Calculating Desires (The Rockford Security Series Book 4)

by Jones, Lee Anne

  “Yeah.” Chase stepped forward to look Springer over. “Thanks to Alison’s help here, we figured out who the cheaters are and caught them.”

  “Yes. Thanks so much, Alison.” Shelby moved in beside her. “Oh, gosh. Your arm looks pretty bad. Let me call the house doctor over to take a look at it.”

  “No, no. I’m fine.” She inched away. “Really. It’s nothing.”

  Chase took her hand and lifted it away along with the now soaked handkerchief. “No. That’s a nasty cut. You need to go to the ER. Probably needs stitches.”

  As much as she hated crowds, hospitals were even worse. Hospitals kept records and medical records could lead Copernatech right to her doorstep. “Honestly, I’m fine. I’ll just bandage it up and I’m all good.”

  The woman Blake had called Liv piped up next. “You know, I installed a brand new first aid kit at Owen’s apartment. Fully stocked and raring to go. His place is right around the corner too.”

  Blake took her elbow gently and guided Alison toward the front door before she could protest. “Sounds like a plan.” It wasn’t until she was standing outside the casino that Alison realized he’d hauled Owen out too right alongside her. He gave them both a slight push on the back before heading back inside. “You guys go take care of her arm. I’ll handle things here.”

  “What about the police reports and the paperwork and—”

  “I got it,” Blake said, holding up a hand to severe Owen’s excuses. “Ex-police force, remember? Besides, there’s nothing here you can’t handle later, cuz. Go take care of what’s important.”

  “He’s right.” Shelby joined them outside. “In fact, take the rest of the day off. You’ve been working non-stop the past couple of weeks and deserve a break after this. I’ll handle any questions for now.”

  “Go on.” Blake waved them off. “Go. We’ll take care of it and I’ll call you if anything comes up, okay? Owen, take care of Alison. You owe here, especially after she did you a big favor by stopping that guy. Show her some appreciation.”

  Alison’s cheeks heated under his double entendre, but she was too tired to argue now that her adrenaline buzz was wearing off. Plus, her arm stung like a son of a bitch. Dazed and slightly shaky, she allowed Owen to lead her through the covered Fremont Street Experience and out into the bright sunshine beyond.

  Twelve

  “So, uh, here we are again.” Owen unlocked the door to his apartment and gestured for Alison to enter ahead of him. “I wasn’t expecting company, so, forgive me if it’s kind of a mess.”

  He closed the door behind him and shook his head, glad she couldn’t see his face. Jesus, he was babbling like some teenaged kid, all because he’d brought a pretty girl home. Sighing, he dropped his keys on a side table and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  Correction.

  Not pretty. Gorgeous.

  Even with one arm all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and her hair wild from the altercation at the casino, she looked like his every fantasy come to life. All soft, curvaceous, delectable woman.

  Owen cleared his throat to loosen the sudden constriction and forced a weak smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Alison stood in the middle of his living room, staring at the wall of family pictures Liv had put up yet again. “No. I’m good, thanks. I would like to get this cleaned up though.” She raised her injured forearm. “Can you show me where that first aid kit is?”

  “Right, sure.” He led her back to the bathroom where he’d stowed the kit under the sink, cursing himself inwardly the whole time.

  Here she is bleeding all over the place and all you can think of is getting in her pants.

  Nice, asshole.

  Hoping to make amends for his earlier idiocy, he pointed toward the ledge of his bathtub. “Have a seat. That’s kind of an awkward spot to do things yourself. I’ll help.”

  She did as he asked, if somewhat reluctantly. While he fished out the first aid kit, along with several clean towels and a washcloth, he tried to keep the banter light. “So, where’d you learn to fight? Those were some pretty impressive skills you showed back there.”

  “Oh.” Alison frowned and looked away. “Self-defense classes.”

  “Rough neighborhood where you’re from?”

  “Something like that.”

  Her non-answer made him swivel slightly to glance at her. Dots of pink now flushed her cheeks and dark smudges colored the delicate skin beneath her eyes. Hell, she looked as stressed and exhausted as he was.

  An unexpected wave of protectiveness surged through him and he gathered the things to patch her arm then knelt in front of her. Gingerly, Owen grasped her forearm and started to peel back the bloody handkerchief tied around it.

  “Ouch!” She clenched her teeth, her gaze lowered, and her brows drawn together. “It really stings.”

  “I’m sorry.” Once the cloth was gone, the cut started to bleed again, but thankfully after he got it cleaned up it wasn’t as deep as he’d originally thought. He’d seen his share of wounds in combat and this one didn’t look like it would need stitches. “This might hurt a bit, but we need to make sure it’s clean so it doesn’t get infected.”

  Owen dabbed a cotton pad soaked in antibacterial solution around the area, doing his best to concentrate on keeping his touch gentle and light and not think about how silky her skin felt beneath his fingertips.

  Nose wrinkled, Alison squeezed her eyes shut and looked away. “Thanks for helping me. It would’ve been hard to do it myself. You were right.”

  “Say that again.”

  “What?”

  “The last part.” He glanced up at her and grinned. “It’s not something a man hears too often. I just want to savor the moment.”

  At last, her serious expression cracked into a wide smile as he tossed the soiled cotton pads into the trash and opened several packages of sterile gauze to cover the cut. “Funny. Where’d you learn to play nursemaid?”

  “Military.” His answer came out more clipped than he’d wanted, but his past wasn’t something he wanted to discuss. “We all got trained in basic first aid and wound care.”

  “What branch?”

  “Marines.”

  “Semper Fi?”

  He narrowed his gaze on her arm, wrapping a length of ace bandage around the area to keep the gauze pads in place. Semper Fi. Always faithful. He should have those words tattooed across his damned forehead so he never forgot what happened, why he had to be cautious in the future.

  The woman before him now, with her clear green eyes and soft, full mouth made him want to forget. Forget everything except the way she felt in his hands, the way she tasted on his tongue, the way her body melded to his perfectly.

  “Yeah. Okay.” He straightened and picked up the supplies. “That should be good to go.”

  “Right.” She nodded and stared at the floor. From her confused, slightly hurt expression she’d taken his abruptness as a rejection, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t allow himself to trust her. Not after everything that bitch Faith had put him through, after everything he’d done to fight his way back to normal after his discharge. After everything that had happened over the last couple of days at the casino.

  “Um, thanks.” She started to get up then swayed slightly on her feet.

  Owen spotted her near collapse in the mirror and caught her before she hit the floor. “Hey. You okay?”

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m feeling dizzy all the sudden.”

  She tried to push him away, but he held fast. No way was he letting her hurt herself even more on his behalf today. Slipping one arm around her back and the other under her knees, he picked up her slight weight and carried her out into the living room then placed her on the sofa where they’d sat the day before.

  “You rest a minute, okay?” He took her hands in his, frowning at their cold, clammy feel. Maybe she’d done more than cut her arm on the glass.

  If that bastard hurt her before I got there…

&n
bsp; Cold rage stormed his overtaxed system. Hurting women topped his list of justifiable reasons for homicide, and he’d relish the chance to kick some cheater ass right about now anyway. But a quick scan of her showed no signs of additional injury, only those tantalizing curves he remembered all too well. He covered her with an afghan from the back of the sofa then stepped back, away from temptation. “I’ll, uh, finish in there then be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  Her voice sounded weak and quiet, so different from the spitfire he was used to. His worry skyrocketed. “You’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

  She nodded and he rushed back to the bathroom to clean up the rest of their mess in record time. When he returned, thankfully, her color had returned and she seemed more alert. He took off his suit jacket and tie, loosening the top buttons on his shirt and his cuffs.

  “Want something to drink now? How about food? When’s the last time you ate?” Owen rolled up his shirtsleeves and headed into his open kitchen. “I haven’t had time to hit the grocery store recently but I think I can throw together something.”

  “I had an omelet earlier at Faye’s.”

  “Okay.” He peered in his fridge and spotted some leftover nachos from his dinner the night before. “Um, how about Mexican? You like nachos?”

  “Love ‘em.” Alison tried to sit up then fell back against the cushions. “But don’t go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” Owen removed the carryout container from the fridge then gave her his best mock stern look. “And you stay there, missy. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl.”

  While he set about heating up their dinner, he heard her click on the TV. Soon the sounds of the nightly news reports filled the air.

  “Hey, the Lucky Ace bust is on the nightly news.”

  “Yeah?”

  Good. Dirty fuckers.

  If he had his way, he’d plaster the pictures of Walpole and his accomplice up all over town so that bastard would never be able to play in Vegas again. He split the sizable portion of nachos into equal halves on two separate plates, added a dollop of salsa to each, then carried their food into the living room. “Here you go.”

  “Yum! Thanks so much.” Alison sat up, steadier this time and gobbled up a chip full of stringy cheddar cheese. “Mmm. These are so good.”

  Owen did his best to focus on the news and not the slight sheen of grease coating her lips or his insane urge to lick it off himself. Body tight, he went back to the kitchen to grab their beverages and some napkins. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

  “Pale ale?”

  “Perfect.”

  He returned with two chilled bottles and a stack of napkins then took a seat a safe distance away on the opposite end of the sofa. As he dug into his food, he realized he really was starving. With the craziness of the day, he’d not had a chance to eat at all. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Good for the waistline, not so good for life in general. Mouth full, he hazarded a glance at Alison and found her stuffing her face as well.

  He always did love a woman with a healthy appetite.

  Wait. What?

  Owen paused with a bite of nacho halfway to his mouth.

  Love?

  That would not happen.

  He and Alison barely knew each other. Sure, she was attractive. Massively hot, even. Way hotter than Faith. Hotter than any other woman he’d ever known, truth be told.

  But love?

  Nah. No way.

  The chip in his hand gave way, spilling cheese and beans and salsa all down the front of his clean white shirt. “Shit.”

  “Oh.” Alison set her plate aside and squinted at the stain. “Have any seltzer water?”

  “I think there’s some in the fridge. Why?”

  “My turn to help.” She set her now empty plate on the coffee table in front of them then got up and went into the kitchen, coming back with a bottle of water and a dishtowel. She brushed his hands away from where he was only making the mess worse and poured water on the towel before dabbing it against the greasy stain on his chest. “Seltzer water helps keep it from setting.”

  “Huh.” The word squeaked out past his rigid vocal cords. She’d leaned in closer and now her flowery scent and heat surrounded him, driving his masculine senses into the red zone. Not to mention the continued stroke of her fingers against his skin. There might’ve been a layer of material between them, but their magnetic connection knew no boundaries. Pretty soon, his vocal cords weren’t the only things going rigid. Frazzled and frustrated, he grabbed her hand and took the towel. “I can get it now. Thanks.”

  “Oh, sure.” She sat back, bringing her lips within inches of his. “Whatever you want.”

  What he wanted was to thrown her down on the sofa and fuck her until they were both screaming in ecstasy, but that seemed about as wise as jumping off a hundred story building. He shook his head. Given the sexual fire singeing his common sense, he probably had a better chance of surviving the fall from a skyscraper versus surviving a night with her and leaving with his heart intact.

  “Sorry.” She moved back to her corner of the sofa and clutched the afghan tight around her. “I didn’t mean to…” Alison tossed her long red curls over her shoulder and stared straight ahead at the TV screen. “You know. I mean, with your girlfriend and all.”

  “Girlfriend?” He leaned forward to set the water and towel on the table beside his plate. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The woman today, the pretty brunette. What was her name? Liv?”

  “Okay, ewww. Liv’s my cousin.” Owen stood and untucked his shirt, both to help it dry and also to cover any future embarrassing situations that seemed to arise whenever she was around, then sat back down and toed off his shoes before stretching out his legs. “Besides, nothing happened.”

  Liar.

  His semi-erect cock was testament to that.

  Owen clasped his hands atop his full stomach and stared at the TV without really seeing it. His full attention, for better or worse, was zeroed on the woman a mere five feet away.

  “Hmm.” Alison shifted in her seat and one of her feet brushed the side of his thigh. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed it, massaging it gently. “Oh. That feels amazing.”

  Neither of them spoke for a while. Her, eyes closed and head back against the sofa cushions, him soothing her tense muscles and imagining all the other areas of her body he’d like to stroke and massage and caress.

  At last, she peeked one eye open and peered over at him. “Woman issues.”

  “What?” He moved his hand from her foot to her ankle, still kneading her tense muscles.

  “You mentioned woman issues the other day…” The dreamy, breathless quality of her voice only added to his haze of lust.

  “I’ve dated my share of women in the past.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She coughed and tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. Not yet. He slid his fingertips higher to rub circles on her calf. This time her words rushed out in a slightly nervous tumble. “Nothing. I just, well, I just meant that a good-looking guy like you, well, you probably have tons of women lined up to be with you. That’s all.”

  Owen smiled, working her tired muscles with gentle pressure. Good to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their interactions. “You think I’m good looking?”

  “You know you are.” She gasped as his fingers moved to her knee, but he shushed her like a skittish colt.

  “Easy.” He scooted closer for better reach. “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” The word felt rough leaving his throat and desire pulsed hot and hard through his veins. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on. Maybe never. Higher, higher, his hands moved to her quadriceps muscle and this time she moaned lo
w in her throat.

  Christ Almighty, if she made noises like that with his hands on her legs, imagine the sounds she’d make with him buried deep inside her. Overcome with passion and too tired to fight it anymore, Owen leaned closer still, bringing his mouth millimeters from hers, then said her name, his voice reverent like a prayer. “Alison?”

  “Yes?” She opened her pretty green eyes, her expression dazed.

  “I want you.”

  Slowly, she brought her hands around his neck, sliding her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivered at the contact. “I want you too, Owen.”

  “Yes.” He captured her lips with his, kissing her deeply while he scooped her up in his arms again, careful to avoid hurting her injured arm. He carried her down the short hall to his bedroom and placed her on the mattress before stretching out beside her. It had been so fucking long since he’d taken a lover, since he’d found anyone he wanted enough, trusted enough. He kissed her again and slid his hand beneath the hem of her T-shirt, loving the way she shuddered under his touch. “God, yes. You feel so amazing.”

  “So do you.” Apparently as eager as him for skin-to-skin contact, she made quick work of the buttons down the front of his shirt then shoved her hands inside to push it off his shoulders and expose his chest to her touch, her kisses, her licks. “You taste good too.”

  He chuckled against the side of her neck, rocking his hips against hers to allow her to feel the full extent of his arousal. “Are you as turned on as I am right now?”

  “More.” As if to prove it, she raked her nails down the expanse of his spine and pulled him tighter against her, pressing the heat of her denim-covered heat core against his painfully hard cock. “I need you inside me. Now.”

  Damn. The first time he usually went slower, gentler. He liked to take his time and get to know his partner, what she liked, what she loved, what made her crazy with need. This time though, he was too far gone for finesse.

  “Fuck me, but I need to be inside you. So fucking deep inside you, honey.”