Sex & the Single Girl (17 page)

With unkempt hair and a face full of scruff that hadn't seen a razor in weeks, Jimmy looked nothing like the man she'd dated. As he closed the distance between them she smelled alcohol—possibly days'
worth of alcohol judging by his wrinkled clothes and the sharp acidity of his scent.

“You're a long way from home.” She commented only to buy herself time as she walked backward, hoping she could get him where she wanted him.

Praying he wouldn't shoot her first. She wanted the chance to tell Aidan she finally understood he wasn't such a dangerous guy after all. That his quick thinking had inspired her plan to get out of this mess.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Jimmy peered around her house with his red-rimmed gaze. “I wouldn't be here if you hadn't skipped town without even telling me. Now, I come all this way and it turns out you're screwing around on me behind my back. I'm not a happy man, Brianne.”

The back of her calf hit the bench in her foyer. The same bench she'd been sitting on the day Aidan had shown up at her house unexpectedly and caught her staring at erotic statues. She should have made love with him on the floor like she'd wanted to. Instead she'd walked away because of her fears. And now she might never have the chance to roll around with Aidan on the foyer floor.

Her eyes itched with unshed tears while her heart ached with regret.

“Don't even think about heading out that door, Brianne.” Jimmy's angry tone sliced through her thoughts, called her back to the present with frightening clarity. “I've got at least three bullets in here with your name on them if you get any closer to the exit.”

His threat cemented her resolve, stiffened her spine. She couldn't pretend that maybe he only wanted to talk
to her or that maybe this encounter could end peacefully. He'd broken into her house with a gun and he intended to use it.

Her fingers flexed around the master remote she still clutched in her right hand. She couldn't afford to give away her plan with her eyes, but she sensed she'd drawn Jimmy into the proper position.

Aidan told her once she was hell on wheels, and there was no time like the present to prove him right. She hoped.

“I'm not going anywhere.” She felt for the circular button on the bottom right of her remote and squeezed it as she talked in an effort to mask the ensuing noise. “But you might be.”

He didn't look up until the last second.

And he was either too drunk or too surprised to move.

Brianne's massive hallway chandelier rushed down toward the floor in response to her flick of the switch. Thankfully, she hadn't had a chance to fix her faulty wiring job that had the contraption moving at high speed.

The heavy wrought-iron fixture clanged him in the head and brought him to the floor, effectively imprisoning him between the bars.

Not that he needed to be imprisoned. He slumped on the floor in what looked to be a total knockout.

Brianne scrambled for the gun, unwilling to rely on her visual assessment of his condition. In the films she made, the bad guy never went down the first time. Picking up the heavy steel, she tested the weight of the weapon and turned it on him. Just in case.

She hadn't fought this much of the battle only to have him shoot her while her back was turned.

After having been stalked, followed, harassed, vandalized and held at gunpoint tonight, she planned to live long enough to tell Aidan she wasn't afraid of his job, her feelings or taking a few chances anymore.

 

A
IDAN'S BRAKES SQUEALED
as he steered his flying car into Brianne's driveway, taking out half a row of hedges.

Fear twisted his insides, had been riding in his throat the whole way across town from the Palm Beach police headquarters. Thank God he'd been there and not down at his office in Miami when Brianne's call came.

Help me.

He vaulted what was left of the hedges in his haste to get to Brianne, praying he wouldn't be too late. He could have sworn the sound that cut them off had been a gunshot. His feet pounded across the lawn, the leaden weight of his shoes sprinting over the grass at only half the tempo of his racing heart.

He'd been in the middle of wading through mountains of paperwork, talking to the press and initiating a high-level investigation into Jackson Taggart's father when the call came that knocked him off his foundations.

Scared the hell out of him.

The cops were minutes behind him, but he wouldn't wait. Couldn't wait.

Those three frightening words from Brianne—
help me, Aidan—
had brought everything that was important to him into immediate, razor-sharp focus.

He'd been running scared from the connection be
tween them this morning and now he'd trade anything to have it back. To be given another chance with Bri.

As he reached the front door, he turned the knob. Nothing.

A soft cry emanated from somewhere inside the house. Terrified of what might be happening to her, Aidan shot the lock and blasted his way through the door.

He didn't have to look far to find her. She sat slumped on the stairs at the end of the foyer in a house that looked like a war zone. Rubble covered the floor. Tears stained her cheeks.

“Aidan.” Her voice whispered hoarsely across the distance that separated them.

He plowed his way through the glass and debris to get to her as a mixture of relief and rage flooded him, welcome emotions in the aftermath of the chilling fear that had held him in a vise grip ever since her phone call. Relief she was all right. Rage at what she must have been through.

She held a gun in one hand now.

Trained on a body lying on her hallway floor.

Aidan's years in the FBI helped him put together the crime scene faster than she could have ever explained it to him. The broken window, the glass everywhere.

Reaching her side he slid his arms around her and slipped the gun from her hand. He held her for precious seconds, absorbing the warmth, the incredible strength of her slender body in his hands.

His eyes burned. His head pounded at the thought of what could have happened to her.

And the love he felt for her couldn't have been more obvious.

“I was so damn scared.” He swiped a thumb across her cheek, drying her tears. “Are you okay?”

She nodded against his shoulder and some of his rage subsided as relief overwhelmed him.

Still, he couldn't deny a twinge of grim happiness when he saw the body on the floor twitch.

He set Brianne aside, his fingers already clenching as her attacker shook his head as if to clear his vision. At least Aidan hoped that's what happened. Because he wanted to make certain the guy got a damn good look at the fist careening toward his face.

Violence had never felt so fulfilling.

Reassured that the guy was down for the count until the local police arrived, Aidan turned back to Brianne. Gut still churning with residual fear, he scrubbed a hand across his face and met her gaze. “Call me a dangerous guy all you want, but I'm not apologizing for wanting to kill him.”

“He would have killed me.” Her green eyes conveyed new understanding, a quiet acceptance of Aidan's words. “But the police can handle the punishment. You and I have done more than our share to fight him off. It's not up to us anymore.”

The wail of the sirens already grew in the distance and Aidan knew they didn't have time left to talk. They'd be stuck answering questions for hours.

So he used the remaining moments to pull her in his arms and feel the jumpy beat of her heart. Listen to her breath whoosh in and out past his ear as he squeezed her to him.

He didn't know how the police would be able to question her because he didn't think he'd ever be able to let her go.

“I
STILL CAN'T BELIEVE
you knocked him out with the chandelier.” Aidan shook his head as he heaved Brianne's suitcase onto the luggage stand in Honeymoon Heaven on the top floor of Club Paradise. He slumped against the windowsill and turned back to her with that same disbelieving expression he'd worn for the last two hours.

They'd answered all the questions the police had for them and Aidan had spoken to several officers privately to suggest increased protection for Brianne on the off chance Jimmy was released on bail before his trial. Brianne had the feeling her house would be thoroughly patrolled for the rest of her life.

Now, she planned to sleep at the club in one of the old rooms until her home could be cleaned and the window repaired. She clutched the coffee cup Aidan had filled for her on their way out of the police station and smiled up at him.

Warmth spiraled through her, and not just because of the potent brew. Aidan had repeated this same phrase at least ten times since appearing at her door to discover her with an unconscious criminal imprisoned on her foyer floor. He couldn't believe she'd brought down a gun-wielding assailant with a chandelier.

“I can't believe he made it all the way from New York to Palm Beach without us knowing about it.” Brianne remembered Aidan had flagged Jimmy's credit card accounts so they'd know if he bought gas out of state. He'd also found a way to be alerted if her psycho ex-boyfriend purchased plane tickets. So why hadn't they known he was on his way to Florida ahead of time?

“When I went to grab the coffee one of the detectives told me Vanderwalk hitched a ride on a tour bus with a band. He probably left New York a few hours after I called him the other day.” He pounded the windowsill in an absent rhythm with his fist. “I'm so sorry he got by me, Brianne.”

Abandoning her coffee cup to the dresser full of gilded cherub statues and heart-shaped mirrors, she crossed the carpet. Closed the distance between them to face the man she'd longed for in the scariest moments of her life.

“You don't have anything to be sorry for. Nothing.” She pulled a crisp new baseball cap out of his hands— a token bestowed upon him during his meeting with the Palm Beach police chief—and set it on the nightstand behind her. “You couldn't have possibly known he would be at my house tonight.”

“But in the course of one day you had to see
me
pull a gun on Melvin, and then
you
had to stare down the nose of a pistol. If you were opposed to the violence in my job before, I can't begin to imagine how you're going to feel about it now.” He brushed his hands up her arms, ran his fingers back down through her hair. “I can't leave my job yet because I just
started overseeing a new investigation of the guy who sabotaged my case against Mel the first time around. After that, if you want me to walk away from it, I will.”

Brianne knew that kind of sacrifice would probably be akin to someone throwing away all his baseball caps
and
his mirrored sunglasses. Still, the words didn't even stick in his throat.

“And just what would you do if you weren't a kick-ass FBI agent, Maddock? Somehow I can't envision you getting into telemarketing on a full-time basis.” Although she could see him being successful at most anything despite his unconventional approach to life.

“Maybe I'd talk you into showing me a little gadgetry. I bet there's a future in high-speed chandelier lowering devices. You may have come up with the next wave in home security.” He reached for the ball cap she'd put on the table and shook the crisp newness out of it before settling it on his head. Palm Beach Police was stitched across the front in yellow letters along with a series of small stars.

“I would never want you to leave the FBI.” Still, she loved him for suggesting it. Loved him for being willing to follow through with it. “You're too good at what you do to give it up for me.”

“You're missing my point. I want to be with you, Brianne, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen. You can't sidestep that by telling me I
can't
give up the FBI. I
want
to give it up.” His hands roamed down to her waist and paused on her hips. “I want you.”

The heat of his touch permeated the thin fabric of
her dress, warmed her skin despite the chill that had been dogging her all night. “I'm not the one missing the point here, Maddock. I want you, too. And that means I want the kick-ass crime buster, not another techno-geek to help me with my gadgets. I'm not about to let you leave the Bureau.”

“Kick-ass crime busting?” His hands slid away from her, his fingers flexing into clenched fists at his side. He pounded the tacky gilded dresser so hard all the cupid figurines jumped. “Thanks to my total lack of kick-ass ability you nearly died tonight at the hands of a lunatic, Bri. Where was I when you needed me? How the hell can you say I'd be better off at the FBI?” He squeezed his palm across his forehead, his fingers and thumbs practically biting into his temples as he turned away from her toward the door. “I'll go check the security monitors downstairs and make sure things are running smoothly in the club while you get settled.”

Apparently he didn't realize they were officially through walking away from one another. Brianne reached for his shoulder and tugged, effectively halting him in his tracks.

“You think you weren't there tonight, Aidan? Do you really think
I
kicked ass all by myself?
Me,
who is so afraid of real life that I lock myself in my office and watch it all from behind a camera lens or a computer monitor?” She slugged him—gently—on one broad shoulder. “If it hadn't been for you,
I
probably would have gotten shot instead of my television. If left to my own devices, I would have just cowered behind
the sofa because I was so scared I couldn't scream and I couldn't move. You know what saved me?”

He didn't ask, but his eyebrows lifted just a little.

“
You
did. You and your brilliantly ridiculous idea of pretending to be a telemarketer when you called New York the other day.” She gulped past the lump in her throat that had been growing ever since Aidan had moved toward the door. “I told myself that if you could crack cases by pretending to be a telemarketer, then I ought to be able to fight crime by calling on my own strengths.”

“Your gadgets.” The stern lines of his face relaxed. Softened.

“Exactly.”

He closed his eyes. Shook his head. And smiled. “Woman, I am so damn in love with you it hurts.”

“Really?” Brianne felt like a goofy eighteen-year-old again, staring up at the hunky federal agent with stars in her eyes.

“Honest and damn truly.” He cradled her face in his hands, stroked her cheek with the pad of one callused thumb. “I'm trying to respect your space, I'm trying not to crowd you after you've been traumatized, I'm trying to cope with the fact that I screwed up and let a murderous SOB get past me, but all I really want to do is beg you to come home with me and never leave.”

Happiness bloomed inside her on the most unlikely day of her life. She'd woken up to a crumpled note instead of a lover, she'd weathered two arrests and survived a showdown at gunpoint. Yet she had the feeling she would remember today as one of the best in her
whole life. “Then let's forget about my space because I've decided I don't want it anymore. In fact, I want as little as possible.”

Aidan obliged so fast her head was still spinning when his lips settled over hers. He kissed her with hunger and longing, his hands pressing her whole body to his in head-to-toe connection.

“You may never have any space again,” he whispered, backing her toward the bed.

But Brianne halted, not ready to lose herself in a sensual firestorm just yet. She had something important to say. Pulling back from Aidan's kiss, she put her hands on his chest for a very temporary barrier.

“I love you, too.” She blurted the words with zero finesse and all feeling. “I meant to tell you before but I got distracted by the kiss.”

“Even with the job?” His brow furrowed, obviously not understanding what she was telling him.

“You
are
the job, Aidan. And I want you exactly the way I found you.” The time had come for her to put a little of his dangerous muscle on her side—someone to fight with her and for her when times got tough.

He grinned that purely male smile that made her insides tingle. “Then I'm definitely taking you home. We can spend tonight in Honeymoon Heaven and tomorrow night in pure bliss at my place.” He backed her closer to the bed and gently tackled her to the mattress.

She laughed, amazed how much joy she could squeeze out of a hideous day. “You really mean it about me coming home with you?”

“Hell yes. You can't go back to your house until
the glass is fixed. And maybe not even then. I don't think we're going to be able to do this with you living in Palm Beach and me in South Beach.” His gray eyes roamed over her as if searching for answers to questions he hadn't asked yet. “I have the feeling we'll figure something out.”

She stared up at him, trailed her fingers up the strong arms that bracketed her as he held himself above her and shared the thought that had been chasing around the back of her mind. “I already have one part figured out.”

He rolled to one side of her and slid a hand down to her hip and then spanned the breadth of her belly with one heated palm. “I have one part of this figured out, too.”

“Not that.” Heat curled through her at his touch. “I just wanted you to know I've already got a plan for helping you make your job less dangerous.”

“You're going to keep me tied to the bed pleasuring you night and day?”

She had to smile at the hopeful look in his eyes. “Actually, I thought I'd work on those techno-gadgets you mentioned. I'm sure if I put my mind to it I can come up with a few projects to help you do your job better. More safely.”

“And what could you possibly do as a follow-up act to the swinging chandelier? How about some spy cameras or dart-shooting pencils? I really think you've got a future in gadgets. You can be Q to my James Bond, only a hell of a lot better looking.”

Brianne rolled her eyes as Aidan unbuttoned her dress with slow precision. “First I'm making a docu
mentary about stalkers I think. Maybe I'll be able to help other women if I do a little behind-the-camera investigation of my own.”

Pausing in his work on the buttons, he kissed her head. “Smart woman. But I really think the crime busters of the world would jump all over the dart-shooting pencils.”

“Fine, dart-shooting pencils it is.” She reached for the nightstand to dim the lamp then twined her arms around his neck. “But first, I need to make sure you're safe from female predators when you're out in the field. Maybe something along the lines of exploding lighters for you to offer those pushy cigarette girls.”

Aidan's lips brushed hers, his fingers picking up speed on the buttons of her dress now. “You're still a firecracker, Brianne.”

She stole the baseball cap from his head and plunked it on hers.

“I just believe in taking some basic security measures.” She shivered as he slid away the two halves of her dress, allowing the air to brush over her exposed skin.

“Then you're going to love the present I have in mind for you.” He unwound her fingers from his hair and laid a single kiss in her palm. “It's a little sign you wear on your left hand and it tells the rest of the world to back off—this woman's taken….”