Dare to Love (15 page)

“I made a mistake,” she finally said softly. “A big one. He blamed me. He told me either I give up being a cop or he'd leave.”

“The bastard,” Doug said. He didn't realize how forcefully he'd said the word until she glanced up and smiled at him.

How could any man who'd had this woman have left her? he wondered. How could he have left that damn smile?

Andrea watched the expressions chase themselves across Doug's face. Just knowing he was on her side made her feel better.

“How come you've never married?” she asked. It was something that she'd been wondering about a lot lately.

Doug shrugged, running his index finger up and down the stem of his wineglass. “It never seemed like the thing to do.”

His vague answer frustrated her.

“Haven't you ever been in love?”

He grinned at her over his glass. “What is this, twenty questions?”

Andrea gave up. He wasn't going to answer her. She'd had enough experience as his mentor to know that Doug Avery was a master at prevarication.

Doug knew he'd disappointed her. He set out to be his most charming as they ordered lobster for dinner and laughed over his bungled attempts to eat it. He never should have asked those questions about her personal life. He had no business courting confidences he wasn't going to return. He was just going to have to find some other way to reach her.

“You going to invite me in for coffee?” he asked as he walked her to the door of her apartment later that evening.

“You don't drink coffee.”

He'd forgotten that he'd told her that the morning after the tornado.

“I know.”

He trailed his fingers up her forearm as she reached to unlock her door.

“No, Doug.”

She opened her door just enough for her to slip inside. Doug stopped her as soon as he realized that that was just what she intended to do. He pulled her against him, fitting her thighs in between his, molding her breasts to his chest. He lowered his mouth to hers before she could work up another protest.

Her response was instantaneous and hot, just like the last time he'd held her. She met him thrust for thrust, as if she'd been waiting all night for him to touch her, as if she hadn't just rejected him seconds before. She gave him a taste of the passion he suspected she was keeping bottled up tightly inside herself, and Doug knew that he was in danger of becoming an addict again. But this time he wasn't so sure about his chances of drying out.

And then, just as he was about to take her in to her bed, to finish what they had started two months ago, he found himself standing alone at her door. She'd pushed away from him so fast he'd hardly known what was happening. She was inside before he could figure out a way to get her back in his arms. He heard her dead bolt click and knew that he'd had all of her he was going to get that night.
Damn!

* * *

D
OUG SOUGHT
J
EREMY OUT
on the playground that next Monday. DARE officers were encouraged to mingle with the kids during their lunch and recess times, and Jeremy was one kid Doug was becoming more and more eager to mingle with.

“How about a little one-on-one?” Doug asked, bouncing a basketball toward the kid.

Jeremy looked at him out of eyes that were cynical enough to belong to a fifty-year-old man. He didn't even bother to comment. He just turned and walked away.

Doug followed him.

“Hey. I asked you a question. You didn't answer,” he said, falling in step with the boy. The basketball was lodged between his forearm and his side.

“
I
didn't ask for no do-goodin', man. Lay off.”

“Yeah. I guess you didn't.”

Doug continued to walk beside the boy, hoping the kid would say something. Anything. Even cussing him out would be better than this wall of silence.

“You haven't done any of your reports,” Doug finally said. If the kid wasn't going to talk, he would do what he could to get a rise out of him. He saw too much of himself in Jeremy to just let the kid slip away.

“Get real, man. Like some damn report's gonna make any difference.”

“It could.” Doug cursed himself for sounding like a cop.

“Yeah, and I could join the Boy Scouts if I wanted to, right?”

The bell rang, signaling the end of recess, and Jeremy took off like a shot, heading toward the school. But even then, Doug noticed that he was the last one to go inside. The kid always kept his back covered. If he was last in line, there was no one behind him, no one who could be stabbing him. Doug nodded his head. He understood. He was always last in a line himself.

Andrea watched Doug from across the playground. She saw him approach Jeremy, saw Jeremy turn away and saw Doug go after him. She held her breath, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing. Doug was reaching out, on his own, without being required to do so.

She watched as the man and the boy walked together across the field, their hands in their pockets. And her heart split in two when Jeremy turned and ran away from Doug.

And that's when Andrea knew for certain that she was irrevocably in love with Doug Avery. It tore her up to think of him risking his heart and being rejected. She wanted to wring that boy's neck. For the first time in four years, Andrea's kids weren't coming first.

But, somehow, they were going to have to be enough. Because just as Andrea knew she loved Doug, she knew she couldn't handle the responsibility of that love.

* * *

A
NDREA'S PHONE RANG
late the following Friday night. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, especially not her mother. She reached for the receiver after the eighth ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

She sat up. Doug? Why was he calling her? “Is something wrong?”

“I need your help.”

“Sure. What can I do for you?”

“I'm going to Stan's house tomorrow night for dinner. I need you to come with me.”

Andrea wanted to say yes, and the word almost slipped out.

“Why?”

“Because if you don't, they're going to ask Myra's sister to make up a fourth.”

Andrea told herself she couldn't go. There just wasn't any point.

“Who's Myra?”

“Stan's wife. Ever met her?”

She smiled at his aggrieved tone, curling her toes underneath the covers. “Nope. I've only met Stan once.”

“Myra's a real sweet woman, she's a good wife, but she's about as meek as they come. Except for her sister, of course. She's even worse.”

“You've met Myra's sister?”

“Twice. And I scared her to death both times.”

Andrea grinned again. “I can see your dilemma. Why not just make up some excuse not to go?”

Doug grunted, sounding frustrated. “I can't do that to Stan.”

His response surprised her. It sounded like he had some kind of commitment to Stan Ingersoll other than just a former working relationship. She hadn't thought Doug had ties with anyone.

“Why not?”

“Because he asked me to come, that's why. Please say you'll come, Andrea. It's only dinner.”

“Okay. I'll come.”

Maybe, as Doug's training officer, she should observe his relationship with the man who inspired such fierce loyalty in him. And maybe she was just too weak to say no.

* * *

“S
TAN COMES ON
a little gruff at times, but he's really a good guy,” Doug said the next evening as they approached the door of Stan's Tudor-style, two-story house.

“Like someone else I know?”

Doug looked down at her, taking in the grin that was spreading across her face, appreciating the figure-molding bodysuit she had on underneath her thigh-length jacket. She was dressed in his favorite color, all black, and it looked great against her soft white skin and perky blond hair. He figured he was feeling good enough to let her comment pass.

Andrea liked Stan and Myra. They welcomed her into their home as if she was a visiting dignitary. And Doug they treated like a son.

“You gonna help me with all the ladies again this year, Doug?” Stan asked, spooning himself a second serving of potatoes.

“I'm always eager to take ladies off your hands, Stan, you know that,” Doug said with a cocky grin.

“You boys stop right now,” Myra piped up from her side of the table. “They helped several of the ladies at church unload their cars last year at the bazaar,” she explained to Andrea.

Andrea watched enviously as Myra attempted to send her husband a chastising look across the table. Somehow, by the time it reached Stan, it had changed into a smile that promised private retribution at a more appropriate time. They both looked like they were looking forward to it.

Doug leaned over the corner of the table. “You look gorgeous tonight,” he whispered in Andrea's ear.

Andrea blushed, thankful that her host and hostess were otherwise engaged. “Behave,” she said as sternly as she could manage under her breath.

“Doug tells me you gave him a hard time down at the Hetherington Hotel,” Stan said later that evening while they all nursed after-dinner coffee.

“Did he also tell you he fell asleep during my first session?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She'd teach Doug Avery to mess with her.

“Yep. He did at that. He also told me you did one hell of a good job getting him in shape to hit the schools. He was really sweating that one.”

Andrea sent Doug a surprised glance. He'd
talked
to Stan? She'd thought details about Doug Avery's life, his inner musings, were strictly off-limits.

“And if you say any more, Stan, my man, you'd best be taking your gun to bed with you tonight.”

Now that sounded more like the Doug she knew.

“So you guys've known each other a long time?” she asked Stan. She wasn't giving up yet.

“Ever since I stumbled on this punk in—”

“Long enough.” Doug cut him off, pushing away from the table. “It's getting late and I promised Andrea I'd have her home early,” he said stiffly.

Andrea thanked the Ingersolls for a wonderful evening and followed Doug out to his car. She was silent as he drove her home and left her with just a brief kiss. She couldn't help wondering what it was that Stan had been about to say—what it was Doug didn't want her to know. She wondered if she'd ever find out.

* * *

T
HE NEXT WEEKEND
Doug managed to talk Andrea into a drive-in movie. He congratulated himself on a near-victory. She was becoming easy. He'd be making love to her before the month was out.

The movie was billed as a drama and rated for teenage viewing, but the heat emanating from the screen had Doug squirming in his seat long before the film was over. Tom Cruise was gazing at the woman lying in his arms as if he could barely restrain himself from devouring her. Her look was innocent and hungry at the same time.

Andrea sat next to Doug, with a full two feet separating them, chewing on popcorn. Her eyes were riveted to the screen. She seemed indifferent to his presence in the car. So much for his near-victory.

Or so Doug thought. The first time she glanced his way, he figured she was just checking to see if he was enjoying the movie. The second time she could have been looking to see if he needed more popcorn. By the third time, it dawned on him that she wasn't as immune to him as she appeared.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her across the seat. He put his arm around her shoulders and moved his leg until it was flush with hers. His denim rasped against hers.

“Aren't we a little old for this?” she asked halfheartedly. Her eyes were still trained on the screen, but she didn't make any effort to move away from him.

Doug decided not to push his luck with an answer.

He turned his eyes back to the screen in front of him, but try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on the movie they'd come to see. He was too aware of the woman sitting next to him. She was wearing white jeans and a purple pullover sweater that outlined her full breasts to perfection. He ached to touch them.

She moved. Just a fraction of an inch. Just enough to rest the side of her hand against his thigh.

He tried to adjust his swelling penis into a less uncomfortable position.

She ran the tips of her fingers along the side of his thigh, so lightly he could barely feel the movement, and it was as if he'd had the breath knocked out of him. In answer, he trailed his fingers from her shoulder to her neck and up into her hair. He loved the way the strands of her hair slid through his fingers, almost like a caress.

Andrea's gaze was still glued to the screen, but she tilted her head, moving into his touch like a cat looking for a reason to purr.

Doug lowered his head to her neck, running his tongue along the side she'd exposed, nipping her gently just above her collarbone. She smelled like roses and woman. He reached down to unbutton the fastener at the top of his jeans, giving himself just a little more room.

Andrea still held the carton of popcorn on her lap, but she'd stopped eating. She was clutching it against her like it was all that held her together, all that held her apart from Doug.

He touched her breast, palming it gently, stroking it with the pad of his thumb. Her nipple hardened almost instantly. Andrea moaned, sliding down until her head rested against the back of the seat. Her eyes were still on the movie.

He turned in the seat, cupping her other breast. A torrent of liquid heat built up inside of him, uncontrollably, as his fantasies finally took form and shape. He'd waited too long for her. His body was done waiting.

Her lips parted as her breathing quickened and he leaned over, opening his mouth over hers, sliding his tongue inside of her. He'd lost all track of time, of space, of where they were. All that mattered now was his pulsing body and the release it craved. All he asked for was that Andrea need him as badly as he needed her.