Guarded (34 page)

“But you left me.”

She pulled back only far enough to meet his gaze. Her arms stayed securely wrapped around his waist. “Everyone I’ve ever loved left me. My mother. My sisters. My parents. Even Cam.”

“I’m not them.”

“No, but when you were lying there in that hospital bed unconscious, I knew if you’d died, I’d never get over it. It was hard enough losing all of them. I couldn’t bear it if you had left me too.”

“And you left me
first
.” Realization had him hugging her tighter. “Shells, I can’t promise I’ll never die.”

“I know that. I
know
that. I just . . . panicked.”

“I can’t promise I’ll never die, but I can swear to never leave you.” Dev hugged her tighter, comforting her and himself. “You are all that matters. I want you in my life. You and Beau. You’re his mother. And you’re my world. As long as I live, I’m yours, if you’ll have me. I’ll even quit the force and move to Elkridge. Whatever it takes.”

“Oh, Dev. I don’t want you to move to Elkridge.” Tears brimmed on her lashes. “There’s nothing for a city boy in this little country town.”

“There’s you.”

She shook her head.

Dev’s heart shriveled. She didn’t want him. He’d come all this way, and she
still
didn’t want him. He was an asshole. Well, he’d be an asshole with dignity. Releasing her, he put a foot between them. The confusion and hurt on her face almost had him reaching for her again, but he didn’t. “I’d better go see if Jules is ready.”

“But you just said you wouldn’t leave me.” Shelley grabbed his arm, halting his exit. “What did I do?”

“You told me not to stay.” Now he was confused.

Shelley shook her head. “No, I said there’s nothing here for you. When the tigers go to the Tidewater Zoo, I’m going with them. Beau and me. I thought you knew that.”

Dev stared at her, hope ballooning in his chest. “You’re coming to Tidewater?”

“Once I find a place to live,” she said with a shrug.

“With me. You two can live with me.” He pulled her to him again. “Damn, I thought you were giving me the heave-ho.”

She squeezed him tighter. “No, I just suck at this. Give me a snake or a rabbit or cat or ferret, and I’m completely in my element. But people . . . they’ve always seemed so foreign to me.” She pressed her hands against his chest until he reluctantly released her. Her hands dropped, then came together. She twisted her fingers. “Suddenly I have a family again. I’m a foster mother to the most amazing little boy. My sister is back in my life. I thought my life was going really well. I’d convinced myself I didn’t need anything or anyone else. Then you poked your head in the door and I knew in that moment, my life would never be complete without you. I love you, Dev.”

Dev’s heart stopped and then galloped at her words. He stared into her beautiful face and was, as usual, dumbstruck. Shells didn’t let his stoicism stop her. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

Thank you, sweet baby Jesus!

Dev kissed her back. And kissed her. Her hands were everywhere. In his hair, on his chest. Dear God! Down his pants.

Not that his own hands were empty. They were cupped happily around her lush ass as he lifted her from the floor. Crossing the room in two strides, he propped her on the counter. Her jean-clad legs wrapped around his hips as he laid her back, swiping the phone and papers out of his way as he moved. “No skirt today?”

“Dr. Kessler’s not back yet. Still my rules for a little longer. Frack, I need to lock the door.”

She’d barely said the words, when he dashed to the door, flipped the lock in place, and was back nestled between her sexy thighs. The top button of her blue shirt was open, revealing her long neck. He bent her over. Ran his tongue from her collarbone to her ear and smiled when she quivered. “Say it again,” he whispered.

“Still my rules?”

He laughed and nipped her ear. “Tell me again that you love me. I want to hear you say it when you don’t have tears in your eyes or are afraid I’ll leave you.”

Dev pulled back, stared into her sapphire-colored eyes and waited.

She kissed his chin. “I love you.” She kissed his right cheek, said it again. Kissed his left cheek and said it a third time, “I love you, Dev.”

“I love you too.”

Then he jumped back and off of her, catching the ferret in midleap as she attempted to attack him. Again. “I swear, she keeps this up and I’m going to turn her into a toupee and give her to my Uncle Seamus.”

Laughing, Shelley swept the ferret into her arms. “Lucy, why did you attack Dev this time?”

Shelley’s eyes locked on the ferret’s, then she let out a laugh so hard, she almost dropped Lucy. To Dev’s shock, Shelley shoved the furry monster into his clumsy hands. Instead of biting him, as expected, Lucy curled up and went to sleep. All the while Shelley continued to laugh.

“What’s so damned funny?”

“She was welcoming you into the family. She saw us
hugging
and wanted in on the action.”

Dev frowned at the ferret, then at Shelley’s delighted face. “Yeah, well. From now on, when we want to
hug,
she stays locked in her cage in another room.”

T
HE
WHITE
SEQUINED
gown sparkled in the early evening sunlight. The June day had started off unbearably hot, but the evening cooled nicely. Just in time for the ocean-side wedding.

Shelley smiled at her sister and wasn’t surprised to see tears glitter on Jules’s lashes. Leaning in, Shelley kissed her older sister on the cheek and took her bouquet. Jules turned to face her groom. As the minister spoke of love and commitment, Shelley glanced at Dev.

Seated next to Beau in the front row, one hand thrown casually around the boy’s shoulders, he looked completely content. Then he turned those storm-gray eyes on her, and her breath caught.

It shouldn’t have surprised her to see his open adoration, but it did. And she reveled in it. This man loved
her
. Loved her so much, he’d been willing to sacrifice his career to stay with her in Elkridge, had she asked it of him.

She toyed with the wedding band on her left hand. And to think she’d been shocked when Jules had told her she and Seth got engaged after less than two months together. But it had been Shelley and Dev who had a quick, quiet ceremony on Valentine’s Day. They went from the courthouse to social services and applied to adopt Beau. They weren’t legally a family yet, but it wouldn’t be long.

The minister spoke of love and family. Shelley listened, her gaze drifting from her husband and child to her older sister. Shelley’s heart was so full of love and joy. Family was everything, and for once, Shelley wasn’t afraid of losing them.

She doubted Jules would be the only one in tears before long. Shelley had a secret she couldn’t wait to share with Jules. One she’d learned only hours earlier from a lovable if mangy-looking stray dog. Beau had brought it home from the beach with the intention of keeping it as a pet.

Something Shelley could hardly refuse when the dog Beau had dubbed Snoopy winged an image into her head. A black-and-white vision of a young woman sharing half her sandwich with him outside the Boxing Cat Café. A woman who bore a striking resemblance to her mother. And a distinctly unique triple-rose tattoo on her wrist.

Hannah was in Tidewater.

Read on for a sneak peek at the first Tidewater novel from Mary Behre

SPIRITED

Available now from Berkley Sensation

J
U
L
IANA
S
COTT
LOOPED
the strap of her black Prada clutch over her wrist and imagined scaling her apartment building in five-inch stiletto boots.

Where was a radioactive spider when you needed one?

The fire escape ladder dangled about seven feet up. She’d just have to jump for it. Or she could continue to stand there like some kind of crazily dressed prostitute turned damsel-in-distress at three in the morning. Someone might come along and help her; then again, the way her night was going, she’d probably end up a statistic. Or arrested.

But her heels were freaking five inches high. And she hated climbing, boots or not.

“Come on, Jules,” she sang to herself as she plowed her hand through the contents of the bag for the third time. How could she not have her keys? She might be directionally challenged but she never forgot them. Ever.

A nearby streetlight flickered off, then on again, casting a dull yellow glow.

She shuddered; goose bumps rushed up her arms but it wasn’t cold. That could only mean one thing: she wasn’t alone. She listened for whoever—or more likely,
what
ever—it was to make its presence known.

Nothing. Not a sound except the ocean waves washing against the sandy shore a block away. The gentle lapping water soothed her and a small, relieved sigh slipped from her lips.

“Who, whoooooo!”
A barred owl swooped low and she let out a small yelp of alarm.

Crazy bird.
Jules laughed softly at her own paranoia and rubbed her weary eyes. She hadn’t seen a ghost in six months. Why did she think she’d see one in Tidewater now?

She refocused on finding her keys. She shoved aside the bags of dried lavender and oregano she’d picked up from the herbalist. Skipped over the Waitress Red lipstick she’d bought for tonight’s party. Dug beneath her first prize blue ribbon. And came up empty.

She shook the purse. It felt oddly heavy, but it contained nothing else.

Even her cell phone was gone.

Dang it! Another fabulous blunder to add to an already freakish night.

How was she supposed to find her missing sisters if she couldn’t even find her flipping keys? Finding lost things . . . now
that
would be a gift! Instead she’d inherited the freakish ability to talk to the dead. Unless a dead person could tell her where she’d left her keys, or help her find her lost sisters, she considered it more of a
crift
—cursed gift. She shook her purse one last time.

Stupid ghosts.

She glared at the ladder’s twenty rusted stairs leading to her bedroom window. Hitching the purse strap up to her elbow, she heaved a sigh and jumped twice before her fingers connected with metal. The ladder lowered with a screech. The sound echoed against the brick as she stepped one precariously high-heeled foot on the first rung.

Man, tonight totally bites.

First, Mason Hart, that overgrown jock, tried to cop a feel at their college reunion. Now, she was wriggling up a fire escape in a skirt and bustier so tight, they squeezed all the breath from her body.

I’m burning this outfit tomorrow.

Finally on the second level, she pulled up the ladder behind her and latched it in place. Every other step, her boots snagged in the grooves of the metal deck. She started past her neighbor’s partially opened window when the goose bumps returned.

An incredible sense of anger and sadness swept over her. Someone else’s pain. The feelings smothered her sense of self and stole her breath. Bracing herself against the brick, she fought to erect the mental shields that she used to block out a spirit’s projected emotions.

She visualized gray castle walls rising around her, the same mental image she’d used since childhood. Castles were strong and safe . . . impenetrable. With her mental shields in place, her breathing eased and she rested against the wall.

Below, the street sat eerily quiet and dark. Even the owl stopped hooting. As far as she could see she was alone, but her senses screamed she had company.

Minutes ticked past and nothing moved. A warm ocean breeze carried the sound of the rushing shore. Otherwise, silence.

Home and her bed waited less than a foot away.

“Help me . . . please . . .”

The high-pitched voice grated against her senses.

“Not now,” Jules whispered, wishing she could just ignore the girly-sounding disembodied voice.

And a fresh one at that. New specters hadn’t yet mastered the ability to communicate without rubbing against the corporeal plane. The effect on her body was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Unlike the dead, living people didn’t make her skin crawl just by speaking.

Jules tried to lift her window. It didn’t budge. She eyed the lock but it was open. Why wouldn’t the darn thing move?

“I . . . need . . . you . . .”

Frustration tinged with a healthy dose of fear whipped through her. She shoved at the window again. It still didn’t move. Rubbing at her goose bump–covered arms, she turned to her neighbor’s window. It was open and dark inside. She dismissed the fleeting thought. She’d sooner scale down the building naked than . . .

Her mind muddled. She shook her head to clear it. The scent of sandalwood filled her. Warmth suffused her bones and she couldn’t resist the pull to the open window.

The aroma intensified. Never before had anything smelled so wonderful. A warm, gooey, just-ate-the-best-caramel-brownies-ever feeling filled her. She had to get closer. The urge to get inside was overpowering.

The scent wafted through the open window and her body tingled, needing to get closer. The leather skirt hugged her thighs too tightly as she tried to step through. Instead, she shifted and pushed through headfirst. Each movement dreamlike. Jules’s belly on the sill and her booted feet still outside, the scent drew her in until she tumbled to the floor. Breaking the trance, the specter whispered one word.

“Finally.”

*   *   *

W
AS HE DREAMING
? Detective Seth English of the Tidewater Police Department rubbed his eyes. Nope, no question about it. Someone
was
breaking into his apartment.

Criminals are just stupid.

Of all the nights to leave his window open, Seth had to pick tonight. He damned his recent bout of insomnia. Stress always did that to him. The sound of the ocean usually soothed him. Not tonight. His much-needed peace was shattered by a felony in progress.

He sat up. The blanket fell to his waist. Sliding noiselessly out of bed, he grabbed his gun and handcuffs from the nightstand. He slipped into the shadowed corner and waited.

Damn. The last thing he needed was a trip downtown and a night full of paperwork. Lately, it seemed to be one thing after another: his daughter’s engagement, his new partner, their unsolvable case . . . and now this.

Could his life get any more complicated without his head actually imploding?

The window frame groaned then gave another inch.

The streetlamp outside cast her in silhouette. And she was definitely a she. Delicate feminine fingers slipped into the opening and wrapped around the frame, pushing the window slowly upward.

Seth watched, barely breathing, as she wriggled through the window. When she’d made it mostly through, her hands flew wide in front of her as if searching for leverage. Then she tumbled to the floor with a grunt.

“Stay down!” Lunging forward, he planted a knee in her back. He pressed the gun into the base of her skull. His other hand twisted each of her wrists behind her and cuffed them together.

“Ouch! Stop!” she screamed. “Help! Police!”

“I
am
the police.” He ran his finger along her wrists to ensure he hadn’t snapped the cuffs too tight. “You’re fine.”

In the dim light, Seth reached down to help her up. He couldn’t very well leave her on the floor, regardless of the temptation. Fumbling in the dark, his hand brushed the warm satin skin of her bared midriff.

“Get your hands off me! Somebody! Help me!” She shrieked a banshee’s wail next to his ear.

“What the hell are you yelling for?” He tugged her over to the bed and shoved her down.

She thrashed and screamed incomprehensibly.

“Enough! Or I’ll charge you with disturbing the peace too.” When she kept shrieking, he added, “
You
broke into my place, ruining the first night’s sleep I’ve had in a week. I don’t need you bursting my eardrum too. Now be quiet. I’m getting the light.”

Her cries instantly died in the shock of blinding light.

When Seth’s eyes focused, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

The hooker—she had to be a hooker—wore knee-high black patent leather stiletto boots, a black miniskirt that could have doubled as a headband, and a leather bustier. Her legs were long and lean and covered in fishnet stockings. And the swell of her breasts was, in a word . . . succulent. Her short, straight midnight-colored hair was too dark to be real. The woman personified sex, as was her obvious intention. But her green eyes made his pulse thrum.

They were astonishing, as if emeralds were cut and layered around the pupils. The most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, in spite of the appallingly thick black eyeliner surrounding them.

And strawberries? God, she smelled like
strawberries.
His mouth actually watered.

Attracted to a hooker. I’ve sunk so low.

Chalking it up to his sexual drought, he focused on dealing with the handcuffed home invader thrashing around on his bed. He tried to shove his sidearm into his shoulder holster before remembering he was shirtless. Stomping over to the bedside table, he yanked open the drawer and dropped the gun in.

He hoped she’d think the heat creeping up his cheeks was from anger instead of embarrassment. Folding his arms across his chest, he asked, “Do you have any idea where you are?”

*   *   *

J
ULES
SAT
DUMBFOUNDED
in the bedroom of a Greek god. He had espresso brown eyes, curly black hair, a long nose that had probably been broken a time or two, and a sexy, dimpled chin. His tan, muscular body was covered by a chest full of springy hair that begged to be touched. Dang! He even smelled good, like soap and the salty Tidewater air.

Ohmigawd, he’s a walking condom commercial.

He scowled at her, waiting for an answer. Although to save her life she couldn’t think of anything. Where
was
she? More important, what was she doing here? Then a mental switch flipped and it all became clear.

That freaking ghost!
Jules couldn’t very well tell a cop she stumbled into his apartment because a ghost made her do it. He’d haul her off to the loony bin.

“Well.” Jules fidgeted against the cuffs and tried to adjust to a more dignified position on the bed. So not happening. “No, not really. I was trying to go home but, uh . . . locked myself out.”

He arched an eyebrow at her but didn’t say anything.

“I know this looks bad but just ask Big Jim. He’ll vouch for me.”

“And Big Jim? Who’s that, your pimp?”

“What? No!” She laughed and shook her head at the absurd thought. “He’s my dad.”

“Is that what they’re calling them these days?” He scoffed but didn’t give her time to respond. “There’s no one named Big Jim in this building. Try again, the truth this time.”

“Ernie Ward!
Ernie
is my dad.”

“I thought his name was Jim.” He shook his head. He made a sound like a buzzer. “Wrong again. I’ve known Ernie for years but I’ve never seen you before. Want to try another name, honey?”

His biceps flexed, arms still folded across his chest, as if he wanted to move but barely restrained himself. The sight was distracting. He wasn’t exactly muscle-bound, just finely honed. He stood fierce and masculine like an ancient warrior. Intimidating but ruthlessly sexy. It made her want to . . . She shook herself inwardly.

Why couldn’t she think straight? This so wasn’t like her. She didn’t go gooey over any guy, regardless of how ruggedly handsome. But her heart pounded at an erratic pace and she’d once again lost the thread of the conversation. What had he just asked?

Think, Jules!
Ignore the instant pull of pointless physical attraction. It had never done her any favors in the past anyway.
Something about him must be repellent. Find it!

She looked at him again, this time skating her gaze past his naked chest and sexy arms and moving down.

Oh, it couldn’t be.

She blinked, astonished.

He wore bright yellow pajama pants, covered in
lambs.

Resisting the urge to laugh, she latched onto righteous indignation and straightened her shoulders. This condescending jerk treated her like a criminal, handcuffed her, and called her a liar. Oh, he was going down.

“My name’s Jules. Not
honey
,” she snapped. “And Big Jim—Ernie—
is
my father. He lives in this building and I live with him.”

“I highly doubt it. Hookers don’t live here,” he said, tugging a red T-shirt over his head.

“Excuse me?” she yelled. “I’m not a hooker, and you owe me an apology!”

“Really?” he said, giving her an obvious once-over, his gaze settling on her bustier.

Her cheeks burned.

“Wait. I can explain.”

“Enlighten me.” He narrowed his eyes, doubt etched on his face.

“See, there was this costume party and . . .” Her words trailed off. How to explain the theme of her college reunion without sounding like an imbecile for dressing in the ridiculous outfit just to win a blue ribbon? Now that she thought about it,
stupid
might aptly describe her decision-making skills tonight. “Well, there was a Pimp and Ho party earlier tonight. I was on my way home from it—”

“And you just happened to climb into my window?”

Jules opened her mouth to respond, but doubted he’d believe her anyway. So she settled on a half-truth. “It was a mistake. I meant to climb into Big Jim’s window, but it was jammed and yours was . . . open.”