand in his. “Have dinner with me and I promise, if you want nothing to do with me after that, I won’t bother you anymore.”
She chewed her bottom lip in indecision.
He moved in for the kill.
“If it makes you more comfortable, we can pretend nothing happened, but only if you’ll agree to dinner.”
Her expression brightened. “Okay. I’ll grab my purse.”
He gritted his teeth at her enthusiasm. The woman sure knew how to deflate a male ego. It didn’t matter, or at least it shouldn’t matter. Tonight wasn’t about him. Tonight was about repairing the damage he’d done. Tonight he was bringing out the big guns—namely, his family. He had four charming brothers and a father who was a litigator. That was six against one.
Half an hour later, he drove his car up the winding gravel driveway that ran through the middle of his father’s extensive property. The long, rambling ranch house came into view.
“Um, Matt, isn’t this your father’s house? I thought we were going to a restaurant just outside of town.”
“This is just outside of town. And my brothers grill the best steaks in Savannah.”
She gave him a suspicious look and crossed her arms.
He grinned and studied the slew of pickups parked to the left of the drive, evidence of his father and brothers’ preference for trucks. It looked like everyone was here for their traditional Friday night family get-together.
He frowned. No, not everyone.
Pierce’s vintage GTO was missing. Had Madison been too tired to come over? Or was something wrong? With her this far along in her pregnancy, anything could have happened. Damn. He should have called and checked on her. He couldn’t count on his father or brothers calling him with that kind of news, because they had an agreement never to call him when he was in the middle of an investigation. He’d forgotten to turn off the ringer on his phone once while on a stakeout. One of his brothers happened to call him right when the guy he was snapping pictures of walked by. That had landed him in the hospital for two days.
He pressed the speed dial on his cell phone for his brother Pierce as he pulled his car to a stop. One ring, two, three.
Tessa put her hand on his forearm. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m worried about Madison. I don’t see Pierce’s car.” Four rings, five. “And Pierce isn’t answering.” He ended the call and popped his door open.
He hesitated, but his concern for his sister-in-law outweighed everything else. He took Tessa’s hand in his. “Look, I know you don’t remember what happened last night. I used that against you to trick you into coming here, mainly because you wouldn’t be able to just walk out if things didn’t go well. We need to talk.”
At her worried look, he rushed to explain.
“Not about last night. I promise, nothing happened. You drank too much on the plane. I took you home and you managed to get hold of a whiskey bottle before I could stop you. But that was it. Nothing else happened.”
Her mouth dropped open in a silent oh.
He winced. “Yeah, I know. I’m a jerk for using your foggy memory against you.” He handed her his keys. “Drive yourself home and lock the keys inside the car. I’ll use the spare key to pick it up later.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I really am sorry.”
He shut the door and jogged across the front lawn to the porch. He was reaching for the doorknob when the sound of the engine being shut off had him turning around.
Tessa joined him on the porch and handed him the keys. She gave him a wry smile. “Believe it or not, you just charmed me into staying.” She dropped her gaze from his. “I’ve remembered enough about last night to know that if we didn’t sleep together, it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. You’re a far better man than I’ve been giving you credit for. And, honestly, I’m concerned about your sister-in-law too. I want to make sure she and the baby are okay.”
He didn
’t know what to say to that surprising speech, so he gave her hand a grateful squeeze and led her inside.
SHE RAN HER warm tongue up the side of his neck in one long, wet slurp.
“Stop it, get off me.” Matt laughed and scooted back on his father’s bed, gently shoving Ginger off his lap. His golden had obviously missed him while he was out of town and she was trying to make up for lost time.
“Exactly who are you talking to?” Madison demanded over the phone.
Matt patted his dog and she rolled over on her back, lounging across the bed as if it were her own. Judging by the amount of long, red hairs on the comforter, maybe it was her bed. Since he couldn’t imagine his father allowing the dog to sleep with him, he wondered where his father had slept. One glance at the recliner in the far corner, with a folded blanket and pillow on top, told him the answer. He laughed again, trying to imagine his stern father scolding the rambunctious golden retriever to get her to stay off his bed, and then finally giving up.
He’d have to make amends by getting his father’s comforter cleaned.
“Matt?”
“Sorry, it’s Ginger. She’s letting me know she missed me. I came back into dad’s room to call you and she came bounding in like a horse. I’m lucky she didn’t break the bed when she jumped up here. Are you sure you’re okay? It’s not like you and Pierce to miss our weekly family tradition. And I had to call you three times before you picked up.”
The hesitation on the other end of the line had Matt’s pulse picking up.
“Madison? Is something wrong?”
“I’m here. Sorry, I got distracted. Everything’s fine.”
“You would tell your favorite brother-in-law if something was wrong, right?”
“Devlin? Of course I’d tell him.”
“Ha, ha. So not funny.”
She laughed. “Stop worrying. I’m fine. The baby’s fine. Everyone is fine. Now go have one of those mouthwatering steaks and quit worrying about me. Pierce is here. He won’t let anything bad happen. Honestly, you Buchanan men are ridiculously overprotective. It’s so Neanderthal of you.”