Читать книгу Still the One - Debra Cowan - Страница 10

Arousal fired little points along her nerves. Rafe had nearly kissed her. Even now, hours later on the return trip to Oklahoma City from Davis, that thought hammered through Kit’s mind. With every pulsing sense in her, she wished he had.

Thank goodness he hadn’t.

Smoky midnight swirled around them. Phil Collins crooned on Rafe’s state-of-the-art car stereo. Kit ran a hand over the Corvette’s buttery soft tan leather seat, not surprised that Rafe drove such a speedster. He’d always said he had a need for speed. As they traveled north on I-35, leaving behind the south side of Oklahoma City, lights from the highway and roadside businesses flashed by in a blur. For the late hour, there was still a fair amount of traffic.

She glanced over her shoulder, as she had every couple of minutes since they’d lost the tail outside her neighborhood a few hours ago.

It wasn’t the dread of seeing another car following them that had her nerves feeling raw and exposed. It wasn’t the compact space and tight lines of the Corvette’s interior that made her feel…cornered. Or the fact that Rafe had barely spoken since they’d left Tony’s parents. It was the way Rafe’s body heat formed a wall against her arm, the way his dark, rich scent stroked her senses.

It was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about that split second in the hallway when memories had crashed over both of them, when naked hunger had tautened Rafe’s features.

Only he had ever looked at her that way. Other men had said they wanted her, but none of them had ever looked at her as if they had to have her. For that one heartbeat of time, she’d wanted to fall into his arms, call back what they’d shared. And that was dangerous.

She was no more willing to give up her independence now than she had been in college. At fourteen, she’d been handling responsibilities most women didn’t handle until they were twenty-one, and she wasn’t going to give that up. Couldn’t, really.

The truth was she’d never gotten close to any man, until Rafe. Or since Rafe, she thought ruefully, staring over her shoulder again.

Her gaze shifted to his chiseled profile then dropped to his mouth. During their trip to Davis and the visit with Tony’s parents, she’d managed to dodge thoughts of that near kiss. But now…

Her nerves were shot, and she’d been in Rafe’s company less than twelve hours. Again she turned, searching the play of shadow and streetlights for a car that might have been behind them too long.

“I can’t believe I was really being followed,” she murmured, wishing she weren’t so aware of his lean fingers on the steering wheel, the broad hand that rested on his jeans-clad thigh.

He changed lanes, a smile in his voice. “If you’re going to look for a tail, it’s best if you aren’t too obvious.”

“Oh.” She faced front.

“Keep an eye out either by looking in your rearview or your side mirror.”

Her gaze sliced to the right. Illuminated by the high-powered roadside lighting, the side mirror showed a beat-up pickup pulling a horse trailer and following some distance behind. A sporty red car passed them on the left. “Maybe you could teach me some things. I mean, about how to spot a tail and how to lose one.”

“Sure.” Was it her imagination or did his voice tighten?

He’d been reserved since they’d left her house, answering questions when she asked, but not making conversation. She should probably follow his lead.

The effortless way he’d lost the men who followed them reassured Kit. And grated on her at the same time.

As long as she was with him, she didn’t have to worry that she would lead Alexander’s men anywhere, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t be with Rafe all the time.

Her body thrummed with awareness of his rich, earthy scent. She fixed her gaze on the side mirror, glad when they exited onto I-235 North in the center of the city.

Seeing his old basketball jersey had affected her like a kick to the stomach. Brought back the memory of the look on his face when he’d found her in that shirt so long ago. Surprise, then a slow-curling, wicked smile as he’d tumbled her onto his rumpled bed. That had been the first, and only, time she’d initiated their lovemaking.

At the memory, her cheeks heated and she shifted against the smooth leather at her back. “So, did you believe Tony’s parents? You really think they don’t know where he is?”

“Yes. If Valentine’s parents had seen him, I think they would’ve been nervous, evaded my questions. Plus I checked around outside while you stayed inside with them. There were no signs that anyone had been there. And I don’t think they faked the concern they feel for Tony and Liz. Or their anger at Tony.”

“I was really hoping we’d learn something down there.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Now what do we do?”

“Like I said, I’ll check on the computer we found at Tony’s place. I’ll talk to his employer and parole officer tomorrow.”

“I want to come along.” She half-turned to face him in the car, lacing her fingers together against the urge to touch him. Thank goodness, they were nearly at her house. “I know I can help, if you’ll just let me.”

Regardless of his answer, she didn’t plan to sit around waiting on him to learn something and call her with a daily report.

“We’ve already been over this.”

“What if you don’t find them? I will have done nothing to help Liz and I can’t live with that. I stayed out of your way at the Valentines and you are the one who wanted me to go.”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. “That was for your safety.”

“And what if I’m still being followed?”

“We’ll deal with it.”

“I really need to do something.” Then grudgingly, “Please?”

His jaw set as he exited the highway and headed west on Wilshire toward May Avenue. Heavier traffic zoomed along these streets than had been on the highway. At one point, he swerved sharply, reminding Kit that he’d done the same thing about an hour ago. He must’ve been trying to miss an animal or a pothole.

“What about your work schedule? Are you flying out anywhere in the next couple of days?”

“No. I called in yesterday.” Had it really been only a day and a half since Liz had disappeared with Tony? “I’ve built up a few weeks of vacation and my boss said I should take some time.”

“At least I won’t have to worry about where you are and I can concentrate solely on finding your sister.”

So glad I could help. Kit bit back the sarcastic words.

How had he gone from flying for the Air Force to this job? She didn’t ask. It was better not to know about the life he’d made without her.

Her mind and body ached from trying to deny how much she’d wanted him earlier. If Rafe sensed she couldn’t get past that, he’d be out of here so fast she wouldn’t know what happened.

He swung into her driveway and killed the engine. “I want to check your house again for bugs.”

“You didn’t find anything before.” She paused with her hand on the door handle.

“Don’t you wonder where those guys went after I shook their tail?”

She should have. She hadn’t.

“It’s possible they came back here, installed a little something to make sure they could keep track of you.”

“All right.” After getting out of the car, she moved up the sidewalk and onto the porch in front of him. He stayed close, close enough that she could feel him at her back. She swallowed against the way her nape prickled. She unlocked the door and waited for him to enter first.

She felt so out of her league with all this stuff, and Rafe acted as though it were second nature. When—how—had he learned to do investigative work? Obviously he needed to know these things for his current job. She knew he probably wouldn’t welcome her questions so she kept her mouth shut, walked in behind him and closed the door.

He motioned for her to turn on the light then the stereo, so she did, keeping the volume at a moderate level. The deep voice of a local DJ boomed out of the receiver before whiskey-voiced Chris Isaak began to sing about doing a bad, bad thing.

Inserting the earpiece into his left ear, Rafe headed down the hallway. His gaze was narrowed and his nostrils flared in a way that Kit had never seen.

He looked like a…predator, dangerous, unfamiliar. Kit couldn’t stop the spike of excitement in her blood pressure.

From what he’d told her at Tony’s, she knew that this time he would start at the back of her house and work his way to where they’d come in. He moved first to her bedroom, then Liz’s, turning in a slow circle in each room. Kit followed slowly, trying to ignore the slow roll of his hips, the ripple of muscle beneath the khaki T-shirt.

He made quick work of the bathroom and gave her a thumbs-up. She let out a sigh of relief. She could not handle knowing someone was watching her in the bath.

Her gaze locked on his hands. Strong, gentle hands sprinkled with a faint dusting of dark hair. Surrounded by the seductive bass of Chris Isaak, Kit found herself swamped by memories of those hands on her body, stroking, teasing, pleasing.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and forced herself to watch Rafe, to pay closer attention to the pictures on the walls, to the light switches, the blades of the ceiling fan, just as he did.

When he walked through the living room toward the kitchen, he halted abruptly. Pressing the earpiece close to his ear, he listened intently. He prowled the perimeter of her kitchen, returned to the living room. She moved to the sofa, feeling along the cushions, inside the lampshade, her gaze going questioningly to his. He nodded, those lean fingers edging around the casing of the wall phone as he glanced at the bug detector he held.

He reached up to slide a hand along the blades of the ceiling fan, and his T-shirt rode up to expose sleek brown skin. When he stretched, muscle flexed across his flat belly, drawing her eye to the waistband of his snug jeans.

She straightened, pulling her gaze away to scan the room, telling herself to keep searching for audio or video equipment, though she hardly knew what to look for. Rafe moved to the wall, studied the air-conditioner return where the wall met the ceiling. He ran a finger along each pleated opening of the vent, then moved away, seemingly satisfied.

Once again his gaze traveled the room, pausing on the sofa.

He went from relaxed alertness to rigid readiness. Her gaze followed his as he looked down at the tool he carried and she saw a green LED flash. Rafe slipped the bug detector into the back pocket of his jeans. With a few silent strides, he passed in front of her and stopped at the sofa, close enough that she could feel the warmth from his body.

Dread pinched at her.

He turned, wrapping his fingers around her elbow. The heat that shot up her arm barely registered as he drew her gaze to the sofa.

He pointed, and she stared for a moment without realizing what she looked at. Then…instead of the dark plaid-covered sofa button she expected to see, she saw a flat black button. Not a button, a bug. A listening device.

She turned, shock rippling through her. “Can they hear—”

He hauled her to him, his mouth crashing down on hers.

Kit stiffened, her eyes going wide. Hot, hard lips moved over hers as a shock wave jolted her body. Then she sagged against him. Just a little.

Half-formed thoughts tumbled around in her head. She might’ve imagined it, but for an instant she thought his lips softened, coaxing the strength out of her the way they used to. He lifted his head, his dark gaze smoldering on her lips then lifting to her eyes.

She blinked, swaying. A breathy sound escaped her, and a flush darkened Rafe’s skin.

He leaned toward her, and she couldn’t form one rational thought. Just… Oh, yes.

Then his breath burned her ear, sent a shiver down her spine. “Don’t talk.”

Talk? She couldn’t breathe. Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms.

He skimmed his lips up her temple, back down to her ear. She began to tremble. And reason kicked in. She pushed at his chest; his hands tightened on her upper arms.

Again he whispered, barely audible, “That’s a bug. Play along.”

Aloud, he said, “Ten years and you can still do this to me.”

His voice spilled over her like heated oil, torching a desire she’d buried too long. She knew it wasn’t real, knew he didn’t mean anything by it. Still her fingers curled into his T-shirt; she needed something to steady her legs.

His lips skimmed hers again. His hands smoothed down her back, flexed at her waist. Kit fought the urge to push away. She understood that he was playing for their unseen audience, but she shuddered anyway.

His lips came back to her ear, heat inching under her skin. “I found the camera, too. On the wall, four o’clock.”

Why was he talking about the time? Oh, he meant somewhere on the wall. A deep breath sawing out of her, she turned her head to the right.

Long fingers captured her jaw, gently forced her head to his. Black eyes seared hers, and he whispered against her lips, “Sorry, my four o’clock.”

She nodded dumbly, her body pulsing almost painfully.

His hands curved over her hips, and his voice rumbled out. “I am so ready for you.”

It was all an act for whoever was watching and listening, but it didn’t feel like acting to Kit. Still, she struggled to catch up, to be as cool as he was.

His eyes might be distant, but there was a flush beneath his skin. His breathing was slightly uneven.

He curled one knuckle under her chin, tilting her face toward his. “It’s been a long time,” he groaned. “Too long.”

To whoever watched, it probably appeared that they were kissing again. Kit lifted her head, her lips brushing his. Needles of heat slid under her skin. She forced herself to follow his gaze to the left, searching for the camera.

Rafe kissed her cheek, her temple. Her heart ached with a strange combination of sadness and anger as she struggled to pretend, the way he was.

This close there was no way he could miss the way her nipples had hardened and heat—of embarrassment, of arousal—flushed her body.

He breathed in her ear again. “The camera’s in the light knob.”

Her hands flexed involuntarily, bunching his shirt as her gaze shifted to the round knob on the wall that controlled the overhead light and ceiling fan. She tried to focus on what he said, but all she could think was she wanted him to kiss her again. For real, this time.

No, no, she desperately corrected. Where was her pride?

What pride? her conscience taunted. To even be here with him, she had to pretend she had none.

She could feel the power of his thighs bracketing hers, the flat, hard muscle of his belly, the lingering taste of his mint gum on her lips.

Tears stung her eyes, and Kit stiffened her spine. He felt it, trailed those wicked fingers up her back. His touch only fanned a languorous heat, and her irritation spiked. She didn’t like how he sent her pulse skyrocketing, didn’t like the way she ached to arch into him, wrap her body around his.

Resentment flared. Did he know how he was affecting her? Was he enjoying it? His voice was cool; his eyes weren’t. In a perverse need to find out if she could still affect him the way he did her, Kit slid her hands up his chest, around his neck and pressed full against him. She took a reckless satisfaction in seeing his eyes widen, feeling the sudden flex of his body against hers.

Going up on tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, “Now what?”

The satisfaction she felt was quickly squashed when he hauled her to him, one thigh insinuated between hers and pressing against the damp heat between her legs. Her hands clamped on to his shoulders for the sole purpose of support.

His gaze lasered into hers. He kissed her again, his mouth covering hers with ruthless purpose. Controlled deliberation. A warning to back off. Now.

It triggered something wild and angry inside her. Reacting on pure instinct, she slid one hand into his thick dark hair, curled the other around his strong, warm nape.

For a moment, he stiffened. Then his restraint snapped. His hands tunneled into her hair, gripping her head as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming every part of her. She couldn’t think, didn’t want to.

It had been so long. He felt so good. Hard, hot male against her, his kiss seducing the strength from her legs. Her hands splayed across his back, pressing closer.

He pulled away, his breathing ragged, the muscles in his neck taut and straining. Surprise flickered in his eyes, then disappeared. “Get your things,” he rasped. “Let’s finish this at my place.”

She nodded, barely aware of moving down the hallway and into her room. With sweat-slicked palms, she dragged an overnight bag from the top of her closet and threw in a change of clothes, underwear. Heartbeat thundering against her ribs, she managed to remember her toothbrush and makeup.

Away from him, she could think. Yes, she needed to be away from him, she thought desperately as she dragged the back of her hand across her lips, still burning from his.

That kiss hadn’t felt like playacting to her. It had felt vividly, painfully real. Reminded her of what she’d thrown away.

When she returned to the front room, he reached for her, planting another kiss on her lips. But she felt the difference this time. This kiss was constrained, like the first one. Studied.

She tried to corral the sensations raging through her body. With one hot hand at her waist, Rafe guided her outside. She turned to lock the door, and he pressed close.

His chest felt like tempered steel against her shoulder blades. His body heat seared through the fabric of her dress. Throat tight, breasts tingling, she shut her eyes.

Only when she turned did she see that he wasn’t paying attention to her at all. He was checking out her porch light, studying the doorbell for signs of other bugs or another camera. Resentment shot through her, and she squashed the urge to knock him flat on his butt. He was doing a job, she ruthlessly reminded herself. He was here for Liz, not her. Not them. There was no them.

Still, how could he be so calm? She felt shaky, ready to shatter, and he looked fully in control. He was no longer flushed. His pulse beat slow and steady at the side of his neck whereas hers fluttered so rapidly she felt it in her throat.

He walked down the sidewalk and turned, waiting for her. Looking as unaffected as if he didn’t even know her, as if she hadn’t felt the hard swell of his arousal against her belly moments ago. It had meant nothing. It had been only for the people listening in on them.

Kit reminded herself of that at least twenty times on her way to his car. Trying to steady her thundering pulse, she walked to the opposite side of the Corvette. Across the car’s top, their eyes met.

“Sorry about that. The kiss, I mean.” He gestured toward the house with irritating nonchalance. “It was the quickest way I could think to stop you from announcing we’d found their bug and tipping them off about the camera.”

What was she supposed to say? Oh, it’s all right that you kissed the breath out of me. It wasn’t. She wondered if it was going to be.

“Sure. No problem.” Her voice caught, and she fought the urge to hide her face in her hands. “What do we do now?”

“You’re coming home with me.”

“But…” Panic clawed at her. “Is that a good idea?”

“You have a better one?”

“How about anywhere but there?” she drawled.

The glint of male satisfaction in his eyes had her clenching her jaw. “Wouldn’t it be better, safer if we—I went to a hotel?”

He slid her a look. “We can, but I can’t guarantee the security of a place like that the way I can my own house.”

“Of course.” The only thing she understood was that she needed to be away from him, and that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

His house. A dull throb built at the back of her head.

“Like it or not,” he said brusquely, “we’re stuck together.”

He obviously didn’t like it.

“And we both might as well get used to it. I’m not letting you out of my sight until we find that ditzy sister of yours.”

“You never did understand Liz,” she snapped. “Well, you don’t have to. You just have to find her.”

“That’s the plan,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Her glare went unremarked. Panic closed across her chest as she got into the Corvette. She told herself that finding Liz would be worth risking her heart again. Worth anything, but after that staged seduction scene, she wasn’t sure she was up for even five more minutes with Rafe Blackstock.