Chapter Twelve
“This man is threatening me!” Charles II yelled, looking around at his other children. “You’re going to just sit there and let him manhandle me? Threaten my life?”
“I didn’t hear any threats,” Pierce said offhandedly. He shot Dane a mock-confused look. “You hear anything?”
But Dane moved to Nick’s side and said calmly, “Let him go.”
Nick didn’t even budge. He kept his grip on the jacket, bunching it in his fingers as he glared at Charles II. At his father. God, his father.
The old man didn’t give a shit about Nick; he just cared that he’d been duped. He just wanted revenge for being kept in the dark, being made to look foolish, not having any control. He was as awful as she’d said, as rancid as Pierce had warned . . . and they shared DNA. It made his stomach flip with nausea. His heart pounded hard. He wanted to hurt this man. Make him bleed. He wanted to pound him into the floor and make him beg for mercy.
“Nick,” Dane tried again.
“Let go of me this instant,” Charles II seethed at Nick, “or I’ll press charges.”
“You’d need witnesses to corroborate your story,” Dane said. “You won’t have any here. Not one of us. Understand?”
Charles II looked stunned.
Nick could barely breathe. It was as if everything he’d heard and seen and felt over the past week rose up in his core, an emotional tsunami, and swept him away. His body pulsed with energy, and his mind was focused on one thing: Charles Harrison II.
Charles came to stand behind Nick. “We won’t let him hurt her,” he said, and it sounded like a promise. He put a hand on Nick’s back and spoke to him quietly, as if he sensed Nick was about to lose it. “Let him go. This won’t accomplish anything.”
Nick drew a shaky breath and swallowed hard. He knew Charles was right, and that he’d be in serious trouble if he hurt a civilian, but he couldn’t help it. He took another deep breath. The thought of this powerful, hateful bastard going after his mom . . . “You stay away from her,” he growled, his fingers clenching tighter in the old man’s jacket. “You hear me? She wants nothing from you. She never did. You leave her alone, or so help me—”
“Nick.” Tess’s voice was soft, her big blue eyes pleading as she looked up at him from the sofa. “Please let go of him. We’ll all make sure she’s left in peace. I swear it.”
Something about her words, the tone of her voice, broke through the throbbing haze in his head. He released Charles II but gave him a bit of a shove as he did, sending him staggering backward to fall clumsily into the armchair.
“I’ll have your badge by the end of the day,” Charles II vowed.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Charles III said harshly. “Shut up already, for God’s sake. This is all even worse than I’d imagined it, solely because of you. I haven’t seen you like this since the day of your heart attack. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“He’d have to have shame to be able to do that,” Pierce remarked. “Or a soul.”
“You stop too,” Charles said to his brother. “It’s not helping. I asked you to be here as a core member of the family and to support Nick, not to toss gasoline onto the fire. Please hold back somehow.”
Pierce nodded and grumbled, “Sorry.”
“Now.” Charles looked from their father to Nick and back again. “Dad, he’s your biological son. What you choose to do with that information in the future is up to you, but it’s the truth. Maybe you two will come to some kind of understanding, maybe you won’t. I think with some time to process all this, both of you might find you feel differently than you do right now.
“But as for Maria . . .” Charles’s tone hardened as he held his father’s eyes. “You won’t go near her. Leave her be. This is official notice: if anything negative happens to Maria—or her husband, or her family—in any way, and it can be traced back to you? None of us—and I mean none of us—will ever speak to you again. And, on top of that, I’ll personally help Nick pursue any means of retaliation that fit the action.” He peered down at his father over the rims of his glasses. “I hope I’m making myself clear.”
Charles II opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again as he glanced at his children, who all nodded in solid agreement with Charles’s statement. Seeing their unified front, his jaw set and he sat up stiffly in his chair. “Fine.”
“She’s never asked for your money,” Tess pointed out. “She isn’t now. She wants nothing to do with you, or our family. You’d be the one dragging her back into this if you go after her, and that could make her change her mind. If she did, she’d have a case. She could sue you for all those years of child support, a whole list of things. Make this public, and make it ugly. You realize that?”
“I said fine,” Charles II growled, pure malevolence radiating from him. “I won’t pursue it. I’ll leave her be.” The old man glared at each of them, wanting them to make sure they felt his rage, but clamped his lips tightly together.
Nick felt a surge of emotion, a combination of gratitude toward his siblings, hatred for this man, and ambivalence about what would happen next. “How do I know he won’t do something anyway?”
“He has too much to lose if he does,” Dane said. “His entire family. Which he will, I promise you that.”
“Assuming he cares more about the family than vengeance,” Pierce said dryly. With a shrug, he added, “He doesn’t give a fuck about me, Abby, or my kids, but he cares about all of them, so Maria’s likely safe.”
“Well, while we’re all making things clear, this goes both ways,” Charles II said, rising again to look into Nick’s face. “What guarantee do I have that she, or you, won’t try to sue me for anything in the future? Decide you want a few bucks after all?”
Nick snorted and shook his head. “Huh. Good point.” He wanted to make this man twist. He grinned callously. “You know what? There is no guarantee, I guess. Funny how that works.”
The old man turned purple. “Then why should I listen to any of you?” he said. “Why should I—”
“He’s here to save my son’s life!” Charles shouted, and the room went still. “That’s why we found him at all—that’s why he’s here. You drive him away before the surgery, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you pay for that. So just stop this!” His eyes were wild, and his breath came in short, hard gasps. “Myles. That’s why he’s here. For Myles. Your fucking grandson. Can you ever think of anyone other than yourself, for just a few minutes?”
“Hey.” Nick turned to Charles and placed both hands on his shoulders. Jesus, the guy was trembling. Clearly he’d been pushed to the brink. “I won’t leave. I’m committed to this. I’ll do my part. Nothing could stop me. Okay? Take a breath.”
Charles looked at him, blinked and nodded, and took a deep breath.
“I know you’re on edge,” Nick said. “I’m sorry if this fight made you snap. I’m sorry for my part. But you’re right, gotta keep our eyes on the prize: getting Myles better.” He gave a little squeeze, then dropped his hands. “We’re all here for him. It’s going to happen. He’s going to kick ass and get better. It’s all going to be all right.”
“Thank you,” Charles said, and drew another long breath.
“Spoken like a true Harrison,” Tess murmured.
“I’m no Harrison,” Nick said, stepping back from Charles and looking around. “I’m just me. And right now, frankly . . . I’m not sure what to do with all this. But I’ll think about it later. Right now, my focus is doing my part for Myles. That keeps me on track. Gives me purpose in the middle of all this insanity.”
His siblings all looked at him with things like respect, gratitude, support.... The old man looked stymied and sour. Nick’s adrenaline ebbed, leaving him suddenly tired. He wanted to go back to his hotel room, lie in the dark and quiet. “I think we’re done here for tonight, right? I’m gonna go now.”
“Wait, stay a while,” Tess said, getting to her feet as Dane voiced the same.
“We’ll bring in something to eat,” Charles said.
“Or at least have some drinks,” Pierce added.
“No, not now, but thanks. I just need some air.” Nick shot a look at Charles II. What a loathsome piece of shit he was. All Nick wanted was to get away from him. “You’re on notice. Leave my mother alone.”
“And what about you?” Charles II asked. “Leave you alone too?”
Nick paused for a second. “What?”
“Merely an inquiry,” Charles II said. “Another talk is in order. You are my son. . . .”
“No, I’m not,” Nick snapped. “Lew Martell is my father. You were the sperm donor. I don’t want to know you any more than you want to know me.”
“You haven’t even given me a chance to know you,” Charles II said.
“Oh, please. Think tonight pretty much closed the door on that,” Nick said. “I’m not interested. So at least on that note, you were successful. I want nothing to do with you.” He walked to the door and said over his shoulder, “I’ll see Myles tomorrow, Charles.” He stopped in the doorway to add to the older man, “Stay away from my mother or I’ll hunt you down, Dad. I swear that on my life. Good night, everyone.”
* * *
Nick lay in the semi-dark for a while as he channel surfed. Nothing held his interest or could distract him; it was all like white noise, adding more static to what was already in his head. Finally, he muted the sound, leaving only the ghostly flickering light to play along the walls of the bedroom.
What a shit show that meeting had been. His biological father was every bit as awful as he’d been warned. As much as Nick wanted to know more, get answers to some burning questions, he knew he had to put as much space between himself and Charles II as possible. Asking things like “what drew you to my mother?” or “why did you pursue her at all?” or “what the hell were you thinking, hitting on the help, much less a woman twenty years younger than you?” would have to be stowed away.
He’d almost hurt him tonight. He’d wanted to, more than he was comfortable admitting. He was a police officer, for fuck’s sake. And more than that, he was a decent human being. He knew he was too reactive sometimes, but he always reined in his temper—made the fire that burned inside work for him, not against him.
But tonight, Charles II and his smarmy face and his pointed barbs and threats had brought out the worst in Nick, with record speed. It was more than protectiveness toward his mother, which of course was at the root of it. It was just gut reaction to the look in Charles II’s cold eyes, the haughty expression.... He’d almost lost his prized cool. He hated that. Now, that knowledge ate at him and made him restless. Like he couldn’t get away from himself.
Grunting in frustration, he aimed the remote at the flat-screen and turned it off, tossing the remote aside as darkness filled the room. Still the white noise whirred in his head. He wasn’t tired and knew he wouldn’t sleep well, so it’d be a long night. His mind was filled with images and words and emotions, and he needed to wade through them. He didn’t know what to do with it all. He didn’t even know where to begin.
His cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. Warily, he picked it up and looked.
Hi. Where are u? A text from Amanda.
He grinned and felt something like a flicker of light spark inside. He saw it was 9:30. She must be done with work. In my hotel room. Why, where are u?
In your hotel lobby, she wrote back. Heard things didn’t go well. Thought you could use a friend. Wanna go get a coffee? Or something stronger?
His grin turned into a smile as he sat up in the darkness. Yessss. I’ll be down in 5.
* * *
Amanda stole a glance at Nick from beneath her lashes and took a sip from her glass. The Riesling was cool and crisp as it slid down her throat. She and Nick had walked along the main street of town, quiet in the slight chill of the night, going over six blocks until they finally found a place that was open. It was an upscale wine bar—not Nick’s usual kind of place, and not hers either. He’d raised a thick brow at the door, mumbling about its clear hipster vibe. But he needed a drink, and desperate times called for desperate measures. So they’d gotten a table for two in the back of the dimly lit bar, and the now open bottle of Riesling sat between them on the round tabletop.
He took a first sip from his glass and said, “It’s not terrible.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“I wish it was a beer, but it’ll work.”
“That’s the spirit,” she said. “Take one for the team.”
He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. “I don’t have much spirit tonight. I’m likely bad company.”
“Nah. I’d tell you if you were.” She kept it light, hoping to break through his dark mood. She was on a mission tonight, and it was a simple one: distract Nick from his troubles for a few hours. Make him smile. Make him feel better. Because that’s what she did, what she was good at: making people feel better when they were hurting. It was one of the reasons she’d become a nurse; she was a natural caretaker. She’d had years of experience, smoothing tensions between her parents, then friends, anyone really. She wasn’t a doormat, or a blank listening ear. She cared about people, knew how to make them calm down, relax.... She was a soother, a healer. Nursing had seemed the obvious career path. And that had its origins in her personal life.
Nick, whether he wanted to admit it or not, needed soothing. Some care. He needed someone, something, to lean on right now. Why not her? They got along, she was good at helping others, and she wanted to give that to him now. And yes, she was drawn to him, attracted to him, and interested in him. She wasn’t going to lie to herself. He was stunningly gorgeous, they had chemistry, and she was only human. She was glad he’d taken her up on the offer to come for a drink.
Staring into his glass, he took another sip, set it down, and sat still for a long beat. Finally, the side of his mouth curved up a bit. “I appreciate your coming to see me and dragging me out here.” His warm brown eyes lifted to meet hers. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She gestured over her royal blue scrubs as if presenting an award and added, “Hey, I wore my sexiest outfit for you. Least I could do.”
That brought on a full smile, the kind that had the habit of stealing her breath. “Amanda,” he said, “you’re sexy in anything. Because you’re sexy. Period, the end.”
She felt a soft blush creep up her throat and heat her cheeks. “Well, thanks.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Hard to feel like a seductress in scrubs, but I’ll take your word for it.”
He grinned and held up a hand as if swearing an oath. “I’m a man of honor. My word is gold.”
“Good to know.” She grinned back and took another sip of wine. “I’d love to see you in your uniform. Bet you’re unbearably hot.”
His brows shot up. “You think?”
“Not a doubt in my mind.”
“You’re one of those women? Get all hot and bothered over a man in uniform?”
“No, actually. But if it was you in uniform? Something tells me I might be. Got any pictures to show me so I can decide?”
He chuckled low and pulled his phone out of his pocket. She stole another sip of wine, gazing greedily at his handsome profile as he scrolled until he found what he was looking for. He held out his phone to her and said, “Me and a few of the guys at a charity event a few months ago.”
She leaned in to look. There was Nick, out in the sunshine, a few palm trees in the distance, hot as hell in his full police uniform, standing with three other uniformed officers who may as well have been invisible. His tall, dark good looks eclipsed theirs completely. “Oh, holy hell,” she breathed. Then, realizing she’d said that out loud, she blushed. When she met his eyes again, he was watching her, his eyes sparkling. “You cut a fine figure there, Officer.”
“Thanks.” He put his phone away and leaned in. “So I’m hot in my uniform?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know. You’re adorable in yours.”
“Adorable?” She snorted out a laugh. “Really?”
“I think so. You’ve got that sweet-yet-sexy combo going on. Throws me for a loop.” He smiled earnestly, and her heart did a little fluttery thing that made her feel giddy. “Have you ever been to Miami?”
“No. I’ve been to Orlando once, but never got that far south.”
“Disney?”
“Yup. With the family when I was ten.”
“Been a while, then.”
“Yup again.” She played with the edge of the coaster beneath her glass. It was thick cardboard, sturdy. “I’ve always wanted to go to Key West. That’s on my bucket list.”
“It’s gorgeous there,” he said approvingly. “You’d love it.”
“How many times have you been?”
“A bunch. Seven or eight times, maybe? I love it there too.”
“Color me jealous,” she sighed. “Then again, I’ve barely been anywhere.”
“Not a big traveler?” he asked.
“Nope.” She picked up her glass again. “Money was a little tight growing up. Then I went to college, then nursing school, then started working. . . .” With a sigh, she took a sip. “Here I am at thirty-two, and I’ve barely been anywhere. I need to do something about that someday.”
“Then do it.”
“Oh, okay, poof! I’m going on a trip.”
“Hey. Money was tight growing up for my family too. I get it.”
The music over the sound system changed, the jazz saxophone replaced by the tinkling of piano keys. “When you’ve grown up like we have,” she ventured, “to see how people like the Harrisons live . . . it’s another world. Another universe.”
He nodded slowly. “Bizarro world.”
“And now you’re part of that.” She pushed a stray lock of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “That must be crazy. Trying to wrap your head around that.”
His eyes snapped up to hold hers, narrowing with intensity. “Yes. And the truth is . . . I’m not doing a good job of it. I don’t know what to do with all this. I don’t know how I fit in there, what they all expect of me now, what my real family back home thinks now, what I’m supposed to do going forward. . . .” He heaved out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “It’s noisy in my head when I try to figure it all out. So I’m just . . . kind of not thinking about it for now. Actually, I’m kind of avoiding it.”
“I’d say deal with it however you need to. It’s a lot to process.”
“I’m focused on the transplant. Getting my part done. Thinking of Myles.”
“Those are all good things to focus on.”
“They’re the only things that are important, and they’re the only things I have any actual control over.” His mouth flattened into a hard line. “The rest of it is drama. I don’t do drama. Yet here I am, stuck in the middle of a huge drama. I hate it.” He looked to her, deep into her eyes, as if he’d find some answers there. She met his gaze and smiled back, which brought a small smile from him before he said, “I was up in my hotel room drowning in it tonight. Your text was like a life raft. Thank you.”
She leaned closer and covered his hand with hers. “You’re welcome.”
He laced his fingers with hers, setting off sparks of warmth in her core. His voice dropped low as he said, “You’re a fantastic woman, Amanda. And, added bonus, I really like looking at you.” He squeezed her hand gently, making desire shoot through her veins. “And touching you. And kissing you.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said, “since that’s all very mutual.”
His eyes seemed to get even darker, his intensity off the charts. “There’s nothing more I’d like to do than take you back to my room and lose myself in you tonight.”
Her breath stuck in her lungs and her mouth went dry. Her panties liquefied.
“But I’m not going to do that,” he said. “Because I’m leaving in a few days, on Sunday. I don’t know when I’ll be back, and when I do come back, for how long. And I . . . I don’t know.” He gave her hand a little squeeze, then pulled his away. “Don’t want to jump too fast here, you know? No matter how right it feels. And it does feel right, but I also know I’m a little messed up right now. So that’s not fair to you.” A self-deprecating grin curved his mouth, showcasing his dimple. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m trying to be a gentleman, even though the truth is I really don’t want to be. Because the idea of asking you to come back to the hotel with me tonight is so damn tempting. You are so damn tempting.”
She just nodded, not sure what to say. She wanted him too. The racing of her heart and the pulsing between her legs were proof of that. The chemistry was insane, the desire was clearly mutual . . . but yeah, it would be too much too soon if they jumped into something so quickly. She’d known him only a few days, strange as that seemed. She was comfortable with him. She trusted him enough to know she’d be safe with him if she did go to his hotel room. But still, cooler heads had to prevail.
Or . . . did they? Life was short and precarious. Her job reminded her of that every single day. “Nick,” she murmured. “I’m a big girl.”
He stared at her.
“I’m fine with . . . well, whatever. But you’re more than a little messed up right now,” she said kindly. “You’re drowning—you just said it yourself. So I’m going to be the gentleman, and not take advantage of you while you’re emotionally vulnerable. Because that would only . . . well, I don’t see that ending well.”
He stared at her, clearly conflicted. She understood it since she was battling the same thing: giving in to lust and desire versus being a moderate, levelheaded adult.
“For now . . .” She reached for his hand again, caressing his warm skin, keeping her eyes on his long fingers and how they looked and felt against hers. “Let’s just hang out when you’re here. Get a drink or a meal. Have some laughs. Steal some kisses. And if something more happens, it happens. Just know that I’m fine. I’m very clear on your being noncommittal and why. I’m not looking for a relationship either. Okay?”
He kept staring at her, his searing gaze hot and wanting. “You don’t play fair.”
She blinked at that. “What? I’m just being open and honest, same as you.”
“I know. And now I just want you even more. Damn you.” His eyes sparkled and he grinned. “You say you’re fine. Does that mean I’m not fine?”
“I don’t see how you can be,” she said. “I think it’s like you said yourself, there’s a crapload of stuff going on. Not being fine seems like a normal reaction to me. I’d think you were nutty if you were totally fine. And I don’t want to make things any more complicated for you. You and me—free and easy. I don’t want you jumping into something you might regret later and resenting me somehow.”
“Amanda.” He said it like a command, and his eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t regret sleeping with you. Ever. Impossible. In fact, my time with you has been the only good thing about coming to New York. Yes, I’m insanely attracted to you, but I also like you. A lot.”
She smiled, ignoring the fluttering of her heart, the butterflies going crazy in her stomach, and the low, insistent throbbing between her legs. “Well. That’s good to hear. For what it’s worth, same here.” Hearing him say things like that was making her dizzy. She withdrew her hands, grabbed her glass, and took a long swallow of wine.
He did the same, knocking back most of his glass. With a wry grin, he reached for the bottle and topped off her glass, then refilled his. “If we lived in the same place, we wouldn’t be dancing around this. I’d seriously be trying to date you.”
“But we don’t, so that’s that. Which is likely for the best. Takes the pressure off.” She noted the look he gave her as she added ruefully, “It’s kind of funny . . . because if we lived in the same place, and you tried to date me, I’d say no. So we wouldn’t even be dancing around it. It’d be a done deal.”
Nick’s jaw dropped in open surprise. “Excuse me?”
Amanda bit down on her lip. “Sorry. Did that sound bad?”
“Um, yeah. A little.” He gaped, searching her face. “You wouldn’t want to date me, I got that right?”
“Well . . . yeah. I mean, no.”
“Can I ask why?”
She sighed. This was going to go south fast if she wasn’t careful with her words. “I don’t date first responders,” she said softly. “Cops, firemen . . . men who put their lives on the line over and over. It’s a rule of mine.”
Something shuttered in Nick’s eyes, making her wince.
“Please let me better explain,” she said.
“No need,” he said, his voice clipped. “It’s the danger factor, right?”
“Right. Yes. That. I can’t . . .”
Nick sat back in his chair, jaw set tight. His long fingers played along the stem of his glass. “I understand.”
She sighed. She felt her rule was valid, but could see how put off Nick was. “If I’ve offended you, I don’t mean to. That’s the last thing in the world I want to do,” she said. “I totally respect and admire what you do. What all of you do. But to get emotionally invested, involved . . . I just can’t. I won’t. It’s too big a risk. I’m just being honest with you.”
His dark eyes blazed. “No, I get it now. It’s been okay to flirt with me because I’m leaving. Free and easy, like you said.”
Something in his gaze made her skin flush with heat. Was he mad, judging her, or just hurt? She didn’t know, but his mood had shifted and it was palpable. “Well, can I remind you that you’re the one, on the very first night, who made it clear you were leaving and for me to have no expectations. Right?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he nodded. “Yup. True.”
“So . . . you seem annoyed with me about that right now, and I’m sorry, but you really shouldn’t be.” Her voice felt smaller in her throat. But dammit, she was entitled to her feelings. “You said you’re always honest. I am too.”
He drew a long, slow breath as he looked at her. Finally he said, “You’re right.”
“Okay. So . . .” She lifted her glass and took a drink. Suddenly she wanted to gulp straight from the damn bottle.
“So, your ex-boyfriend,” Nick said. “Not a cop or a fireman, I gather.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Was he a doctor?”
“Noooo, I don’t date doctors. Or surgeons. Walking ego trips with God complexes. No thanks.”
His eyes narrowed. “Your list of who you won’t date seems to be bigger than who you would.”
“Not true! I just . . . have some rules in place. For self-protection. Nothing wrong with that,” she asserted.
“I’m just wondering what kind of guys you do allow in.”
She stopped at that. Boring ones, she had to admit to herself. Safe ones. “Justin was an accountant.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Yaaaawn.”
Amanda giggled. “Yeah, a little. But he was nice. He treated me fine—I had no complaints there.”
“Glad to hear it.”
She shrugged.
“You dumped him anyway, though,” Nick noted.
“I didn’t dump him! I ended the relationship, and for good reasons.”
“He must’ve sucked in bed, then.”
“That had nothing to do with it,” she said, but felt a flush creeping up her chest.
“If the sex is amazing, the person who gives it to you is a lot harder to give up.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she grumbled, suddenly feeling sheepish.
“Was he good in bed?” Nick’s question took her off guard, jolting her. His dark, commanding eyes held hers. “Did he rock your world?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” she admitted. “It was . . . fine, but no real fireworks. There, I admit it, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
He nodded and leaned in, a new expression on his face. Something fierce, something like determination, and his eyes sparked with confidence. “Amanda . . .” He dropped his voice low, so she had to lean in to hear him. “When’s the last time a man made you scream because you’d lost your mind to passion?” He grasped her hand and rubbed his thumb ever so lightly along her palm, sending shivers through her that zinged all her most sensitive spots. “What I want to hear is: when’s the last time a man made you come so hard you could barely breathe?”
Her tongue turned to lead in her mouth as she gaped at him. She cleared her dry throat and squirmed in her seat. The sinful look on his face, the seductive tone of his voice . . . it was like he’d spun shimmering strands of sexual energy around her, drawing her in to his web of temptation. She was so wet now it was embarrassing.
“Tell me. Has anyone ever made you feel like that?” He was relentless. She couldn’t break the gaze, or even move. “Has any man ever worshipped you properly in bed? Turned you into a clawing, panting animal, working on nothing but feeling?”
She felt exposed. And crazy turned on, and a little mad, and confused. But she couldn’t break away. He’d put her under a spell. Hypnotized her with raw sex appeal.
And he didn’t let up. He held her gaze for a long beat, still lightly stroking her palm with the pad of his thumb, sending shivers through her with every featherlight stroke. “I’d do that to you. Make you feel all those things. And I think you know it.”
She stared back, her heart pounding wildly as she tried to breathe.
“I’d give anything to see you lose yourself like that.” His voice was as seductive as his eyes . . . but he released her hand and leaned back. His gaze narrowed. “But for all your bold talk, I think you’re scared of that. I think you’re scared of guys who make you feel wild. So you’ll put me off because I’m a cop. Easy to do. Right?”
“Wh-what?” she stammered.
“That’s what you just said. I’m not a viable candidate. I’m just in a box with a label: ‘Cop, Stay Away.’” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And you’re entitled to your reservations, but I’m sorry, I am offended. I’m proud to be a cop.”
Heat flooded her face as she pulled back. “You should be.” She felt like she’d been driving a car at a hundred miles an hour, then crashed into a cement wall. She shook her head to clear the haze of lust, the spell he’d cast. Damn him. “I . . . I never insulted your profession.”
“No, you didn’t. But a blanket statement like ‘I don’t date cops’ just . . . it sucks. You get that?”
He’d toyed with her. The man had fucking toyed with her. Her insides started to shake, and not from want now, but from anger. “I don’t have to justify my reasons to you, though I tried to explain.” With a shaky hand, she reached out and drained the rest of her glass. “In fact, I don’t have to justify a damn thing about myself. To you or anyone else.” Other retorts ran through her head, but the overwhelming response was one of humiliation. He’d reprimanded her, but first he’d aroused her like crazy before throwing her into the wall. That was a mindfuck. She didn’t do head games. Not ever.
She reached for her bag. He said her name softly, but she ignored him. She felt his eyes burning into her as she rummaged through it, fighting the surge of adrenaline that had her heart pounding at top speed. He said her name again, more insistently, and she ignored him. Finally, she found her wallet and dropped a twenty on the table. “Hot no-strings fling? No problem. Mind games? Big problem. Guess we’re done. See you around, Officer.” Grabbing her coat, she sprang up and marched out of the bar without a look back.