Dangerous Desires

by Dawn Altieri

  “I know it needs work,” he said. “The whole house does. But I’m hardly ever here, so it never seemed worth the effort.”

  He followed her gaze up to the natural wood cabinets that had once been considered high quality but now desperately needed a sanding and a coat of stain, maybe some new hardware. The house needed a fresh start as much as he did. He glanced around the kitchen and grimaced, picturing Emma’s apartment with its state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances, cherry wood cabinets, and rich travertine tile floors. He’d caught the look on her face when she first saw this place, downright depressing in comparison. He could only imagine what was going through her mind.

  “Hmm.” She turned back to him. “It definitely could use a woman’s touch.”

  A smile teased his mouth—something else that had been happening a lot whenever she was around. “Is that an offer?”

  She shrugged. “Just an observation.”

  “Well, I would have to agree with you on that.” He rubbed his hands together. “So, grand tour. Next stop, living room.”

  He led her through the doorway toward the front of the house where his parents’ garish matching brown plaid sofa and loveseat formed an L-shaped seating area. A wooden coffee table sat on a worn brown area rug, and a pair of brass floor lamps provided the only lighting. She moved past the horrific 1970’s furniture and approached the fireplace which was dramatically nestled in a rustic stone wall with a slab of slate for a mantle and another for a hearth beneath it. Half a dozen fishing trophies adorned the mantle and a mounted striped bass hung on the wall above.

  “This is nice,” she said. She ran her fingers along the mantle and cringed at the line she created in the dust.

  “You’re just being polite.” He swept away some more of the dust. “God, this is embarrassing.”

  “No,” she said, and her nonjudgmental tone convinced him she meant it. “It just needs a good cleaning. This fireplace is gorgeous.”

  “Honestly, I don’t even know if it functions anymore. I should probably have it checked out.”

  “You should. It’d be a shame not to use it.”

  There was that damned smile again, the one he had no power to fight in her presence. Her voice was so sweet and encouraging, he’d do anything she suggested. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She leaned toward the mantle for a closer look. “Your dad’s trophies?”

  “Those are mine and Kevin’s from the junior fishing tournaments they used to have out here every summer. I think there are more of them up in the attic.”

  She moved to the wall near the stairs—a wall covered with family photos—and focused on the wedding portrait in the center, taken on the front steps of a small, modest church. “Your parents?”

  “Yup. Good ol’ Ted and Katherine Quinn.”

  “Your mom was beautiful,” she said softly.

  Funny. He’d been thinking the same thing about Emma all morning, and he’d been damned tempted to tell her so, over and over. But that would be straying into dangerous territory again, so he hadn’t.

  “Thank you,” he replied, and examined the photo, one he’d seen thousands of times but never really looked at. Katherine Quinn was a simple but pretty woman who’d worn a high-waisted gown on her wedding day, free of lace and beading or any other decoration. She held an understated bouquet of daisies and wore a matching daisy garland in her hair. Uncomplicated yet elegant, just like the woman herself.

  A beam of admiration graced Emma’s face as she leaned in closer. “You look just like your dad.”

  He’d heard it often over the years and he knew it was true, but somehow, hearing the words from Emma gave them more meaning.

  She gazed at the wall of photos several moments longer, genuinely interested in his family, his childhood memories, for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. For himself, he’d tarnished those memories years ago. But he saw a yearning in Emma’s eyes, the longing for a future like the past he could never bring back. Happiness and stability—family. The kind of things he didn’t deserve, things he’d never be capable of giving someone else.

  She turned to face him where he leaned against the banister, and he pointed past the staircase. “Dining room through there.” He tipped his head toward the steps. “And up there’s where the magic happens.”

  Her mouth fell open at his ridiculous attempt at a joke, though thankfully she seemed more amused than offended. Which only made him want her more, if that was even possible.

  “Kidding,” he said with a laugh. Anything to derail his current train of thought. “Just kidding. I’ve never actually brought a woman here.”

  “Really?” she asked with a note of incredulity.

  He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  Doubt still lingered in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she should trust his word, and he couldn’t blame her. Surely, he’d have his pick of women who’d love to keep him company at his beach house in the Hamptons, right? For the most part, that was true. But he hadn’t wanted anyone’s company here until now.

  “So you grew up here?” she asked, apparently also an expert subject-changer.

  “Summers mostly. We had a ‘real’ house in Northport, but my dad wanted a place to go fishing. He had a chance to buy this land when he was fairly young, so he grabbed it. Built the place all by himself right after he met my mom, as sort of a vacation cottage they could share. That’s why I’m not really in a hurry to sell it, even though I hardly ever use it.”

  As long as he had any say in the matter, the house would remain as a testament to the love his dad had for his mom.

  “What about your brother?” Emma asked.

  “Kevin? He comes out once in a while, but he’s in grad school in the city, plays shows with his band most weekends. There’s not enough going on out here for him. The house has always been pretty much mine, ever since my dad went into the retirement home.” Jake clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s the whole place. Let’s see if we’ve got any running water.”

  He returned to the kitchen and Emma followed. He reached for the faucet at the sink, which let out an ear-splitting squeal as he turned the handle. The faucet sputtered and sprayed a splash of rust-colored water in every direction.

  “Shit.” He quickly shut the valve again and grabbed a handful of old rags from under the sink to clean up the mess. “Looks like I’ve got some pipes to fix.” Just what he needed.

  She brushed away the water that had splashed on her arm. The slightest grin graced her lips. “Interesting choice of words.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “This should only take a few minutes.”

  “I’ll be out on the deck,” she said and headed for the back door. “I could use some sun.”

  He almost stopped her from going outside, but he was certain no one had followed them on the ride out from the city. He’d made sure of it. Out here, she’d be safe.

  He quickly powered through the sink repair and tightened the washer on the faucet for good measure, then glanced out the window toward the bay to check on her.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  He’d sworn not to take his eyes off her, but somehow he’d missed her slipping out of her sundress and settling on the pier in a little blue bikini with her slim legs dangling into the water below. He’d promised to control himself, but he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He’d thought it would be easy here in the serenity of his parents’ house to pretend he was the perfect gentleman, as his dad had always been with his mom. Considering the current situation, he had no choice, and Emma deserved nothing less. But damn if she wasn’t making it nearly impossible.

  She held her face toward the sky, letting the midday sun cast a glow over her porcelain skin. Her hair cascaded down her back in long, soft waves that would glide across his chest like silk.

  “Screw it,” he grumbled. He yanked his T-s
hirt over his head and headed outside.

  “You don’t play fair,” he said as he sat next to her and dropped his feet into the water. She responded with a sniffle that sounded like she was fighting back tears. His heart nearly stopped. “Hey.” With a hand on her shoulder, he gently eased her to face him. “What’s wrong?”

  She sniffed again, brushed a drop of moisture off her cheek, and turned to face him more fully. Her breath hitched when she caught a glimpse of his bare chest. “Talk about not playing fair.”

  He swept her hair over her shoulder and wiped a second drop from her skin, cursing himself for stripping off his clothes while she was out here alone, crying. Tears were not something he handled well, and for some reason hers hit him harder than anyone else’s ever had. Harder now than they had when he’d first seen them, back after her fiancé died.

  “What happened to the envelope with the lilacs in it?” she asked. “Have you heard back from the lab yet?”

  “Nothing yet. It could be a while before they have anything.” It wasn’t a lie. The real-life labs didn’t move as quickly as the ones on TV and in the movies.

  And what would they find? Fingerprints were unlikely. They might get lucky with some form of DNA, perhaps a stray strand of hair. But chances were the envelope would give them nothing to identify its sender. He wanted to get answers for her so badly, but once again, there was little he could do to reassure her.

  “You could stay out here,” he suggested. “The house is empty. No one would know you’re here. You’d be safe.”

  Her eyes widened. “With you?”

  “Well, I have to get back to work so I can catch this guy.” He should’ve been working the case today, but Mack had supported his last-minute plan to get Emma the hell out of town and had assured him his colleagues had it covered.

  “Then, no,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “You’d be in the city and I’d be here alone with no security. I’d feel better in my own apartment.”

  He could definitely keep a closer eye on her if she were in the city. Even closer if…

  “Then let me stay at your place,” he said. She stiffened at his words, straightening her spine as she prepared to argue. He held up a hand. “Just think about it. Please.”

  She sat staring quietly out at the bay for a long moment, so he let it go. For now.

  She leaned against his shoulder. “It’s beautiful here.”

  He closed his eyes in frustration. Screw it. Again. “Yes, it is,” he whispered as he draped his arm around her. “Especially with you here.”

  “How are your pipes?” she asked with an obviously forced grin.

  She was trying to lighten the mood. As much as he loved her attempt to be playful, the inappropriate thoughts running through his head tortured him. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be this close, touching her, testing his own determination to keep things professional. But he couldn’t help himself. “An easy fix,” he replied, giving her a squeeze, “once I didn’t have anyone distracting me.”

  She chuckled, unraveling his control even further.

  “I love that sound,” he said. “It’d be nice to hear it more often.” There were a few other sounds he’d like to elicit from her, as well.

  “Okay,” she said, shifting against his leg to face him again, “explain to me how no one has snatched you up yet.”

  “I don’t think I have an answer for that. I’m thirty years old, I have an awesome job, I make a decent living, and I have no one to answer to. Life is good.” He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the right woman to come along.”

  She squinted at him, her face riddled with suspicion. “Smooth, Detective. Very smooth. You really know how to sweet talk a girl.”

  He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I don’t do sweet talk, Emma.”

  She settled back against him. With every one of her musical laughs, every whiff of her perfume, every touch of her velvety skin, keeping things professional seemed more of an impossibility.

  Soon they went back inside, where they fell into an easy rapport, playing house together. He did some repair work while she found cleaning supplies and freshened up the kitchen and bathrooms, even though he’d tried to stop her. He’d brought her here to keep an eye on her, not to have her clean his house. But they worked well as a team, just as his mom and dad had when they’d opened up the place every spring, getting things done and sharing each other’s company.

  This would never be the norm for Jake—not with Emma, or anyone else. After this case was over, another case would come along, and as long as he remained a detective with the New York City Police Department, lazy days sharing the company of a beautiful woman would be a rare occurrence. He couldn’t promise someone the comfortable silences, the unspoken understandings, the shared goals his parents had, and his gut told him Emma wanted all of that and more. She’d been engaged, for Christ’s sake. He’d never even dated anyone for more than a couple of months. Sometimes he thought he hadn’t inherited that part of his parents’ DNA.

  “Getting hungry?” he asked as he cautiously twisted the handle on the newly-repaired faucet to wash his hands. “There’s a great seafood restaurant not far from here. Everything’s fresh from the bay.”

  “Sounds good.” She pushed herself up to sit on the countertop. “Thank you for today. You’ve done a wonderful job getting my mind off things.”

  He wiped his hands on a clean rag. “Fixing up a rundown shack is great for that.”

  “Apparently, it is.” Her smile was back, though not as bright as he would’ve liked it to be. “I’m actually having fun.”

  “Oh, is that right?” he said as he moved in front of her. “Scrubbing my toilets is your idea of fun? You really need to get out more.”

  “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

  “Really? Well, it may be true, but there are much more exciting things you could be doing than watching me pull down window boards and fix my sink.”

  “Like what?” She leaned toward him with her fingers curled around the edge of the countertop. Her eyes held a hint of a challenge that caught him off guard. One for which he was no match.

  He planted his hands on either side of her on the countertop, and she didn’t move away. The electricity that had surged between them so many times shot through him once again. “I can think of a lot of things.” He ran a hand up her arm, slipped her loosely braided hair in front of her shoulder, and tugged at the elastic band holding the ends. Her curls fell free as he shook out the twist. “That’s better.”

  Her eyes remained fixed on his, with the same glimmer of desire that had been there last night, right before he’d lost control and kissed her. He was so close, close enough to glimpse the rise and fall of her chest as her breath quickened the more he leaned in. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and gently pressed his mouth over hers.

  This kiss was nothing like the one he’d subjected her to last night, although she hadn’t seemed to mind it. No, this was different. Her innocent vanilla-rose scent surrounded him like a tender embrace. Her lips moved under his in a tentative push and pull that was so new to him he didn’t know how to handle it. All he could do was stand there, barely connected with her on a physical level but completely joined in some other, foreign way.

  And then she parted her lips to welcome him in.

  The glide of her tongue over his was enough to bring back all those lustful thoughts, enough to send the blood rushing from his head to areas that more urgently needed it. She gripped his waist, pulling him to her. This, he could work with. This was territory with which he was much more familiar. It was safer this way, keeping things primal, acting on instinct rather than anything vaguely resembling emotion.

  Her elbow bumped the metal carafe of the coffeemaker, sending it tumbling into the sink with a loud clang, snapping him out of his delusion
s.

  “Shit,” he uttered, pulling away. His gaze settled on hers, and he blew out a frustrated breath. “We can’t do this,” he said, more for his own benefit than hers. “I really want to, believe me, but we can’t.” Why did he need to keep reminding himself? He shoved his fingers through his hair. “This is such a damned mess.”

  “Sometimes messy can be fun.” She gripped his shirt in an attempt to bring him back to her. “We’re adults, right? Unattached. Consenting. Can’t we just have fun?”

  Something about the way she said it felt wrong, as though she was aiming for some sort of sexy bravado she hoped would impress him. She couldn’t possibly mean what she was saying. He pried her fingers from his shirt and stepped back. “Normally, I’d be perfectly happy with that, but I’m really not in a position to just have fun with you. You’re involved in a case. Besides, I’ve had my share of meaningless sex with women I hardly knew, and I don’t want to do that with you.”

  Her shoulders slumped in obvious disappointment, which was probably the best outcome. He’d be the first to admit he’d behaved like a dick over the last few years, spending time only with women who didn’t want his number any more than he wanted to give it to them. A few hours in the sack and they’d be on their way, forgotten until the next horrendous crime scene sent him looking for another…connection.

  That was all this was, right? Some misplaced desire to feel alive and wanted, if only for a little while?

  Deep down, he could tell Emma wanted more than that, no matter what she was trying to make him believe. If she let a man into her bed, on a certain level it would mean love, commitment, and a bunch of other things he couldn’t ever promise her. Which was why she’d never want him, once she realized that.

  She came from a world of fairy tales, mansions, and country clubs. Family inheritances that consisted of way more than a crappy fishing shack on the North Shore. Maybe if he solved this case and landed that big promotion, things could be different. But if he kept this up, that promotion was unlikely.