by Geri Krotow
He was snoring.
* * *
Holden woke to the aromas of coffee and bacon, two of his favorite scents. Second and third after the scent of female, which now took a place behind the scent of one particular woman.
Bella.
He looked at his watch, an antiquity he refused to give up even though most agents relied on their phones. He’d slept eight hours solid after Bella went back to her room, waking only when his alarm vibrated every two hours for him to do a house check. He trusted MVPD and the officers patrolling the yard to keep them secure, but he still wanted to check the inside regularly.
It’d taken every iota of bearing he had to not move when Bella came into the room. He’d started to doze off but immediately alerted when he heard her steps, then picked up her scent. A soft floral scent, belying the tough-skinned reporter image she projected. Mingled with what was undeniably her scent—musky, sexy, the epitome of feminine. Pure Bella.
It felt like it had been years instead of days that he’d had to keep his arms crossed, make himself not reach for her, grasp her waist, pull her to him, have her straddle him and allow him to press his erection against her until she writhed and they went back to her bedroom. Because he was going to make love to her in her bed, all night long.
Just not last night, or tonight, or anytime that he was on duty with the serial killer case. It was a rookie mistake to get involved with a civilian during an open investigation. He wasn’t about to compound it by risking her safety.
“You’re finally moving. Here’s your coffee.” She greeted him from the kitchen but stayed there, didn’t come close to him again. He felt like a class-A jerk.
“I was up every two hours, checking around.” He stretched, got up, walked to the counter. “Thanks.”
“I’m making eggs, if you want some.” She deftly cracked a brown egg against a clear glass bowl and looked at him.
“Sure, but only if you’ll let me make lunch.”
“Your job is to protect and serve, not cook.” She added more eggs, tossed in salt, pepper, cayenne and whisked them into a frothy concoction with a fork. Her defensive posture reflected what he’d feared.
“You know I wasn’t sleeping last night.”
“Yeah. Got that figured out.” She ignited the burner under a large pan, melted butter, poured the eggs. All without looking at him.
“It’s not that I don’t want to—”
“Spare me the integrity routine, Holden. My brother’s a cop, remember? I know the rules as well as anyone. You can’t get involved with someone during a case, especially one like this with the stakes so high. And you’re protecting me, so you don’t want to get distracted in any way, especially that way. Even if we did decide to pursue a connection it’s pointless, in the long run. You live two hours away in a big city—I’m here in Mustang Valley. You’re a big bad federal agent and I’m your nemesis, a reporter.”
“You’re a blogger.” Wasn’t that reporting light?
“A blogger and a journalist who is trying to get a job as an investigative reporter. Geesh, Holden, you still grimace whenever the word reporter comes up. What is your exact problem with the news media? It has to be more than what you told me in the diner.”
“I don’t have a problem with the media. The public needs information and it’s the best way to deliver it. My problem is that I don’t appreciate anything but the truth when it comes to reporting.” He paused, then decided to just say it. “And I am not impressed with the dishonesty reporters utilize to get their story.”
“Hmm.” She moved a spatula around the pan, scrambling the eggs into fluffy clouds. He noticed the sexy robe from last night—he’d peeked—was replaced by yoga capris and a tank top. Her hair was up in a high ponytail and she had zero makeup on. And was more startlingly beautiful than ever.
Discomfort had him lean against the counter, eager to figure out what she was thinking.
After she dished up the eggs, she slid a plate and fork to him and took her plate around the counter. They sat at the same small table as yesterday.
Holden had no idea how it’d happened, but one day felt like years. As if Bella had always been a part of his life. What did Grandma St. Clair used to say? That it only took a minute when it was the right one? She’d say that whenever she told the story about meeting Grandpa in Paris right after World War II.
Was Bella his match?
“Stop it.” She sipped her coffee, ate a few bites.
“What?” He decided to dig into the food before he said something more inflammatory.
“You’re trying to figure out why I’m not exploding at your nasty dig toward reporters. I don’t know a lot, Holden, but I do know that it’s never smart to generalize or label. I’m not some jerk trying to get a story by hurting anyone or lying to them.”
“You’re undercover, though, pretending to be in the pageant.”
She set her mug down a little firmer than necessary and her coffee sloshed over the edge. Her eyes were fire as she looked at him while sopping up the spill with her paper napkin.
“I’m not pretending to be anything, Holden. I’m in the pageant, a bona fide contestant.”
“You mean to tell me you’re going to take the scholarship if you win?”
She snorted, then giggled, then burst out into a belly laugh. “Holden, you are hilarious. Do you really think there’s any chance of me winning this competition? Have you even looked at the other women who are close to my age? They’ve been doing this far longer and have the system down.” She wiped her eyes with her hands. He’d made her cry, all right. To him, she was the clear winner in any competition.
“It’s a fair question.”
“It is. And if I won, I’d pass the scholarship on to my runner-up. But I have no reason to think I’m even in the top three. Gio used to say that by the end of day one it was pretty clear who the top five were. Trust me—it’s not me.”
“Who do you think it is, then?”
She tilted her head. “Marcie, because she’s been around and has all the right answers, Delilah because she’s Delilah, Leigh because even though she’s odd, she’s always on-brand, and maybe Becky. Do you know what’s going on with her?”
He nodded. “Spencer said she’s broken her ankle. It twisted when she was shoved down the backstage stairs. She’s out of the pageant.”
“Okay, so someone else is number four. And five could be any of the competitors, but definitely not me. The pageants haven’t had a debut contestant final in the last ten years.”
“You got this from Gio?”
She nodded. “Yes. Frankly, I have enough to write an exposé of the pageant industry in Mustang Valley, maybe even Arizona, from all that Gio’s told me. But I can only corroborate it with her mother. It’s not enough. And for the record? I think Leigh’s a shoo-in to win. She’s a little over-the-top with her positive-thinking preaching, but I sense she has a heart of gold. She has the enthusiasm needed to win.” Bella’s candor and total unselfconsciousness tugged at something deep in his chest. A small part of the glacier that was otherwise known as his heart broke away. He couldn’t hold back what he knew had to be a silly grin.
“What’s so funny?”
“Aww, nothing. Just thinking about how glaciers calve icebergs.”
“Some the size of small continents lately.” She alluded to climate change, but like a true reporter didn’t reveal how she felt about it. Which made him respect, and like her even more.
Like or lust?
He definitely was attracted to Bella—insanely so. But for the first time in forever, he was also impressed by a woman’s sense of honor, integrity. Nothing like his ex.
“Now you’re frowning, Holden.” He liked how his name sounded on her lips. Crisp but a loving roll to it.
“I’m thinking I may owe you an apology.”
“Why is t
hat? Are you done?” She nodded at his empty plate, then carried it to the sink when he raised his hands.
“Thanks.” He grabbed their mugs and glasses and set them on the counter. “Breakfast was delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” She pulled out latex gloves and he took them from her.
“I’ll clean up. You cooked—you’re done.”
“It’s not necessary—”
“Please.” He didn’t budge, didn’t let his gaze drift to where the tank top bared her shoulder and the lone angel drawn on it. An angel the size of a tiny fairy rested on her skin, its pink wings and hair unmistakably feminine.
“Fine. But tell me why you’re so against reporters while you clean up.”
She was so close, her scent teasing him as it had last night. Washing dishes was going to be his most difficult task to date on this case.
At least it kept his hands busy, and off Bella.
Chapter 14
Holden was looking at her with those bedroom eyes again. Did he realize it? Or was that expression purely a physical reaction to the chemistry that smoldered between them? Before she had a chance to consider asking him, he threw a dishtowel over his shoulder and went to work filling the sink with sudsy water.
“There’s room for a dishwasher but since it’s just me I haven’t been in a hurry to get one.”
“You don’t need one. I’m here.” He flashed his smile and she leaned a hip against the counter to keep from swooning toward him. Hopefully she appeared casual, not overly interested.
“Thanks. So, about your reporter hate?”
“Hate is the wrong word. My grandmother always said not to use it unless you really mean it.”
“Is she still here?”
“No, she passed away a couple of years ago. Ninety-nine years old and still tending the same ten acres I ran around on as a kid.” A wistful expression rolled across his face. “Funny, that’s the second time I’ve thought of her in as many days.”
“I’ve been thinking about my mom lately, too. Maybe it’s the pageant, or having our lives threatened?” She tried to make it light but the words were heavy.
He finished up and faced her. “I’ve had one or two scary situations. Most of my work is actually pretty boring, much more than, say, Spencer’s job as a sergeant and a K-9 handler. I’m not around the public each day, only when an investigation calls for it. It’s easy for me to end up in the office every day, all day, for long periods as I do research and search archival evidence for clues. But the few times I’ve thought I might be facing death, yeah, I’ve had thoughts of my loved ones. I think it’s natural.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever thought my life was being threatened until today with the explosion. The attack yesterday remains pretty much a blank still, other than what I already told you I remember. I’m not thrilled that someone planted surveillance equipment on my property, either, but again, that’s creepy, not life-threatening.”
He regarded her steadily. Not willing to look away, she allowed the heat to rise, to circle and settle in her most sensitive places. Was this when Holden was finally going to break down and do more than kiss her?
“About your question. Yes, I have a good reason for detesting reporters.” At what must have been her annoyed expression he held up a hand. “Most reporters. Okay, some reporters. My ex Nicole Drew was a reporter. I went into the relationship knowing it, and ignoring it for the most part. I had no reason to judge her or her profession.”
“Until?” She sensed his hesitancy to spill the truth. As if he was ashamed, or didn’t want to betray his ex’s confidence.
“Until I found out she was using me to get the information for an important story. The story? It involved another case I worked on. She tried to manipulate me to tell her classified information.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Holden. That’s rough.”
“Rough isn’t all of it, believe me. I am a total believer in free speech and the public’s right to know where their tax dollars are going. But not when it comes to the security of an ongoing case, or an innocent civilian’s safety.”
“That can be a hard line at times.” She thought about how her presence in the pageant might be what was drawing the attacker or killer out, but she didn’t want to quit until she got her story. Was that what Holden was talking about?
“Yes and no, Bella. Would you put someone’s life at risk for a story?”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing? Putting everyone at risk in Ms. Mustang Valley because I have red streaks in my hair and I’m not quitting? Would you have to spend any time away from the pageant or school if I weren’t still in the contest?”
“No, I’d be at the school for most of my time. Which isn’t always the answer, to be at the event venue. Killers go for live bodies, not buildings. Today’s explosion was an exception, a distraction so that no one would see Becky get shoved down the stairs. I’m convinced it wasn’t an accident—she’s been in Ms. Mustang Valley eight of the last ten years. She graduated from Mustang Valley High, your classmate if I’m correct. There’s no way she’d miss those stairs.”
She watched him speak, saw the depth of emotion behind his words. Holden was the epitome of dedication to duty and if she wasn’t already hot for his smoking bod, she’d be drawn to his honesty and intensity. Totally.
“Have you heard any more about what Becky remembers? Does she know who pushed her?”
He leaned back and picked up his phone, tapped and scrolled for a few seconds. “Yes. But no, she doesn’t know who pushed her. According to Spencer, she was grabbed from behind, heard a scary voice tell her “Leave Colton alone,” and then she was dragged to the stairwell. The last she remembers are hands on her back, throwing her into the pit. No one heard her scream because of the explosion.”
Chills pricked at her nape. “That’s horrible! And sounds exactly like the person who attacked me.”
Holden nodded. “Agreed. But there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Spencer and the rest of MVPD are all over the school, combing the area for evidence of any kind. The surveillance equipment we found here didn’t have any prints but my officemate is searching for possible retailers.”
“That’s a needle in a humongous haystack.” She couldn’t imagine narrowing down what had looked to her like a standard surveillance camera to one particular retailer.
“Yes, but you never know. We catch criminals best when we’re working all the angles.”
“I’m sorry you can’t be in the thick of it, Holden.”
“But I am. I couldn’t be at the school now, or I’d risk blowing my cover. Too many of the agents and local MVPD know me and might unwittingly reveal my true identity. I’ve got my laptop and I can access some sites, though not most of the ones I’d need. I’m okay with being here, Bella.”
“Tell me the same in twelve hours. We’re still not leaving until tomorrow morning, are we?”
“Nope. You are correct.” The smoldering look was back in his eyes.
“Thanks for telling me why you don’t like reporters. And I’m sorry about your ex. I can’t tell you I’m not willing to do whatever it takes for the truth, though. I have done whatever I need to for a story before, and entering Ms. Mustang Valley is no exception.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “You are nowhere near my ex.” His breath was hot on her skin, making her lips tingle. He laughed and the chuckle vibrated through his chest, which she felt as her arms were braced against his torso. It was longing in the best way, this ache that wrapped around her. “I can’t think about her when I’m looking at you, babe.”
“Holden.” She wanted to say something, let him know that she wasn’t looking for anything other than to explore this insane desire between them. Instead she closed her eyes and wished for the stars.
Please don’t leave me frustrated again.
“I haven’
t been able to stop thinking about kissing you again. Forgive me for overstepping my professional boundaries, Bella, but I have to have you.” He lowered his lips to hers and just as on the back of the stage, her skin turned hot and her insides melted into liquid want. She reached around his waist, grabbed onto his T-shirt and tugged him as close as the embrace would allow.
Holden’s tongue took every liberty with her mouth that she was willing to surrender. The moans in her throat were impossible to stem, and she almost cried out when he moved his hands lower to her hips and brought her snug against him. His need and response to her was evident and she moved her hips against his erection, needing the contact.
“Babe.” He lifted her as if she was no heavier than the frying pan and placed her on the counter bar. Face-to-face, they looked at one another. His eyes were half-lidded. His hands rested on her thighs, heat searing through her workout bottoms.
“Are you sure, Bella?”
“Definitely.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, licked their outline with her tongue. “Don’t tease me, Holden.” His whiskers scraped against her skin and he fully opened his mouth to her.
Bella reveled in taking the lead, and loved that he let her. But kissing him wasn’t enough. A deep part of her acknowledged that she’d never get enough of Holden St. Clair but she couldn’t spend energy on the thought. Getting up close and the most personal possible with him was everything.
She wriggled her hips until her bottom was all but hanging off the counter edge, and lucky for her Holden let his arms and hands work again. He grasped her cheeks much as he had backstage, but this time, alone, certain of no intrusion by unwanted observers, he lifted her to him, his hands running the length of her hamstrings. She wrapped her legs around him as if they’d done this before, as if they already knew one another as intimately as she longed for.
* * *
Holden finally experienced what he’d suspected. Bella’s skin tasted as sweet as it looked. He took his time, licking, kissing, teasing every inch of her lips and mouth. When she tilted her head back for his access, he buried his head between her breasts and one by one, kissed the very tops of them, to where her tank stretched across her chest.