Accidentally in Love (21 page)

Wrong wrong wrong.

It wasn’t just the way she looked that did it for him; it was the way she looked
at him,
the way she could be so strong and yet so soft at the same time. Maya was right: Ellie was pretty amazing once you got past all that lippy crap. The thing was, though, he loved the lippy crap; it was part of what made her so amazing.

They cut back behind the hotel and followed the sidewalk along the harbor, through the park, and around by the marina, where he made it about ten steps before reaching for her hand. Ellie didn’t hesitate, just threaded her fingers through his and smiled up at him.

“Wasn’t sure if that was allowed or not.”

“What?” he asked, shooting her a quick wink. “It’s a safety issue, that’s all. You never know when one of those sailboats is going to lose control and come careening toward us.”

“Right,” she laughed. “Because that’s what sailboats do; they careen.”

“Hey, you don’t know. It could happen.”

“I’m sure. Just because it’s never happened doesn’t mean it won’t, right?”

“Exactly.”

They walked awhile in silence, not because Brett didn’t have anything to say but because every time her thumb slid across his, so slow and soft, he had to remind himself how to breathe.

Clearing his throat, he tried to crush down some of the storm brewing in his gut.

“So we need to give some thought to what’ll happen with you after I leave. Hudak said she had some leads she was going to follow up on tonight, but if those don’t pan out, we need to have a plan.”

“What does Sergeant Schilling say?”

“Not much. He was really hoping this plan would work, that it’d either send Kurt packing or drive him so crazy that he’d make a big move and then we’d get him.”

When Ellie looked up at him, he tried to backtrack a little.

“I don’t mean Sarge wanted Kurt to do anything to you—just that he was hoping that with Hudak and me double-teaming you, we’d flush Kurt out faster. Instead, the little shit’s weaseled in deeper.”

“So what does that mean? He can’t spend the rest of his life like this.”

“Screw him,” Brett barked. “
You
can’t spend the rest of your life like this. He’s getting cocky with all the emails, so it can’t be much longer before he does something stupid and slips up.”

She nodded a little, though it couldn’t have been anything more than a knee-jerk reaction, because her eyes got wider and she tightened her grip on his hand.

“We’re going to get him, Ell.”

“I know.” She pushed her glasses up a little, then tipped her face up to his, her bare skin glowing under the light of the moon. “I just hope you get him before he gets to the doing something stupid part. The restraining order’s good to have, but it’s not going to be very useful if he shows up at my door. I could probably give him a couple good deep paper cuts with it, though, so I guess that’s something.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I know. But don’t you worry, Ponch, I’m taking all the necessary precautions, and I’m not going to do anything stupid. I was actually thinking of getting a dog. How about that?”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you said ‘dog’ like you were picturing a Chihuahua or something.”

“No, not a Chihuahua. A wiener dog—one of those short-haired ones—and I’d name him Chili and get him one of those jacket things that look like a bun.” When Brett didn’t respond, she nudged his elbow with hers and laughed. “Get it? He’d be a chili dog.”

“I got it.” There wasn’t anything funny about this. “If you’re going to get a dog, get a
real
dog. A lab or shepherd. Shit, get a rottweiler—that’ll keep people away from your house. Don’t waste your money on a goddamn rat.”

“Why are you getting mad about this?”

“I’m not!” And he didn’t give a shit that by barking that out, he’d just contradicted himself. “It doesn’t matter what you get if it’s not trained properly.”

“If it’s not—” She stopped walking for a second, tugging him to a stop, too, then nodded, her eyes round. “Oh, okay, I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The yelling thing. Carter explained it to me this morning.” On the move again, she lifted her free hand, palm out. “Whatever happens with Kurt, you have to know you’ve done everything you can—you’ve actually done more than you should have—so if you’ve got any of that caveman crap going on inside that head of yours, just forget it.”

Uh-huh. Like he could ever forget the way she’d looked that night, shivering on her porch next to Maya. Like he could ever forget that that son of a bitch had not only been in her house, he’d been in her bedroom, he’d been through her closet and her drawers. Like he could ever forget—

Wait. Caveman crap?

“What did Carter tell you?”

“About the yelling. You know, how if you can’t kick someone’s ass or rip someone’s head off, that you yell so you don’t feel so useless.”

“I don’t feel—”

“His word, not mine. And if that’s not it, then what? Why are you yelling at me about this?”

“I’m not…yelling.” Even he knew how stupid he sounded forcing each word out like that. So stupid, in fact, that he couldn’t do anything but offer a guilty half-grin. “Carter’s an idiot.”

“And yet…”

Shit, why did she have to smile at him like that, like she was daring him to prove Carter wrong? Now he was going to have fess up, and he wasn’t really ready to do that.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Truth?”

“It’s my preferred method, yeah.”

Letting go of her hand took some effort, but he finally managed it, then slowly made his way over to the nearest park bench and gripped the back of it for support. He was going to have to look at her when he said this, and if she so much as smiled at him, he was going to need something to stop him from buckling right there on the walkway.

“Carter’s right,” he finally said. “This whole thing’s making me crazy. I hate that I haven’t caught this prick. I hate that he follows you, that he takes pictures of you, that he’s been in your…”

Dropping his chin, Brett inhaled long and deep before forcing himself to continue.

“I hate that he’s done this to you before and nothing was ever done about it. I hate that I’ve never found the guy who hit you last year. I hate that you don’t trust anyone, and I really hate that you don’t trust me. I hate that I’m going to leave and that I can’t be here to protect you, and I hate that I know you don’t
need
me to stay here and protect you.”

He had to look away for a second to work up his nerve.

“And more than anything else, I really, really hate that I walked out of your house last week without kissing you.”

Spent, he stumbled around the bench and almost fell on his face before he managed to catch his balance and sit down, bent over a little with his elbows on his knees, his hands folded in front.

A second later, she slipped down beside him, but she sat up straight with her hands tucked under her thighs, her crossed feet swinging free just above the grass.

“That’s a whole lot of hate,” she said slowly. “D’you want to know what I hate?”

Chewing his lip, he tipped his head in scarcely a nod.

“I hate that I’m the cause of all that’s going on in there.” She slid her fingers up the back of his head and rested them on top. He didn’t mean to lean into her touch, but God, he loved it when she did that. “And I know I can’t help with all of it, but let me clear up a few things for you.”

He turned just enough that he could see her from the corner of his eye.

“If I didn’t trust you, I never would have let you into my room back there. And you can bet your ass I wouldn’t be sitting out here right now looking the way I do. You’re the only one who understands that about me, and you’re the only one I need to understand it. I feel safe with you—like I can let my guard down without feeling like less of a person for it—and that’s something I never thought I’d ever get back.”

She pulled her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them.

“I really hate that you’re leaving, and it’s got nothing to do with the fact that Kurt’s still out there. It’s because I can’t stand the thought of you leaving.” She sighed slowly. “But mostly, I really, really,
really
hate that you walked out of my house without kissing me. That’s one more ‘really’ than you, in case you’re keeping score.”

He gave up trying to smile at her when he realized she wasn’t trying, either.

“I know why you left,” she said. “Your priority is keeping me safe, and you won’t do anything that might compromise that.”

“I can’t, Ell. If he walks because I can’t keep it zipped…” Cursing over a harsh chuckle, Brett sat back. “It’s a good thing we didn’t find him that night, because I would’ve ripped his fuckin’ head off for making me leave you like that.”

“It’s okay,” she said, dashing the back of her hand across her cheek and forcing the worst smile he’d ever seen. “Really, it is.”

“The fuck it is,” he growled. “None of this is okay.”

“But somehow it has to be. I mean, let’s face it, Ponch: this thing between you and me wasn’t ever really supposed to happen. It was, like, a happy little accident.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, then curled up next to him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Unlike my last accident, which involved an air bag to the face and a trip to the ER.”

“Yeah, I guess this one’s a little better than that, huh?” Chuckling quietly, he pressed a slow kiss against her head. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why ‘Ponch’?”

“What?”

“It’s just weird. Baker was the blond one.”

“Sure.” She tipped her head up so she could look at him, her mouth curved into a teasing smirk. “And Baker was cute, but Ponch…he was the hot one.”

“The—” Brett choked over a snort. “Jeezus, Ellie.”

“You asked.” Laughing at his embarrassment, she just shrugged. “Anything else you want to know?”

“No! God, no.” Actually, yes, but any more answers like that and he was going to lose his freakin’ mind.

“Book ’em, Danno.”

—Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett,
Hawaii Five-0

From the moment Brett put his arm around her on the bench, Ellie refused to waste another second of the evening worrying about Kurt. The only thing that mattered was being right there with Brett, talking about nothing and everything, listening to the way his laughter rumbled up from deep in his chest, and doing everything she could to memorize how damn perfect it felt to have him touch her.

As if the sight of him in her hotel room hadn’t been enough to get her pulse hammering, the first brush of his hand against hers sent need exploding through her: the need to have so much more of him touching her, and the need to prolong it, to savor every last second they had together.

“Are you going to stay tonight?” It had taken her most of the walk back to get the question out, because she couldn’t decide if she was more afraid that he’d say no or that he’d say yes and she’d have to spend a night in hellish torment.

He was quiet for a few seconds before he finally nodded. “Yeah.”

Torment it was, then. Gloriously hellish torment. And for the life of her, she couldn’t stop smiling.

“What time’s your shift tomorrow?”

“I’m not going in; I took a personal day.”

“But—”

“I’m owed about a thousand, so I took one. It’s no big deal.”

“It is to me,” she said as they stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hall. “Thank you.”

His heated gaze lingered on her even after he unlocked the door and pushed it open for her. It was only then that he released her hand and put some distance between them.

“It’s safer if I just stay over here,” he chuckled, blowing out a low breath. “So tell me how this shopping thing works tomorrow.”

“It’s a little bit crazy, actually.” She explained about the appointments she’d set up with a few of her regular distributors, how excited she was to meet with a few of the new ones, and how she wouldn’t actually be buying anything, just taking notes and pictures, which she’d have to bring home and study so she could get the best selection while staying within her budget.

“And you like doing this?” he asked.

“Love it.”

“Okay.” Brett’s slow nod morphed into a firm head shake. “Yeah, this isn’t going to work. You need to go into that bedroom and lock the door. Now.”

“But—”

He stepped away as he spoke, bumping into the corner of the telephone table and the edge of the chair.

“I’m not even doing anything!” Ellie laughed.

“You don’t have to,” he said over a grin. “That’s the problem.”

“Seriously?”

“Yuh.” He couldn’t seem to decide what to do with himself; he went from stuffing his hands in his pockets to crossing his arms over his chest to lacing his fingers behind his neck, and then plunging them back into his pockets again. “It was bad enough out there, but in here…alone…God, Ell, you’re killin’ me.”

“I’m killing you?” she cried. “It ain’t exactly a cakewalk from where I’m standing either, you know.”

That earned her the whole smile, dimple and all, but neither one of them moved; they just stood there grinning at each other until Ellie finally sighed.

“We could pretend you’re not a cop tonight, that we’re just a normal couple doing what normal couples do.”

“Ellie…” His voice was quiet, his smile fading.

“Who’s going to find out?” For the love of God, she’d never had to try to convince a guy to have sex with her before. “It’s just you and me here, Ponch. No one else ever has to know.”

The last remnants of humor gone, he slumped back against the window ledge and wrapped both hands around the wood. “I’ll know.”

There was a part of her that had known he’d say that—a small part of her hated him for it, and a huge part of her loved him for it.

Shit.

Shaking her head, Ellie blew out a frustrated breath, smirked, and repeated what she’d said to him the day this whole crazy charade started.

“Wow. You really take this Dudley Do-Right thing seriously, don’t you?”

That eased some of the tension from his jaw, blew a bit of the storm from his eyes.

“Damn right,” he said. “Now, if you could get on board with this and just go to bed, that’d be a big help.”

“Fine. But can I at least use the bathroom first?”

“Make it quick.”

With the water running as cold as she could get it, she rinsed one of the washcloths and pressed it against her face and neck, but it didn’t help; nothing would at this point. Resigning herself to the fact, she finally gave up and headed back through the suite.

Brett hadn’t moved from where he was perched on the window ledge, but his gaze tracked her all the way across the room.

“Last chance,” she laughed. “No? Okaaaaay…g’night, then.” She stepped into the bedroom and turned to close the door, but he was right there. “Oh!”

Without a word, he took her face in one hand, slid the other one over her hip and across her backside so he could pull her up tight against him as he moved them backward, pinning her between his muscled hardness and the wall.

She thought this kiss would be slow and gradually build like the other ones, but she was wrong.

So very, very wrong.

The second his lips touched hers, the air exploded between them. There was nothing gentle or gradual about this; it was all frenzied desperation, hot, hard, and hungry. His mouth moved over hers, searching, tasting, pushing her to open, to meet his need with her own.

She’d never been kissed like this before, like not kissing her would kill him, and the only reason she recognized that was because she felt the same way; the only thing still giving her breath was the sound of her name as it ripped from his throat. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, holding him close as he nudged his thigh between hers and groaned.

When he broke away, everything she felt was reflected back at her in his eyes: emotion warring with lust, confusion with certainty, frustration with fiery determination.

Her pulse racing, her lips still tingling, she couldn’t help herself—she had to try to get closer yet. But there was no room, not so much as a breath of air between them. She tried to press herself against his leg, but he just growled low in his throat and held her tighter so she couldn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his lips barely a breath away from hers. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Bullshit,” she choked, struggling to catch her breath. “The only thing you shouldn’t have done was stop.”

Half-laughing, half-groaning, he set his hands against the wall on either side of her and lowered his head to her shoulder. “You’re not making this easy, you know.”

“And you’re surprised by that?” She slid her fingers over his head, knowing he’d lean into her touch the way she loved so much. “Have I ever made anything easy for you?”

No.” He lifted his face to hers, his eyes as soft as she’d ever seen them. “You never have.”

She might have felt bad about that except for the way he was smiling at her, so easily, so sure, as though he’d always smiled at her.

“What do we do now?” she asked, gently scraping her fingernails back against the side of his head. “And please don’t say—”

“Good night, Ellie.” He pulled her hands down and held them between his own for a long second. “If this door has a lock on it, please use it.
Please.
”

Before she could even open her mouth to respond or protest, he was gone, pulling the door closed between them and leaving her slumped against the wall.

She never did lock the door—not because she wanted to tempt him but because she knew if she went anywhere near the damn thing she’d just yank it open and walk right back out there to him.

Hands down it was the longest night of her life, and going by the amount of tossing and turning she could hear him doing out on the pullout, he didn’t fare much better. The only difference was that she rolled out of bed in the morning looking and feeling like crap and he looked just as good as he always did. Taking the mug he offered, she eyeballed his clothes and raised her brow in an unspoken question.

“I went down to the truck and raided my go bag.” When she arched her brow higher, he frowned. “You don’t keep a go bag in your car? Basic medical supplies, water, gear, nonperishables, toothbrush…no?”

“Not unless you count my stash of Swedish Berries and my Swiss Army knife as supplies,” she said, heading toward the bathroom with her coffee. “Are you ready to do some power shopping today?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. Can’t think of a single thing I’d hate more.”

Ellie was still laughing at him half an hour later as they headed out the door. She tried to convince him that he didn’t have to come with her, but she wasn’t going to lie; she was happy he did. If they only had a week left, she’d take as much of that week as she could, and she didn’t care if that was selfish.

And with their time as limited as it was, she was glad she’d booked herself into the fair for only the one day instead of all weekend. She asked at the desk about extending her stay in the hotel, but they were already overbooked, which Brett insisted was for the best.

He followed her to each of the appointments she’d set up with suppliers, and then around all the booths throughout the convention center, where she scooped up samples and business cards from any and all that looked even slightly interesting. She’d only ever done this with Regan, so it was both interesting and amusing to watch his reaction to different pieces; some things she really liked he was iffy on, and with some of the things she never would have looked twice at he almost knocked his head off nodding so hard—like the racks of glasses.

“Not a chance,” she said with a snort. “Women come into Pandora’s to find something that’ll make them feel sexy, and in all the years I’ve worked retail, that has never included glasses.”

“That’s only ’cause they’ve never seen you in yours.”

Ellie almost bought the whole rack right there and then.

For dinner he took her to a tiny vine-covered steak joint tucked between a parking garage and a Starbucks, and then they walked up to the Marble Slab for ice cream. They laughed, they argued, they talked about everything except the fact that he was leaving. It was always there, in everything they said, in everything they didn’t say, but Ellie wasn’t about to ruin a perfect night by mourning something they couldn’t have.

They had right then: that night, that weekend, that week. That was what mattered. And every time her eyes started to itch or the ache in her chest started to grow, he’d say something to make her laugh.

“I’ll be on nights tomorrow,” he said as he walked her into her house, “but before shift we could—”

“Sure.”

His smile started slowly. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Does it matter?” She tipped her head a little and shrugged. “In case I didn’t make it clear last night, Ponch, I’m up for pretty much anything when it comes to you.”

That made his smile widen, but he didn’t come any closer, didn’t make any move to kiss her good night, and when she started to step toward him, he almost tripped over his own feet trying to get out the door.

“Pick you up about nine,” he said, chuckling at his own clumsiness. “Lock up behind me.”

And then she was alone again, staring at another door separating them. This time she did lock it, but only after his truck disappeared down the road.

Brett had to give Ellie credit: almost the whole next day she kept a smile on her face, as though she’d applied it with her lipstick. It was some kind of cruel torture being with her and knowing that he could touch her, but only so much; he could kiss her, but not like he had in the hotel room.

That had been…holy shit…that was amazing. And stupid.

Besides the risk, he’d driven himself crazy all night imagining what it would have been like to learn every curve of her body, to find out where she liked to be touched and what would make her breathe his name. But it was more than that—more than wanting to spend days buried deep inside her, easing them both up to the edge of insanity before letting them fall.

It was all that, yeah, but holy shit, it was so much more, and he didn’t have the first freakin’ idea what the hell he was supposed to do about it. And now, as their hours sped by, the pressure was on to figure it out, to make this craziness make sense to both of them.

Or at least give her something to really smile about so she could stop faking it.

They were in his truck, heading back to her place, when his phone rang, bringing his time to figure it out to a screaming halt.

“Hale? Where you at?” Hudak’s tone was short, clipped, and since it was coming straight through the speakers in his truck, Ellie instantly picked up on that and turned worried eyes his way.

“We’re just heading to Ellie’s. What’s up?” He could only hope she caught on that he wasn’t alone.

“Oh.” Tone change; she got it. “Miss Palmer’s with you?”

“Yuh.”

“Okay, uh, listen: I know your shift doesn’t start for a couple more hours, but can you swing by the detachment after you drop her off?”

He got it.

“No problem. Be there in about ten.”

“And Miss Palmer? While I have you: I haven’t received any new emails from you for a couple days—does that mean he hasn’t sent any?”

“I haven’t checked my email since Friday morning,” Ellie said. “I’ll look when I get home and let you know.”

“Good. Thanks.”

The line went dead, and the radio kicked back on.

“So what does that mean?” Ellie asked. “Why would she want you to go in early?”

“Could be anything,” he said, forcing his shoulder into a shrug. “Or nothing more than they want me to take a shift this week, before I go. Tonight’s my last scheduled; then I start my four off, and then…”

Ellie lifted her chin in a half-nod, then turned to look out her side window.

“Would you please do me a favor?” she asked, her voice quiet but not in a good way.

“Course.”

She turned to look at him again, her eyes dull. “Don’t start lying to me now.”