Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (14 page)

At first she'd only grabbed him and held on, but now she wanted her hands on his bare skin, too. She wrenched his white shirt from his dress slacks and found his hard belly. There wasn't room between them, though. In pure frustration, she withdrew her hand and began to fumble with the buttons.

At some point Noah noticed and backed off, enough to let her finish. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, but it stuck at his wrists. He laughed and took care of the cuffs himself. She was overwhelmed by all that muscle. He was the most physically compelling man she'd ever seen, with those huge, powerful shoulders, arms that could lift her little Mazda, washboard abdomen and V of curling brown hair that arrowed toward the thin black belt at his waist. Busy staring, she hadn't noticed that he was divesting her of her top and then her bra until he cupped her breasts, gently squeezing and rotating his hands so that his calloused palms created friction that brought a cry from her throat.

“You're beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “So beautiful.”

“You're—”

His laugh vibrated in his chest. “Don't say beautiful. I'll know you're lying through your teeth.”

A bubble of amusement rose in her, part of the floating sensation that made her feel as if her feet weren't on the floor. “Magnificent,” she murmured, exploring. Her hands were greedy for his textures, for the play of those amazing muscles beneath the taut, hair-roughened skin, the hammer of his heartbeat. And then she couldn't stand it anymore and tugged his head down so that she could kiss him again.

His flavor was intoxicating, as musky as the scent of aroused male. The kiss became frantic, as if he were consuming her and she was trying to do the same to him. Not until she felt pressure against the back of her legs did Cait realize he'd walked her to his bed. Now he reached past her, yanked off the sheet, scooped her up and sat her down.

She tried to pull him with her, but he squatted instead and removed her shoes, carefully, one at a time. He made an indescribable sound when he discovered her stockings were thigh-highs; she couldn't look away from his face as he peeled them down, then engulfed her feet in his hands, kneading, finally moving up to her ankles, her calves. The skin behind her knees was so sensitive she jumped when his fingertips found it. He lifted his gaze to hers and didn't look away as his hands slid up her thighs, higher, higher, until she was trying to cant her hips to meet the touch she knew was to come. The blue of his eyes burned now, and the skin was stretched tight across those blunt cheekbones. His mouth was softer than she had ever seen, a little swollen from that last, fierce kiss, and, oh, God, she wanted that mouth on hers, on her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, her belly.

He squeezed her hips, hooked her panties and drew them down. She cramped with desperate longing. All she wore now was a very short skirt that didn't hide anything from him if he looked. But he didn't. Still his gaze pinned hers, and
she
couldn't look away.

“Unfasten my belt,” he said in a guttural voice.

Tearing her gaze from him, she felt a physical wrench. Her hands shook as she slid the leather from the buckle, parting it. With no prompting, she worked at the button at his waist and then the zipper. Cait heard herself panting as she lowered it over that thick bulge, exposing gray knit boxers. Before she could slide her hands inside them, he rose to his feet, kicked off his shoes and shed pants, boxers and socks in one move. As swiftly as he did it, she reached around to her back, lowered her own zipper and skimmed the skirt over her hips.

She had one instant of thinking how truly magnificent he was before he came down on top of her. They kissed and rolled and touched; eventually his mouth found her breasts and he suckled hard—no preliminaries. By that time all she wanted was him inside her. Oh, heavens, she was whimpering! Legs wrapped around his hips, Cait lifted herself until the blunt head of his penis nudged.

Noah swore, rolling away. “Cait. Just a minute.”

She was on birth control, but she had always, without exception, made it a rule that the man had to wear a condom, too. A couple of times Blake had refused. She couldn't call what he did rape, but it was closer than she wanted to remember.

Don't. Don't let him in your head.

Noah fumbled inside the drawer of the bedside stand, still swearing, but finally came up with a condom. Another time she might enjoy putting it on him, but she didn't think she could right now. She lay quivering, wanting to climb on top of him.

Then he was back, gripping her thighs, parting and lifting them even as he thrust inside her. And, oh, it almost hurt for a moment. He was a bigger man than any of her boyfriends, in every sense, but then she made a strangled sound of satisfaction. He'd been watching her face until then, but now he closed those blue eyes and began to move. Cait moved, too, riding him, struggling for the most intense pressure point, and then she imploded. Was that her crying out in such astonishment? It had to be. As the flash flood of pleasure subsided, she whispered his name, held him tight and reveled in the shudder and buck of his big body.

* * *

P
ANIC
HAD
N
OAH
in an icy grip, and he'd never been more ashamed. He'd
known,
damn it, he'd known what a terrible idea this was, and he'd done it anyway. Staring at the ceiling, all he could think was that his brain had gotten hijacked the minute he'd seen her gazing wistfully out at the street waiting for her brother. Two minutes longer in his office, and Colin would already have arrived, saving Noah from this monumentally huge screwup.

What was he supposed to do now? Say,
Wow, babe, that was fun but we shouldn't have done it?
Especially when the coils of panic tightened because what had just happened had been one hell of a lot more than “fun.” It was the best sex of his life, and he didn't want to think about what that meant. He desperately wanted to be alone, but he not only had to get her moving without saying anything he'd regret later; he also had to drive her home and potentially face her brother's hostile stare.

“Oh, my God,” she mumbled. He could just make out the words. Her face was squashed against his biceps.

Aware her stillness was no longer post-orgasm lassitude but rather her brain gearing up, he gave her a gentle squeeze.

“I hope that was worshipful,” he said, trying for light but failing.

“More freaked.” Cait lifted her head and blinked a couple of times as if remembering how.

Annoyed, Noah scowled. “I thought it was damn good.”

“I work for you.” She scooted away, one arm held protectively in front of her breasts. Which left him with a nice view of everything else. His body stirred.

“I thought we cleared that.”

“Do you think Earl would agree? Or George Miller?”

“They're not here.” His own panic had been completely supplanted by irritation and a different kind of panic. Was she saying this was a one-off she already deeply regretted?

She slid off the bed and scuttled around to the foot, grabbing clothes and holding them in front of her as a more successful shield. “I just...I knew this wasn't smart.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted, swinging his own feet to the floor. “But we both knew it was coming, didn't we?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Points for honesty.

“We're attracted to each other,” he said in a milder tone. “We're adults, both single. What we do out of the public eye is no one's business.”

That was good, he congratulated himself. He'd been attracted to a lot of women in his lifetime. This wasn't any different. Or not so different, at least. Why shouldn't they have an affair? It would wear out sooner or later; they always did. But, by God, he still wanted her. He'd have reached for her right now if she wasn't making her dismay so plain.

“That's what you want?” she said after a moment, cautiously. “To hook up when no one knows?”

His teeth ground together. “What's that supposed to mean? I took you out to dinner, didn't I? I didn't tell you to duck while I was driving out of the city parking garage. I'm talking about a reasonably private relationship, that's all.”

She swallowed, closed her eyes, then bobbed her head. “I'm sorry. I'm being... I don't know what I'm being. I just, um, I love my job, and I swore off men and now look at me.”

He was. At her gorgeous long legs and the peep of honey-brown curls her too-skimpy armful of clothing didn't hide, the white swell of breast, her delicate collarbone and perfect curve of lips.

And, hell, he had a hard-on, and he hadn't even gotten the damn condom off.

“I'm not your ex,” he said.

Cait gave another of those funny little nods. “I know.” She summoned a small apologetic smile. “I wouldn't be here if I thought you were like him.”

He scrubbed a hand over his head, probably making his hair stand on end, then stood. “I've got to get rid of this condom.”

“Yes, you do.” There was a little bit of a sparkle in her eyes, but some pink in her cheeks, too.

He kissed her cheek on the way by. He hated condoms, disposing of them being the number one reason. There was no dignity in his retreat.

Noah wouldn't have been surprised to find her already dressed when he got back to the bedroom. Despite his arousal, he should be relieved if she was, but once he'd beaten back the alarm, he couldn't seem to find it again. Why couldn't they make time for another round before he restored her to her brother's bristling care?

She wore her panties and was reaching behind herself to fasten her bra when he returned, but that was as far as she'd gotten.

Hearing his footstep, she turned. “You must think I'm totally neurotic.”

“No.” Noah didn't dare tell her what he did think about her. “You're under a lot of stress right now. And I guess you can tell I had some of the same hesitations you did.”
Hesitations. Good euphemism for fears.
“I broke one of my cardinal rules tonight. I don't have relationships—” read: sex “—with women who work for me.”

There was vulnerability in those soft gray eyes. “You're sure you wouldn't rather end this here? I promise not to make a nuisance of myself.”

He shook his head and reached for her hand, drawing her to him. “No. I still want you, Cait. It's been killing me, catching glimpses of you down the hall.” He nuzzled her, bumping her nose, touching his lips to the wing of her cheekbone and up to the temple. “Hard to miss you in all those Easter-egg colors.”

He could feel the curve of her smile.

“I like pretty colors.”

“Tell me you wouldn't wallpaper every room in your house if you could.”
Damn,
he thought on an icy wash of alarm. He'd come so close to saying,
In
this
house.
And he'd seen it, a flash between one blink and the next, her wearing old jeans and a T-shirt that stretched over a swollen belly, in that bedroom at the head of the stairs, laughing at him over her shoulder as she stood on a stepladder smoothing a sheet of wallpaper into place, water dripping from the big squishy sponge in her hand. Wallpaper with fluffy yellow ducklings on it.

He had never in his life pictured a woman doing anything like that, and especially not to
his
house. A woman who was pregnant with
his
child.

Yellow ducklings?

She chose that moment to wrap her fingers around his stubbornly erect penis and stroke it. “You must like pretty colors.”

God, he did—when she was wearing them. Like the panties she had on right now, the soft purple of lilacs in bloom. Although he liked her even better wearing nothing at all.

He could forget the moment of insanity involving ducklings and—
God forbid!
—pregnancy.

His cock would never forgive him if he didn't.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely and unfastened her bra. “You won't be needing this.”

CHAPTER TEN

C
OLIN
FOLLOWED
C
AIT
into the house four days later, suit coat slung over one shoulder, the ends of his tie dangling.

“This is Nell's late night, isn't it?” she asked.

His grunts were as speaking as Noah's. This was an unhappy one. “Yeah, unfortunately. You and I should have grabbed dinner on the way home.”

“I'll cook tonight,” she offered. “How about something simple? Quesadillas?”

“I'm beat,” he admitted. “If you mean it...”

“Of course I do.” She smiled at him. Their relationship
was
getting easier.

“Cait.” He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “We'll find the son of a bitch.”

She nodded. He had told her as soon as he'd picked her up downtown that a county sheriff's deputy had found Blake's camp, tucked on the bank of Bear Creek outside city limits. Neither Blake nor his car had been there, but the tent matched Cait's description, and when the deputy unzipped the small blue tent, he'd seen a white cardboard banker's box filled with file folders. The lid, carelessly tossed aside on top of the sleeping bag, had “Ralston” scrawled on it in black marker.

Really? Blake had brought
work
with him to fill the hours when he wasn't terrorizing her? Now, that infuriated her, maybe because it said,
This man isn't really crazy.

“I know,” she said, patting Colin's shoulder.

Black bean and cheese quesadillas were Cait's go-to dinner when she wanted food on the table in twenty minutes or less. Colin cooperated by putting a salad together while she cooked. Of course, she had to triple the number of quesadillas she made, since her brother's appetite was considerably heartier than hers.

After they had finished eating she was restoring the top to the sour cream and he was leaning back in his chair, sighing in repletion, when his phone rang. Unfortunately, he kept it with him everywhere but the bathroom, as far as she could tell.

He groaned, looked at the number and answered, listening for a minute before he said, “A
what?
”

Interest sharpened, Cait unashamedly eavesdropped but couldn't get anything from his side of the conversation except that he was stunned. “Of course we have to,” he said at one point. “I'll be there,” he finally growled, ending the call and pushing back from the table.

“As you probably gathered, I've got to go in. Unbelievably enough, we've had a bomb threat.”

“In Angel Butte?”

His laugh was unamused. “Better yet. The library.”

“You're kidding.”

“I wish.” He disappeared toward the bedroom, but his voice carried to her. “They have a program going on tonight in the meeting room. Historical society talking about the late nineteenth-and early twentieth-century range wars and vigilantism. To encourage attendance, the children's librarian is holding a preschool story time to include crafts.”

“Oh, my God. You mean, the library is packed?”

“Yeah.” Badge and gun back at his belt, he was shrugging into the suit coat again as he came back down the hall. “They're going to start evacuating.”

“At least Nell doesn't work there.”

Her brother's eyes met hers. “Yeah. I'll count my blessings.”

She followed him to the front door, where he paused. “Damn it, I don't like leaving you by yourself.”

She could see him debating whether she might not be safer with him at the site of a bomb threat. “I'll be fine,” she assured him before he got too enthused about that idea.

“Lock,” he ordered.

She rolled her eyes but crossed her heart. “Promise.”

With his long stride, he crossed the yard and disappeared through the side door into the garage in only seconds. Cait stayed where she was for a moment. Somebody had actually threatened to bomb the library during a preschool story time.
Unbelievable.

A thud brought her head around in time for her to see a blur of movement. Somebody had leaped over the railing and onto the porch. Her pulse sprang into overdrive, and she opened her mouth to scream.

Blake's hand slapped over her mouth before she could squeak out a sound. He shoved her backward into the house and kicked the door shut behind him. Colin would be backing out of the garage and assume she'd obediently gone back in. He wouldn't hear a scream now even if she could get free.

On a surge of fear, she thought of Noah, as intent as her brother on saving her. Noah, who wouldn't understand how she could ever have forgiven Blake for hitting her and let him do it again.

Noah,
she thought with anguish.

“Did you get my messages?” Blake asked, his mouth close to her ear.

Her mind cleared.
He
was responsible for the bomb threat, she understood suddenly. For scaring the crap out of all those people just so he could get her alone. Cait hadn't known it was possible to be so angry she literally saw red.

He was grinning at her, cocky, pleased with his tactics. He even removed his hand from her mouth.

She slammed her knee upward into his balls. When he screamed and crumpled, Cait backed up just far enough for her leg to reach full extension; then she kicked him in the face on his way down. There was a distinct and satisfying crunch, and blood spurted from his nose.

Curled into a fetal position on the floor, he was making awful sounds. She stared down at him in contempt and that same, bloodred rage.

“I am sick to death of you! Do you hear me?” When he didn't answer, she prodded him, not so gently, with the pointed toe of the shoes she hadn't yet taken off.

He gurgled some kind of acknowledgment.

“I'm calling my brother,” she said in a voice so hard it couldn't be hers. “When you get out of jail—
if
you ever get out of jail—I never want to see you again. Is that clear?”

He lifted a wild stare to her. “Jail? What are you talking about?”

“Attempted murder? You...you
creep.
”

Creep?
That was the best she could do? She wanted to kick him again, but he looked so pathetic.

“I wouldn't hurt you,” he wailed.

“Really? You're such a good shot you missed on purpose?”

Shock froze his expression and all she could think was,
Oh, no.

“What are you talking about?” He pressed his hand to his nose in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. “I hate guns! You know that.”

It wasn't him.
The thought brought her world to a momentary stop. She felt as if she were hanging over space.
It wasn't him.

Someone
else
wanted her dead.

Still clutching his genitals, he rolled and started to struggle to his feet. That brought Cait back to the moment. She planted her foot on him and pushed him over.

“Do not move,” she ordered. How quick could she grab her phone? Maybe not quick enough. “Did you call in the bomb threat?”

“I just wanted to get you alone,” he mumbled. “And you...you
hurt
me.”

“Now you know what it feels like.” Her vision was still strange, sharpened and almost but not quite distorted at the edges. “Is there a bomb?”

“No! I wouldn't do that.”

“But you made the call.”

He made a blubbery noise of acquiescence, blood and snot pooling beneath his face.
Ick,
she thought dispassionately; he was making a mess on the shiny wood floor.

She turned and walked away, going into her bedroom for her phone, left in her messenger bag. She had it in her hand when she heard the click of the front door closing. Cait went back to the living room and looked out to see him scuttling across the yard, bent over.

She almost stepped out on the porch to remind him that she'd better never see him again, but really, why bother?

The sense of release made her light-headed until a sick rolling in her stomach wiped out any triumph.

Someone else is trying to kill me.

Blake, she thought, had been all about threats and impulse and temper. Whoever had pulled the trigger out on Bond Road that day had been entirely cool—and therefore far more dangerous.

She scrolled for Colin's last message and touched Send.

“Cait?” he answered. There were urgent male voices in the background.

“There's no bomb,” she told him.

* * *

S
HE
'
D
TAKEN
CARE
of him? What did that mean?

Noah drove with his grip so tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles ached.

He had barely arrived at the library, already in the midst of an orderly evacuation made disturbing by the frightened faces and the children with their piercing voices saying things like, “Mommy? You said we could check out books. Why can't we stay? Why are the policemen here?”

He'd gotten out of his SUV and was staring, thinking,
My town
is going to hell in a handbasket, and I don't even know why.
And then he saw McAllister, who had also obviously just arrived. As he got out of his SUV, he was talking on his phone; then he put it away and spoke intensely to his officers. From halfway across the parking lot, he spotted Noah. Leaving off whatever he was saying, he strode toward Noah. The people he'd been talking to all gaped at his back, as if he'd walked away midspeech.

“Chandler,” he said, “Cait just called. She says there's no bomb. It was that son of a bitch Ralston. He wanted to get her alone.”

Fear crested and broke in Noah like some killer wave. His whole body went rigid. “He's got her?”

“She says she took care of him. She sounded...calm.”

“Calm.”

“Told me to do what I had to do, not to worry.”

Somehow he kept from repeating dumbly,
Not to worry?
“Where is she?” he managed instead.

“Still at the house.” His jaw tightened. “She says.”

He pulled his car keys from his pocket. “I'll go.”

“I can send a unit.”

“If he's hurt her, I'll kill him.”

No caution to remember the law. Instead, “You'll call me?” her brother asked.

Noah nodded and was gone.

A five-minute drive took two. Plus side, he didn't have to worry about getting a ticket; he knew where every cop in town was. The tires squealed on pavement when he turned into McAllister's driveway. Hearing that, he made himself lift his foot from the pedal so he didn't skid on the gravel.

No other vehicle was in sight. Lights were on in the house. He leaped out and ran for the porch, taking the stairs two at a time. Then he hammered on the door.

“Cait!” he bellowed.

When she opened the door, he almost fell in.

“Noah?”

Despite her bemused expression, he snatched her into his arms. He could hear his own heartbeat, and his lungs were working like old-fashioned bellows. He swore, viciously, nonstop. All he could think was,
She's all right. Not hurt.
Nothing like he'd imagined had happened.

Her arms had locked around him, and he realized she was soothing him by stroking his back. Finally he was able to groan and loosen his hold on her.

“Where is he?”

Her lip curled. “He took off.”

His heartbeat was starting to slow. “What happened?”

“Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“I want,” he said from between clenched teeth, “for you to tell me
what happened.
”

She blinked. “Blake used the phone call to the library as a diversion. He came, and I kicked his ass.” She sounded so satisfied, Noah's relief turned into a choked laugh.

“Okay. Now I'll take the coffee.”

Watching her sashay into the kitchen, her butt swinging, he shook his head and took out his phone.

It rang once.

“She's fine,” he told Colin. “Ralston is gone. She says she kicked his ass.”

Silence.

“I haven't gotten the details yet, but she's unscathed and she sounds pretty pleased with herself.”

Her brother uttered an obscenity. “Ask her if she knows where his car was.”

Noah relayed question and then answer. “No. Says he scuttled away—her words—into the woods to the north.”

“People that own it are never there. He could have parked in their driveway.” Voices were talking to him, and Colin had apparently muffled the phone. After a minute he came back. “Tell her I'll be home as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” Noah was the bemused one now, going into the kitchen, where Cait leaned against the counter edge.

“What'd he say?”

He told her.

“What a mess. I suppose they'll have to search the library anyway.”

“Probably.” He shook his head. “I assume someone will be waiting for Ralston at his campsite.”

“Which he doesn't know has been found.” Her eyes sharpened on him. “How did
you
know it was found?”

All Noah did was cock an eyebrow.

Cait made a face at him. “I can't believe my brother is reporting to you. You know he wouldn't if he knew.”

“That I'm doing his sister?”

“Doing?”
She sounded outraged.

“I can think of cruder ways to put it.” He grinned at her. He felt euphoric. She was all right! Not hurt!
Damn.
“You know, your brother is smart enough to suspect.”

“He thinks he's hardly taken his eyes off me.”

“He knows we've spent a couple of evenings together.”

She was silent for a moment. “He might have a suspicion.”

“Suspicious is his middle name.”

Not denying it, Cait sighed and turned to get mugs out of the cupboard.

Noah didn't want coffee and conversation; he wanted
her.
“Where's Nell?” he asked.