CHAPTER 5
The sight of the scar froze him in place. It started on the outside edge of her shoulder and ran in a jagged line toward her collarbone. Not the work of a surgeon, but the violent action of a bullet and an emergency room doctor’s frantic efforts to stop serious bleeding, he imagined.
Nick saw her stiffen, realizing belatedly he’d been staring. She jerked the comforter up to her chin, gripping the edge tightly. What was the matter with him? She was obviously self-conscious about the scar. He was only making things worse by sticking around and prolonging this. But he couldn’t take back what he’d seen. As a fellow cop—and her superior—he damn well couldn’t refrain from asking her about it.
He raised his gaze to hers, seeing far too clearly what she was feeling. “That’s not the first time I’ve seen a scar from a bullet wound, McNeal.”
“It’s the first time you’ve seen mine.” She looked away, no longer the tough-talking cop with a war story, but a woman faced with a disfiguring scar. “It’s ugly.”
The contrast between woman and cop struck him. As he watched the emotions scroll across her features, a fierce protectiveness rose up inside him. He couldn’t let her statement stand, he realized. Even if the scar was bad, he wanted her to know it didn’t detract from her in any way. Not as a cop. Certainly not as a woman. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said gently.
“How do you know?” she snapped.
The ice in her voice surprised him. Nick pulled in a breath, realizing for the first time the depth of her emotional wounds—and how little he knew about that night.
“You want to tell me what you mean by that?” he asked.
A dry smile curved her mouth. “Are you asking as my superior who needs to gauge my frame of mind, or as a friend, Nick?”
“How about a little of both?”
Sighing, she pulled one of the throw pillows against her and frowned at him. “I got hit the same night Danny Perrine was shot. Bullets do a hell of a number on flesh. End of story.”
“I already know that, but why the guilt? Why won’t you talk to me?”
She shot him a dark look. “I don’t want to get into this. Not now.”
“We work together. I need to be able to trust you. I deserve an explanation.”
She looked down at her hands, stilled them by smoothing the pillowcase. “I froze up, Nick. I screwed up and got hit. I let Danny Perrine take a hit. How do you expect me to feel?”
“Frank said it wasn’t your fault.”
“According to Internal Affairs. But they weren’t there.”
“You feel differently?”
“If I’d reacted differently, Danny wouldn’t be stuck in a wheelchair with a bullet in his spine. I’d still have my career. And I wouldn’t be here in Logan Falls trying to get back everything I’ve lost. Does that answer your question?”
“It doesn’t tell me why you feel responsible.”
“I made a mistake. It’s as stupid and simple as that.”
“So you’re trying to make up for your so-called mistake by putting yourself on the line? By taking unnecessary risks? We both know that’s not going to change what happened.”
“I’m dealing with this the only way I know how.”
“What are you trying to prove, McNeal?”
Her eyes heated. “I don’t have anything to prove.”
“I think you do. Only it’s not to me or Frank or Internal Affairs. You’ve got something to prove to yourself.”
“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“You’re getting defensive,” he pointed out.
“Damn right I am.”
“Look, I know what it’s like to feel responsible for something, even when you’re not.”
“You know, Nick, I’ve had just about all the cop psychoanalysis I can take.” Jerking her robe off the back of the sofa, Erin rose abruptly and headed toward the kitchen, pulling it over her shoulders as she went.
Nick knew better than to go after her. She looked shaky at best. He didn’t want to take a chance of her falling apart on him. But he’d reached the point where he needed answers about what had happened that night. “You can’t let the guilt eat at you. You can’t keep blaming yourself. You’re going to end up getting hurt.”
“What happened today wasn’t my fault.”
“I’m not talking about today.”
At the kitchen entry, Erin spun to face him. “Wouldn’t you be a little disturbed if you were responsible for putting your partner in a wheelchair? For ending a man’s career? Wouldn’t you feel a little guilty if he hated you so much he couldn’t look you in the eye? That his wife couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice when you called to check on him? That the only reason you continue to put yourself through it is because you feel so guilty you can’t stand it? His kids look at me like I’m the devil incarnate, Nick. How would you feel?”
He crossed the space between them. “Maybe I’d feel guilty. But I don’t think I’d be blaming myself when I’d been cleared by a bunch of veteran cops who know the ropes.”
“I walked into a dangerous situation that night with one goal in mind—to make that bust no matter what the cost. I didn’t consider the possibility that someone might get hurt. I didn’t think about Danny. Or his wife. Or his two kids.”
“A cop can’t be effective if he dwells on—”
“I froze up! I didn’t react until both of us were down.”
“Why did you hesitate, McNeal?”
She blinked at him as if the question had stunned her. “The shooter…he was just a kid….”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “You’re not the only cop who’s ever hesitated for that reason,” he said.
“Look, Nick, I know you’re trying to help. But you’re not. I don’t need your amateur-shrink bull. I’m handling this.”
He snorted. “I can tell.”
Her nostrils flared. “Spare me the sarcasm. This is hard enough without you—”
“All I’m trying to tell you is that you don’t have to deal with this alone.”
“I’m the one who got my partner shot. Who else should deal with it but me?”
“Danny Perrine wasn’t the only one who got shot that night, McNeal. You took a bullet, too. You risked your life and you’ve got the scar to prove it. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe both of you are alive today because of you?”
“That sounds really good, Chief. It even makes me sound heroic. But we both know that’s not how it really happened, don’t we?”
Nick raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You know, McNeal, if we were anywhere but Logan Falls, I’d yank you off the street so fast you’d get whip-lash.”
A short laugh broke from her throat. “Careful, my confidence is soaring.”
“You’re not helping matters.”
“Leave it alone, Nick. I don’t want to discuss this with you. I don’t want to—”
“Deal with it? Level with me? Be truthful with yourself?”
“How about all of the above?”
“You’d rather wallow in guilt? Funny, but I didn’t peg you as the wallowing type.”
“That’s not fair. None of this has been easy to take.”
“Ah, there you go again, talking about fair. Haven’t you learned by now that fair doesn’t enter the picture when it comes to real life?”
“I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”
She turned to walk into the kitchen, but Nick stopped her by grasping her biceps and turning her toward him. Couldn’t she see he was trying to help her?
“You’re a good cop,” he said. “You’re gutsy and brave, with a bright future. But you’ve got to give yourself time to heal. You’ve got to accept the reality that sometimes bad things happen that we can’t control.” The statement made him grimace when he thought of his own life, and the harsh reality of the last three years. But he knew now wasn’t the time to address his own demons. Not when it was so much easier to address hers.
When she turned to him, Nick noticed the tears shimmering in her eyes. He stared at her, stricken, torn between the need to comfort and the stark, sudden need for distance.
“Don’t cry on me now, McNeal.”
“I’m not crying.” She tried to turn away to keep him from seeing her tears, but he held her fast.
“You’re part of my team,” he said. “Your safety is my responsibility. I’m not the enemy here. Do you understand?”
“I can’t talk about this right now.” She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “Let go of me so I can humiliate myself in peace.”
He knew better than to let her tears get to him. But to see the strong woman before him reduced to a trembling bundle of raw emotions tore his judgment to shreds. He didn’t like thinking of the physical pain the bullet had caused her or the mental anguish she’d lived with because of it. He sure didn’t want to think about the way he was reacting to her. Not physically. Certainly not emotionally.
Damning the consequences, he reached for her. “Come here.”
She resisted for an instant, then took a tentative step toward him. “Nick—”
“Shh.” Her body came against his like a soft, liquid jolt of electricity. Pleasure wound slowly through him. The smell of clean hair and womanly flesh penetrated his resistance. Softness and heat tore down his defenses. Awareness spiraled through him when her arms went around his neck.
Nick closed his eyes against sensations and feelings he had absolutely no desire to examine. Not with Erin McNeal. A woman who could destroy every wall, every line of defense he’d built in the last three years. But the warmth of her body heated his blood. The softness of her breasts against his chest tormented him in ways he’d forgotten existed.
She murmured something against his shoulder, but Nick didn’t comprehend the words. All he could think of was that he wanted her closer, wanted to feel her against him, caution be damned.
Helpless to keep himself from it, he tightened his arms around her. Awareness and pleasure melded into need. His hand went to the back of her head. He stroked her hair. It felt like silk beneath his fingertips, and he marveled at the texture. Tilting his head, he pressed his cheek against her hair and took in her scent. Sweet. Mysterious. Titillating.
Arousal flared hot and deep in his groin. Need ate away at his resistance until it was little more than an annoyance he crushed with a single blow. All he could think of was that he wanted her body closer to his. His mouth against hers. Her flesh beneath his hands.
She sighed, and her body went fluid in his arms. His lips brushed against her temple. She shifted closer. Sensation crashed over him. Powerful. Shocking. He rode the wave, absorbing her essence, trying in vain to keep from falling into a crevasse he might not ever be able to climb out of.
* * *
Erin told herself it was just a hug. A comforting embrace given to her by a fellow cop who understood what she was going through. But she knew that wasn’t the truth. And she wasn’t brave enough to admit just how good it felt to be cocooned in his arms. Or how solid and arousing his body felt against hers. It had been so long since anyone had held her. Since a man had held her. Since she’d let anyone get close enough.
His hands skimmed down her back, and a shiver swept the length of her. She felt his lips against her temple. The warmth of his breath on her cheek. Her body tingled where he touched her. Warm. Reassuring. More erotic than a kiss. An alarm clanged somewhere in the back of her mind, but she silenced it. This embrace didn’t mean anything to either of them, she assured herself. They were cops, bound by understanding and what might one day become friendship. It wouldn’t hurt for him to hold her. It wouldn’t hurt for her to partake in this one, tiny mistake.
He shifted closer. For the first time she noticed his quickened breath. The fact that his hands had grown restless, his body hard against hers. Erin knew she should pull away and stop this before things got out of hand. She knew better than to give in to something as foolish as the need to be held, or, heaven forbid, the desire to feel his mouth against hers. Not this man. Not now. But it seemed as if Nick had cast some kind of spell over her. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t bring herself to deprive her body of his, even if it was the smart thing to do.
She closed her eyes, fighting the sexual tug, but her body betrayed her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She felt his hands at her sides, moving upward, brushing the outer curves of her breasts. Another shiver trembled through her. Then he was cupping her face, his dark eyes seeking hers. She knew what would happen next, and she dreaded it even as anticipation rampaged through her.
His mouth met hers with devastating gentleness that sent an explosion of desire through her body. A pang settled low in her belly, and she felt herself become aroused. The sheer power of her reaction stunned her, sent a spark of panic to a brain that didn’t want to believe she’d met a man who could kiss her with such utter perfection that she forgot who she was. Surely not this small-town cop who, as a man, could never deal with her career.
Breaking the kiss, Erin moved away from him and stumbled back.
Nick let her go, dropping his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Embarrassment flooded her as the realization of what had just happened hit her full force. She stared at him, taking in the tightly clenched jaw, the knowledge darkening his eyes, all the while painfully aware that her body wanted more.
“I shouldn’t have done that—”
“I shouldn’t have let it happen,” she said simultaneously.
“I’m your superior, for God’s sake.” Turning away, he faced the window and stared down at the street below. “I know better than to—”
“We made a mistake,” Erin interjected. “We’ll deal with it like adults.”
His expression was hard when he turned back to her. “Will we?”
“Yes.” She was still breathless, could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers, the need crawling inside her.
“I was out of line,” he said. “You were vulnerable—”
“I’m not vulnerable.”
Lowering his head, Nick cursed. “This can’t happen again.”
“It won’t,” she assured him, but her mind was still floundering. “I was shaken up. Let’s not make this any more complicated than it needs to be.”
He shot her a stony look that told her he wasn’t buying it. Then, turning abruptly, he started for the door. “Go to bed, McNeal. I’ll send Mrs. Thornsberry to stay with you tonight.”
Erin wanted to argue, but she knew better. She didn’t want Nick to come back. Not when her heart was still pounding and her lips tingled with the feel of his mouth against hers. Lowering herself to the sofa, she watched him walk out the door, wondering how in the world she was going to handle working for a man who made her lose control every time he touched her.
* * *
Nick had always prided himself on control. That’s what made it so impossible to believe he’d just gone against every shred of intelligence he’d amassed over the last thirty-eight years, and kissed Erin McNeal. His deputy, for Pete’s sake! A woman with a wild streak that ran right down the center of what was probably a very pretty back. What was the matter with him, reacting like an oversexed schoolboy, when he was grown man with a man’s responsibilities?
But Nick knew that kiss wasn’t the worst of it. He’d wanted her with the kind of urgency he hadn’t felt for…too long to acknowledge. If she hadn’t pulled away, he wouldn’t have stopped. Not with one kiss. Not even with two. How the hell was he going to handle this?
“Damn you, Frank,” he murmured.
Pausing at his truck, he risked a glance at the window of her second-floor apartment. The lights were still on. He was still aroused, and the frustration pounding in his groin annoyed him no end.
Gritting his teeth, he unlocked the truck door and slid inside. He’d have to be careful in the coming weeks. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, maybe he was more vulnerable than he’d thought. Not emotionally, he assured himself, but physically. After all, a man’s needs could be shoved aside for only so long. Nick needed female companionship. Stephanie would eventually get used to the idea of having a woman around. Maybe a woman would help fill the void in both their lives.
What Nick didn’t need was Erin McNeal. Just because she made him hot around the collar didn’t mean she was right for him. She was exactly the kind of woman he wouldn’t bring into Stephanie’s life. His little girl had already been hurt once by a reckless adult. He’d rip out his own heart before he’d let that happen again.
It struck him then that Erin was the first woman he’d kissed since Rita’s death. That it hadn’t been a chaste kiss disturbed him and made him realize he’d taken a step into yet uncharted territory.
Unexpectedly, the old, familiar pain stirred deep in his chest, the wound so newly healed that it still bled when probed. Nick rode the waves of pain, surprised by their force after three long years. The grief still cut him on occasion. Rita’s death had taken something vital out of him, bits and pieces that could never be replaced. Nick had vowed the day he buried her that he would never again put himself through the agony of loving someone.
Shoving thoughts of Rita ruthlessly aside, he muttered an oath, his voice sounding low and rough in the silence of his truck. Erin McNeal was off-limits. Not only to protect himself, but to protect Stephanie. After what had happened today, Nick knew with the utter certainty of a man who’d already experienced hell that Erin would hurt them both if he allowed it. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter how much he liked the way she looked, or respected her as a police officer, he could never allow himself to care.
Slamming the truck into gear, he pulled onto the street and started for home. No, he assured himself, he didn’t care about Erin. She didn’t need him looking out for her. If she wanted to self-destruct, that was her business.
Hopefully, he would be able to talk Mrs. Thornsberry into sitting with her tonight. Nick knew it was a cop-out, but he wasn’t up to it—even if Erin was one of his deputies. The fact of the matter was he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been prepared for that kiss. He’d seen the shock on Erin’s face as well. Another reason stacked on top of a dozen others to keep his distance. The more successful he was at avoiding her, he decided, the better off they’d both be in the long run.