Stuck On You (12 page)

Kate shook her head. Mack grunted. He shifted, put both feet flat on the floor then grabbed a chair cushion and held it in his lap. "How much longer before my clothes are dry?"

"I just put them in the dryer. It'll be a while yet."

"I have to hit the road," he said.

"You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here with me. And I'm going to put another ankle monitor on you."

"Not a good idea, Kate."

"What part?" She yawned again.

"All of it. I'm not going to wear another one of those things. Maybe they can trace me with the frequency or something."

"They can't," Kate said. "At least I don't think they can track you."

"You can with the drive-by and the damn VV-98. All they'd need is the frequency, right?"

"I don't know. I could ask Charlie."

"Who?"

"Charlie Chesterfield. He's the one who got me involved in electronic monitoring."

Mack's eyes narrowed, and for a second, she thought he might be jealous. Nice.

"Are you and Charlie close?"

For a second, Kate wanted to lie, wanted Mack to think that she had hadn't thought about him these past years. But the truth was that no one had ever measured up to Mack in her eyes.

“Charlie and I are just friends,” she had to admit.

"Good."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. It just means good."

The man was frustrating. She would have at least liked him to be mad at himself because he hadn't asked her out all these years.

But that was then and now was now, and right now all she could think of was making love with Mack.

"Mack?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you don't want me near you. You've made that quite clear. But you're still in my program, and I'm going to keep an eye on you."

"It’s not that I don’t want you near me. It’s that I
can’t
have you near me. Someone's trying to kill me, and I don't want you in the way."

"I'm very serious." Kate swallowed her disappointment. She could help him. Why wouldn't he let her? "I'm going to get the ankle bracelet now. Would you kindly put your knees together?"

Mack raised a perfect back eyebrow. “I'm making you nervous, aren't I?"

Kate stopped on the way to her desk, then turned around. Their gaze met. "Yes, Mack. You made me nervous in high school and you make me nervous now."

He stood up and tried to smooth his slip down, but the poor piece of cloth didn't have a prayer. It clung to everything...every bulge and protrusion. She should have let him wear a fluffy terry cloth towel instead of the clingy nylon slip.

He walked toward her in the ridiculous outfit, shedding the ripped robe along the way and tossing it on the VV-98. Kate backed up as he stood in front of her with his hands on his hips.

"Let's go to bed."

She could barely think over the slamming of her heart. He certainly cut to the chase. "Yes. No. Well..."

"Forget about the ankle thing for now. We're both tired. Let's get some sleep." He looked around. "Is there another room here? Where's your bedroom?"

She pointed to the couch. "That. It pulls out into a bed."

He smiled. "Cozy."

Kate avoided his eyes. "Maybe I should sleep on the floor?"

"Hell, no."

He lifted her chin with a finger, and she met his gaze.

"If I were any kind of a gentleman, I'd take the floor, but I'm not a gentleman and we're both tired. I think we can be adults and share the bed."

"It's not a good idea that we sleep together."

"It's a great idea, but if you're worried about what happened in the shower just now, I promise I won't touch you."

But I can't promise that I won't touch you
, Kate thought.

"Kate, I promise."

Damn his promises. She looked deep in to his eyes. He was sincere, much to her dismay.

"I insist that you wear the monitor." Kate moved around him and got the black plastic ankle bracelet from a desk drawer.

Mack didn't move. "Are you ever going to trust me?"

"It’s not about trust. It’s about my program. The program you agreed to do." She knelt down and quickly snapped the anklet into place. “Number three and counting.”

Mack shook his head, disgusted. "I'm going to get my clothes."

"But the cycle isn't done yet."

"It's close enough," Mack said, walking down the hall.

Kate pulled open the sofa sleeper and got the bed ready. When Mack returned, she was already in bed and the light was off. Only the orange glow of Clancy's sign lit the room.

She knew he could hear her heart pounding. She heard the mattress groan, then the sound of Mack's steady breathing, then his gentle snoring.

That made her mad. How could he so easily fall asleep, when she was torn between wanting to make wild, passionate love to him and sticking to her professional ethics?

More than anything, Kate wanted to curl up in his arms and absorb some of his strength, for he surely was strong. Here was a cop charged with heinous crimes, who had lost everything he owned today, whose parents thought he was dead. And he still managed to keep on going.

Kate sighed. Mack had wanted to visit his parents before and she wouldn't let him. She'd told him to call instead. If Mack had died in the fire...

She laid a hand on his back. "Mack?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"Wake up," she whispered loudly.

"Whatisit?" It was all one word, spoken into the pillow.

"Do your parents know that you are alive?"

“Yes.” He buried his head in the pillow and gave a deep sigh. The snoring began again.

Kate closed her eyes. She tried counting sheep, then tried counting Mack's snores. It was too unnerving with that massive hunk of man right next to her. She could smell the scent of lilac on his skin and peaches in his hair. And all he was wearing was a very flimsy half-slip.

And her hormones were raging. She wanted him!

Her knuckles skimmed nylon. Her red slip. Her heart started thumping again. This won't do. She couldn't sleep next to him when he was wearing that piece of nothing. Kate put a hand on Mack's bicep and shook him gently.

"Mmmm?"

"I thought you were going to put some clothes on."

"Too wet," he mumbled.

She let that digest, but she couldn't stop thinking of him, of the day's events. "Mack?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Where were you all day?"

In one quick motion, she found herself pinned under him with her arms over her head. Through the flimsy material of the slip, she felt his hardness. His weight on her was a blanket of muscle and man.

His lips found hers. He kissed her with a passion that made Kate melt into the mattress, melt into him.

"This seems to be the only way I can get you to shut up," he said. His tongue traced her lips. "Maybe we'll just finish what we started in the shower."

His words excited her. She wanted nothing more than to finish what they had started. But there were too many unresolved problems between them. Trust, for one. Kate wondered if the time would ever be right. If he would be able to clear his name and avoid a prison sentence. She couldn't stand to see Mack confined in a cage.

But she was scared for him. She was worried that the next time he wouldn’t be as lucky. She didn’t want to lose him, just when they were starting to get to know one another. Besides, he was still her client.

Kate warred with her conscience. It might be the last time they'd have together. She had adored him since the first time she saw him in homeroom, and right now she wanted to make love with him, wanted to seize the moment.

But maybe under different circumstances. When all this was over, and they weren’t at war.

That was why she absolutely hated the fact that what she was about to do was right.

She placed her knee just under the hem of his red slip, and said, “Get off me, Mack, or you'll be singing with the Vienna Boys' Choir."

CHAPTER 7

Mack smiled in the dark and rolled over. Maybe now she'd be quiet so he could really sleep.

He was kidding himself. He couldn't sleep now. He'd had his testosterone all reined in before he slipped into bed, but now, after Kate woke him up, all he wanted to do was to run his hands over every inch of her skin and kiss her until they were both senseless. Then he'd make love to her the way he had wanted to for so many years.

So much for deep breathing and mind control.

Right now, he wanted to throw caution out the window, and tell himself that he had a future with Kate. But he couldn't even get the present straightened out.

He had to find out who was out to get him and make sure he wouldn't go to jail for a lifetime.

He had no future with her. He never had. And he had no business being near her and putting her life in danger.

A cold shock went through him. Kate had just left his house before it exploded. What if she had been in there?

Kate shifted on the sofa sleeper next to him and gave an unladylike snore. The palm of her hand rested on his chest, over his heart. He put his hand over hers and took a deep cleansing breath. God help him, it felt right being with Kate. It made him feel whole. Complete. And more than a little sane.

He loved being with her, but he had to get away from her as soon as he could.

But not right now. He needed to sleep. Needed a plan. Needed some dry clothes. And not necessarily in that order.

Above all, he needed to speed up his investigation.

And he hoped like hell that his father wouldn't give him away and tell anyone he was alive. He'd tell Mack's mother, no doubt, but she wouldn’t tell anyone.

His mother was quiet, a mere shadow of a person. She never went against Mike Sr. or spoke her mind. Just once, Mack would have liked to have received a phone call or a visit from his mother, just because it was something that she’d wanted to do.

His brother Mike Jr. was just like his father–quick to judge, slow to forgive–and he saw everything in black and white, no shades of gray.

And him? He was a cop.

When Mack had passed on the scholarship and it went to Pete Nash, Mack was glad. Mack had secretly taken the Civil Service test for the Sheriff’s Department, had passed it, and was accepted at the regional police academy. One of his favorite instructors was none other than Marty Crowley. He soaked in Crowley’s every word. Crowley was his mentor, his idol, and eventually his friend. It was Crowley who encouraged him to go to night school. It was a long process while working full time, but currently, Mack was only four classes away from his Bachelor’s Degree in Criminal Justice.

His father was madder than hell when Mack passed on the four year ride to Syracuse University. He’d wanted him to go into corporate law, the same as Mike Jr. His mother just took him aside, away from his father’s earshot, and wished him well.

Mack didn’t regret his decision. The excitement of the job pumped him up. It didn’t matter if he was putting the pieces together of the latest homicide or was the lead man on a drug raid. Each day was different.

Mack had put everything into his job. He wanted to show his father and everyone who questioned him that he was the best cop Rose Lake had ever seen.

It didn’t leave much room for a social life, but he hadn’t had time to be lonely, he was living his job twenty-four hours a day. Up until the time he was sentenced to Kate's program, he never realized how lonely he actually was.

Damn, he enjoyed her company.

But he had nothing to offer Kate. He wasn't even a cop anymore. His badge was gone and so was his service revolver. All he had left from his house was the little .38 he carried at the small of his back–the gun which was now stashed under Kate's couch.

With another loud snore, Kate snuggled closer to him. Mack adjusted his slip–which had gotten too tight when her breasts touched his side. He kissed Kate's forehead, and fell asleep with his arm around her.

#

Kate set the mug of coffee down on the end table next to Mack. Mack sniffed the air before he buried his head deeper into the pillow.

It was nine in the morning and she’d been up for two hours, and most of those two hours were spent watching Mack sleep.

He was fascinating when he slept. Almost as fascinating as when he was awake. He mumbled, mostly repeating "who?", with his face reflecting deep angst instead of deep sleep.

Mack was an enigma. It seemed like the loss of his house, his car, and his meager possessions didn't even worry him. But she knew that it was very important for him to clear his name and find out who had set him up, and she knew that Mack would rather die than be confined in state prison.

But he wasn't going to die, not if she had anything to do with it. She very much enjoyed having him around.

Not being able to resist, she pushed his brownish-red hair back from his face. It was soft and mostly straight with a hint of wave. He needed a haircut, but obviously he had other things on his mind.

She thought of the house that she wanted to buy on Rose Lake and pictured living there with Mack. They'd take long walks on the beach together and talk for hours. Mack would confide in her and ask for her help.

Yeah, right. Well, she could dream, couldn't she?

Kate finally tore herself away from staring at Mack, took a shower, and dressed in tan shorts and a red tank top. Then she decided to raid Clancy's walk-in cooler. As always, she left the Clancys the money and a list of the things she took by the register.

This morning, she decided to make cheese and ham omelets for her and Mack. Everything was ready in a bowl in her small refrigerator. She'd start cooking on the hot plate when Mack got up.

She took his clothes out of the dryer, neatly folded them and stacked them on the counter in the bathroom. One pair of perfectly faded jeans, one orange extra-large tee shirt, one pair of white crew socks with a hole in the toe, and one pair of standard-issue, boring, white briefs.

She'd like to buy Mack some sexy underwear. He had the body and the...um...endowment for it. Maybe some black bikinis, satin maybe, or stretch.

She shook her head. Buying underwear for a man was such an intimate thing. It presumed that there was a relationship. And she didn't have that with Mack. Matter of fact, he'd said that he didn't want her around him, for her own protection, was what he’d said.