Cops And...Lovers? (10 page)

Breaking the kiss,
Erin
moved away from him and stumbled back.

Nick let her go, dropping his arms to his sides. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Embarrassment flooded her as the realization of what had just happened hit her full force. She stared at him, taking in the tightly clenched jaw, the knowledge darkening his eyes, all the while painfully aware that her body wanted more.

"I shouldn't have done that—"

"I shouldn't have let it happen," she said simultaneously.

"I'm your superior, for God's sake." Turning away, he faced the window and stared down at the street below. "I know better than to—"

"We made a mistake,"
Erin
interjected. "We'll deal with it like adults."

His expression was hard when he turned back to her.

"Will we?"

"Yes." She was still breathless, could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers, the need crawling inside her.

"I was out of line," he said. "You were vulnerable—"

"I'm
not
vulnerable."

Lowering his head, Nick cursed. "This can't happen again."

"It won't," she assured him, but her mind was still floundering. "I was shaken up. Let's not make this any more complicated than it needs to be."

He shot her a stony look that told her he wasn't buying it. Then, turning abruptly, he started for the door. "Go to bed, McNeal. I'll send Mrs.
Thornsberry
to stay with you tonight."

Erin
wanted to argue, but she knew better. She didn't want Nick to come back. Not when her heart was still pounding and her lips tingled with the feel of his mouth against hers. Lowering herself to the sofa, she watched him walk out the door, wondering how in the world she was going to handle working for a man who made her lose control every time he touched her.

* * *

Nick had always prided himself on control. That's what made it so impossible to believe he'd just gone against every shred of intelligence he'd amassed over the last thirty-eight years, and kissed Erin McNeal. His deputy, for Pete's sake! A woman with a wild streak that ran right down the center of what was probably a very pretty back. What was the matter with him, reacting like an oversexed schoolboy, when he was grown man with a man's responsibilities?

But Nick knew that kiss wasn't the worst of it. He'd wanted her with the kind of urgency he hadn't felt for … too long to acknowledge. If she hadn't pulled away, he wouldn't have stopped. Not with one kiss. Not even with two. How the hell was he going to handle this?

"Damn you, Frank," he murmured.

Pausing at his truck, he risked a glance at the window of her second-floor apartment. The lights were still on. He was still aroused, and the frustration pounding in his groin annoyed him no end.

Gritting his teeth, he unlocked the truck door and slid inside. He'd have to be careful in the coming weeks. As much as he didn't want to admit it, maybe he was more vulnerable than he'd thought. Not emotionally, he assured himself, but physically. After all, a man's needs could be shoved aside for only so long. Nick needed female companionship.
Steph
would eventually get used to the idea of having a woman around. Maybe a woman would help fill the void in both their lives.

What Nick didn't need was Erin McNeal. Just because she made him hot around the collar didn't mean she was right for him. She was exactly the kind of woman he wouldn't bring into Stephanie's life. His little girl had already been hurt once by a reckless adult. He'd rip out his own heart before he'd let that happen again.

It struck him then that
Erin
was the first woman he'd kissed since Rita's death. That it hadn't been a chaste kiss disturbed him and made him realize he'd taken a step into yet uncharted territory.

Unexpectedly, the old, familiar pain stirred deep in his chest, the wound so newly healed that it still bled when probed. Nick rode the waves of pain, surprised by their force after three long years. The grief still cut him on occasion. Rita's death had taken something vital out of him, bits and pieces that could never be replaced. Nick had vowed the day he buried her that he would never again put himself through the agony of loving someone.

Shoving thoughts of Rita ruthlessly aside, he muttered an oath, his voice sounding low and rough in the silence of his truck. Erin McNeal was off-limits. Not only to protect himself, but to protect Stephanie. After what had happened today, Nick knew with the utter certainty of a man who'd already experienced hell that
Erin
would hurt them both if he allowed it. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter how much he liked the way she looked, or respected her as a police officer, he could never allow himself to care.

Slamming the truck into gear, he pulled onto the street and started for home. No, he assured himself, he didn't care about
Erin
. She didn't need him looking out for her. If she wanted to self-destruct, that was her business.

Hopefully, he would be able to talk Mrs.
Thornsberry
into sitting with her tonight. Nick knew it was a copout, but he wasn't up to it—even if
Erin
was one of his deputies. The fact of the matter was he wasn't the only one who hadn't been prepared for that kiss. He'd seen the shock on
Erin
's face as well. Another reason stacked on top of a dozen others to keep his distance. The more successful he was at avoiding her, he decided, the better off they'd both be in the long run.

Chapter 6

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E
rin
didn't want to think about the kiss. She didn't want to deal with the reality that in the instant Nick's mouth had been pressed against hers the world had melted away and nothing existed except the moment between them. The ramifications of that line of thinking were too dangerous—even for a risk taker like
herself
. To acknowledge that he'd been on her mind every waking hour since was to admit she was susceptible to him. That she'd wanted him to kiss her. That she wanted him to kiss her again.

She refused to believe any of those things.

Erin
figured she was getting pretty good at denial.

As she left the town limits and drove toward his house, she told herself the only reason she was going to Stephanie's party was for the little girl's sake. She might be a difficult child, but considering the hand she'd been dealt—namely the death of her mother and a devastating spinal injury—
Erin
couldn't blame her. She couldn't ignore her birthday.
Steph
needed every ounce of kindness the adults around her could give.

Erin
knew it would only make things worse if she alienated herself from Nick. He might have the wrong idea about her, and they might have different philosophies on police work and law enforcement in general. They'd definitely made a mistake with the embrace and that fateful kiss. But he was still her boss, and this job was too important to blow because of something as silly as a kiss. Come hell or high water, she was going to make it work.

Just because she'd barely seen him in the last week didn't mean that encounter had affected their professional relationship. It didn't mean he was avoiding her. Or that she couldn't look him in the eye. They were adults, she told herself for the hundredth time. They could handle this. Dammit, she could handle it, even if he couldn't.

Shoving thoughts of Nick aside, she looked down at the wrapped package on the passenger seat beside her and smiled. It had taken her most of the day yesterday—her day off—and a trip to
Chicago
, but she'd finally found the perfect gift for Stephanie. A veil of satisfaction settled over her; she couldn't wait to see that little girl smile.

Five minutes later, she pulled into the driveway and parked next to Nick's Suburban. Though it was early evening, she'd expected to see kids playing on the swing set or shooting baskets in the hoop by the garage. But the yard was deserted. Bandito grazed contentedly near the fence, swatting flies with a tail that was a little too long, a little too tangled. There were no laughing children. No games of hide-and-seek. No adults lounging in lawn chairs. Beside Nick's Suburban and Mrs.
Thornsberry's
old Buick, the only other car there was
Hector's
.

Lifting the package, she got out of the cruiser and made her way to the front door. She told herself she wasn't nervous about seeing Nick. She wasn't here to see him, though the fact that she would was inevitable. Still, the thought of facing him after the kiss they'd shared made her palms sweat.

She told herself it was silly to get nervous over a friendly embrace that had gotten out of hand. This was a kid's birthday party, for goodness sake.
Erin
was on her dinner hour and only had about forty-five minutes before she had to get back to her shift. Enough time, she mused, to give Stephanie her gift and grab that piece of cake Mrs.
Thornsberry
had promised. And maybe even show Nick she wasn't avoiding him—since that kiss obviously hadn't meant a thing to either of them.

Wiping her damp palms on her uniform slacks,
Erin
rang the bell. Her heart stopped dead in her chest when the man in question opened the door. She'd never seen Nick out of uniform, and the sight of him made her feel light-headed. It didn't surprise her that he looked even better in faded jeans. The black Polo shirt he wore made his eyes look darker. She wondered if he was one of those people whose eyes changed with their moods.

For several long seconds she stood silently, praying he didn't see the color she felt rising in her cheeks. "Hi," she said, hefting the package. "I wanted to bring this by."

"McNeal," he acknowledged finally, eyeing the package. "How's the head?"

"Still pretty hard."

He didn't smile, but
Erin
saw the flash of amusement in his dark eyes. "Good thing, I guess, all things considered."

The silence built for a moment. He made no move to invite her inside. Feeling awkward, she looked down at her boots.

"You were scheduled to work tonight," he said.

She'd tried to convince herself his decision to schedule her for work didn't have anything to do with the fact that he didn't want to see her. Of course, she wasn't at all concerned about that. Just because
Hector's
car was in the driveway didn't mean she should be invited to the party, too, did it?

"I'm on my dinner hour," she said quickly. "I've only got a few minutes." Not knowing what else to say or do, she shoved the package at him. "I wanted to make sure Stephanie got this."

He took the box. "Uh … thanks. I'll make sure she gets it."

"Great."

Erin
told herself she wasn't disappointed that he wasn't going to invite her inside. That she hadn't wanted to see Stephanie's eyes light up. Or see Nick smile. She'd only known them a little over a week. It wasn't like she was a friend he would invite to his daughter's birthday party. Still, the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach was acute.

"Oh,
Erin
!"

She jumped at the sound of Mrs.
Thornsberry's
voice, and watched the woman approach. "I'm so glad you came. I had to fight off Hector to save you a piece of cake. I hope you like German chocolate."

Nick frowned. "She's on duty,
Em
."

"For heaven's sake, there aren't any rules against police officers indulging in birthday cake while on duty." Mrs.
Thornsberry
smiled sweetly at
Erin
. "There's a big piece with your name on it in the kitchen."

Erin
returned the smile, torn between not wanting to irritate Nick and appeasing the nanny. She'd wanted to give Stephanie the gift herself, but he seemed adamantly opposed to her staying. "Thanks, Mrs.
Thornsberry
, but—"

"Nick, where are your manners?" the older woman scolded. "Aren't you going to invite her in?"

Nick shot the woman a dark look.

"For goodness sakes, she's got time for a piece of cake." Giving him an annoyed glance over her shoulder, Mrs.
Thornsberry
headed for the living room.

Erin
's discomfort grew. Nick obviously wasn't happy to see her. It was clear he didn't want her there. Glancing back at her cruiser, she took a step back. "I've got to get back—"

"It's all right." He opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Come on in."

"I didn't mean to intrude."

His gaze locked with hers.
Erin
felt stripped bare by the power behind it. She'd never had a difficult time with eye contact, but Nick's gaze was so intense she couldn't hold it.

"I figured we probably couldn't avoid each other much longer," he said in a low voice.

She looked anywhere but into those dark, dangerous eyes of his. "I wasn't—"

"Avoidance probably isn't a good strategy, anyway, considering we work together."

Heat suffused her cheeks. Something warm and jumpy fluttered in her chest when images of the kiss came to her unbidden. The feel of his mouth against hers. The way he'd wrapped her in his arms. The hardness of his body as he pulled her close.

She wanted to say something flippant, maybe just to prove to him that blasted kiss hadn't affected her in the least, but the power of speech seemed to have left her. She stepped past him, and every nerve ending in her body went on alert when the tangy essence of his aftershave curled around her brain. The memory of the kiss sharpened, expanded, until it filled her with a longing she wanted desperately to deny.

Nick motioned toward the hall. "I appreciate you bringing a gift. It wasn't necessary, but I'm sure
Steph
will like it."

Feeling breathless and off-kilter,
Erin
started down the hall, wishing she'd heeded her own common sense and brought the gift by when Nick wasn't home.

They reached the living room a moment later. Hector nodded a greeting from his place on the sofa. Mrs.
Thornsberry
looked on from the kitchen doorway.
Steph
sat in her wheelchair in the center of the room, surrounded by crumpled wrapping paper and assorted gifts.

"Hi,
Steph
,"
Erin
said. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

Her heart melted when the little girl smiled. Such a pretty smile. Too bad she didn't do it more often.

"Dad got me a new easel for sketching," she said. "Want to see my new pad?"

"Sure."
Erin
took the pad from her, feeling inept, since she didn't know a thing about sketching, and opened it to feel the texture of the paper. "Very nice. What do you sketch?"

"Sometimes I sketch Bandito. Sometimes my mom, but m not very good at faces, so I mostly just make stuff up. I'm pretty good at evening gowns and dresses, too."

"Ah, a budding clothes designer,"
Erin
said.

Pride jumped into the little girl's eyes, and her grin widened. "My dad says I'm going to give Liz Claiborne a run for her money."

"I don't doubt it."
Erin
handed her the sketch pad. "Maybe you could show me your drawings sometime."

"'Kay."

Mrs.
Thornsberry
took
Erin
's gift from Nick and set it on Stephanie's lap. The little girl picked up the box and shook it. "Sure is big."

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, Nick smiled at his daughter, the first genuine smile
Erin
had seen since she'd walked in.

"Have at it, honeybunch." His gaze met
Erin
's, the smile he'd given his daughter still flirting with his mouth.

He had one of the nicest smiles she'd ever seen. Too bad he didn't use it more often. Disconcerted that she'd noticed something she shouldn't have, she looked away.

Stephanie stripped the paper from the box.
Erin
watched, anticipation building in her chest. The little girl's hands stilled. The crackle of wrapping paper stopped abruptly. Dead silence fell over the room. Stephanie stared at the bright orange basketball, blinking as if someone had just played a cruel joke on her.

"It's a basketball," she said dully.

Erin
's stomach went into a slow roll. Praying her carefully chosen gift didn't turn into a negative experience for the girl, she stepped forward. "I saw the hoop above the garage door outside and thought you might like to start playing again."

The little girl stared at
Erin
, her blue eyes wide with the kind of hurt
Erin
knew too well. She'd seen that look before; she'd felt it in her own heart a hundred times in the last several months. She knew intimately the harsh realities of shock and pain and betrayal. Her heart cramped in her chest when those bottomless blue eyes filled with tears.

"I can't play basketball anymore," Stephanie said in a small voice. "My legs…"

"Oh, honey, you can,"
Erin
said gently. "You can take lessons if you want to. Disabled people play basketball and win marathons and do all sorts of fun things."

"I want to, but I can't." Stephanie looked at her father. "Why did she get this for me? I can't play anymore."

Erin
's breath jammed in her throat. The pain struck with such force that she couldn't breathe. All she could do was press her hand to her breast and pray the little girl would understand. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt this child who had already been hurt so brutally.

"Oh, my," Mrs.
Thornsberry
said. "
Steph
, honey, I'm sure
Erin
didn't mean—"

"I can't play!" the girl cried. "I don't want it."

"But you
can
play,
Steph
,"
Erin
said. "Honey, I'll teach you—"

"That's enough." Nick's voice cracked through the air like cold steel being snapped in half.

The words jerked
Erin
's gaze to his. His jaws were clamped tight, his hands clenched at his sides. He glared at her, his eyes as hard and infinitely cold as glacial ice.

She stared, vaguely aware that the room had become as quiet as a tomb. Hector gaped at her as if she'd just pulled out her pistol and shot the chandelier off the ceiling. Mrs.
Thornsberry
made a show of gathering gift wrap off the floor.