CHAPTER 6
Erin didn’t want to think about the kiss. She didn’t want to deal with the reality that in the instant Nick’s mouth had been pressed against hers the world had melted away and nothing existed except the moment between them. The ramifications of that line of thinking were too dangerous—even for a risk taker like herself. To acknowledge that he’d been on her mind every waking hour since was to admit she was susceptible to him. That she’d wanted him to kiss her. That she wanted him to kiss her again.
She refused to believe any of those things.
Erin figured she was getting pretty good at denial.
As she left the town limits and drove toward his house, she told herself the only reason she was going to Stephanie’s party was for the little girl’s sake. She might be a difficult child, but considering the hand she’d been dealt—namely the death of her mother and a devastating spinal injury—Erin couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t ignore her birthday. Steph needed every ounce of kindness the adults around her could give.
Erin knew it would only make things worse if she alienated herself from Nick. He might have the wrong idea about her, and they might have different philosophies on police work and law enforcement in general. They’d definitely made a mistake with the embrace and that fateful kiss. But he was still her boss, and this job was too important to blow because of something as silly as a kiss. Come hell or high water, she was going to make it work.
Just because she’d barely seen him in the last week didn’t mean that encounter had affected their professional relationship. It didn’t mean he was avoiding her. Or that she couldn’t look him in the eye. They were adults, she told herself for the hundredth time. They could handle this. Dammit, she could handle it, even if he couldn’t.
Shoving thoughts of Nick aside, she looked down at the wrapped package on the passenger seat beside her and smiled. It had taken her most of the day yesterday—her day off—and a trip to Chicago, but she’d finally found the perfect gift for Stephanie. A veil of satisfaction settled over her; she couldn’t wait to see that little girl smile.
Five minutes later, she pulled into the driveway and parked next to Nick’s Suburban. Though it was early evening, she’d expected to see kids playing on the swing set or shooting baskets in the hoop by the garage. But the yard was deserted. Bandito grazed contentedly near the fence, swatting flies with a tail that was a little too long, a little too tangled. There were no laughing children. No games of hide-and-seek. No adults lounging in lawn chairs. Beside Nick’s Suburban and Mrs. Thornsberry’s old Buick, the only other car there was Hector’s.
Lifting the package, she got out of the cruiser and made her way to the front door. She told herself she wasn’t nervous about seeing Nick. She wasn’t here to see him, though the fact that she would was inevitable. Still, the thought of facing him after the kiss they’d shared made her palms sweat.
She told herself it was silly to get nervous over a friendly embrace that had gotten out of hand. This was a kid’s birthday party, for goodness sake. Erin was on her dinner hour and only had about forty-five minutes before she had to get back to her shift. Enough time, she mused, to give Stephanie her gift and grab that piece of cake Mrs. Thornsberry had promised. And maybe even show Nick she wasn’t avoiding him—since that kiss obviously hadn’t meant a thing to either of them.
Wiping her damp palms on her uniform slacks, Erin rang the bell. Her heart stopped dead in her chest when the man in question opened the door. She’d never seen Nick out of uniform, and the sight of him made her feel light-headed. It didn’t surprise her that he looked even better in faded jeans. The black Polo shirt he wore made his eyes look darker. She wondered if he was one of those people whose eyes changed with their moods.
For several long seconds she stood silently, praying he didn’t see the color she felt rising in her cheeks. “Hi,” she said, hefting the package. “I wanted to bring this by.”
“McNeal,” he acknowledged finally, eyeing the package. “How’s the head?”
“Still pretty hard.”
He didn’t smile, but Erin saw the flash of amusement in his dark eyes. “Good thing, I guess, all things considered.”
The silence built for a moment. He made no move to invite her inside. Feeling awkward, she looked down at her boots.
“You were scheduled to work tonight,” he said.
She’d tried to convince herself his decision to schedule her for work didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he didn’t want to see her. Of course, she wasn’t at all concerned about that. Just because Hector’s car was in the driveway didn’t mean she should be invited to the party, too, did it?
“I’m on my dinner hour,” she said quickly. “I’ve only got a few minutes.” Not knowing what else to say or do, she shoved the package at him. “I wanted to make sure Stephanie got this.”
He took the box. “Uh…thanks. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“Great.”
Erin told herself she wasn’t disappointed that he wasn’t going to invite her inside. That she hadn’t wanted to see Stephanie’s eyes light up. Or see Nick smile. She’d only known them a little over a week. It wasn’t like she was a friend he would invite to his daughter’s birthday party. Still, the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach was acute.
“Oh, Erin!”
She jumped at the sound of Mrs. Thornsberry’s voice, and watched the woman approach. “I’m so glad you came. I had to fight off Hector to save you a piece of cake. I hope you like German chocolate.”
Nick frowned. “She’s on duty, Em.”
“For heaven’s sake, there aren’t any rules against police officers indulging in birthday cake while on duty.” Mrs. Thornsberry smiled sweetly at Erin. “There’s a big piece with your name on it in the kitchen.”
Erin returned the smile, torn between not wanting to irritate Nick and appeasing the nanny. She’d wanted to give Stephanie the gift herself, but he seemed adamantly opposed to her staying. “Thanks, Mrs. Thornsberry, but—”
“Nick, where are your manners?” the older woman scolded. “Aren’t you going to invite her in?”
Nick shot the woman a dark look.
“For goodness sakes, she’s got time for a piece of cake.” Giving him an annoyed glance over her shoulder, Mrs. Thornsberry headed for the living room.
Erin’s discomfort grew. Nick obviously wasn’t happy to see her. It was clear he didn’t want her there. Glancing back at her cruiser, she took a step back. “I’ve got to get back—”
“It’s all right.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come on in.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude.”
His gaze locked with hers. Erin felt stripped bare by the power behind it. She’d never had a difficult time with eye contact, but Nick’s gaze was so intense she couldn’t hold it.
“I figured we probably couldn’t avoid each other much longer,” he said in a low voice.
She looked anywhere but into those dark, dangerous eyes of his. “I wasn’t—”
“Avoidance probably isn’t a good strategy, anyway, considering we work together.”
Heat suffused her cheeks. Something warm and jumpy fluttered in her chest when images of the kiss came to her unbidden. The feel of his mouth against hers. The way he’d wrapped her in his arms. The hardness of his body as he pulled her close.
She wanted to say something flippant, maybe just to prove to him that blasted kiss hadn’t affected her in the least, but the power of speech seemed to have left her. She stepped past him, and every nerve ending in her body went on alert when the tangy essence of his aftershave curled around her brain. The memory of the kiss sharpened, expanded, until it filled her with a longing she wanted desperately to deny.
Nick motioned toward the hall. “I appreciate you bringing a gift. It wasn’t necessary, but I’m sure Steph will like it.”
Feeling breathless and off-kilter, Erin started down the hall, wishing she’d heeded her own common sense and brought the gift by when Nick wasn’t home.
They reached the living room a moment later. Hector nodded a greeting from his place on the sofa. Mrs. Thornsberry looked on from the kitchen doorway. Steph sat in her wheelchair in the center of the room, surrounded by crumpled wrapping paper and assorted gifts.
“Hi, Steph,” Erin said. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.”
Her heart melted when the little girl smiled. Such a pretty smile. Too bad she didn’t do it more often.
“Dad got me a new easel for sketching,” she said. “Want to see my new pad?”
“Sure.” Erin took the pad from her, feeling inept, since she didn’t know a thing about sketching, and opened it to feel the texture of the paper. “Very nice. What do you sketch?”
“Sometimes I sketch Bandito. Sometimes my mom, but I’m not very good at faces, so I mostly just make stuff up. I’m pretty good at evening gowns and dresses, too.”
“Ah, a budding clothes designer,” Erin said.
Pride jumped into the little girl’s eyes, and her grin widened. “My dad says I’m going to give Liz Claiborne a run for her money.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Erin handed her the sketch pad. “Maybe you could show me your drawings sometime.”
“’Kay.”
Mrs. Thornsberry took Erin’s gift from Nick and set it on Stephanie’s lap. The little girl picked up the box and shook it. “Sure is big.”
Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, Nick smiled at his daughter, the first genuine smile Erin had seen since she’d walked in.
“Have at it, honeybunch.” His gaze met Erin’s, the smile he’d given his daughter still flirting with his mouth.
He had one of the nicest smiles she’d ever seen. Too bad he didn’t use it more often. Disconcerted that she’d noticed something she shouldn’t have, she looked away.
Stephanie stripped the paper from the box. Erin watched, anticipation building in her chest. The little girl’s hands stilled. The crackle of wrapping paper stopped abruptly. Dead silence fell over the room. Stephanie stared at the bright orange basketball, blinking as if someone had just played a cruel joke on her.
“It’s a basketball,” she said dully.
Erin’s stomach went into a slow roll. Praying her carefully chosen gift didn’t turn into a negative experience for the girl, she stepped forward. “I saw the hoop above the garage door outside and thought you might like to start playing again.”
The little girl stared at Erin, her blue eyes wide with the kind of hurt Erin knew too well. She’d seen that look before; she’d felt it in her own heart a hundred times in the last several months. She knew intimately the harsh realities of shock and pain and betrayal. Her heart cramped in her chest when those bottomless blue eyes filled with tears.
“I can’t play basketball anymore,” Stephanie said in a small voice. “My legs…”
“Oh, honey, you can,” Erin said gently. “You can take lessons if you want to. Disabled people play basketball and win marathons and do all sorts of fun things.”
“I want to, but I can’t.” Stephanie looked at her father. “Why did she get this for me? I can’t play anymore.”
Erin’s breath jammed in her throat. The pain struck with such force that she couldn’t breathe. All she could do was press her hand to her breast and pray the little girl would understand. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt this child who had already been hurt so brutally.
“Oh, my,” Mrs. Thornsberry said. “Steph, honey, I’m sure Erin didn’t mean—”
“I can’t play!” the girl cried. “I don’t want it.”
“But you can play, Steph,” Erin said. “Honey, I’ll teach you—”
“That’s enough.” Nick’s voice cracked through the air like cold steel being snapped in half.
The words jerked Erin’s gaze to his. His jaws were clamped tight, his hands clenched at his sides. He glared at her, his eyes as hard and infinitely cold as glacial ice.
She stared, vaguely aware that the room had become as quiet as a tomb. Hector gaped at her as if she’d just pulled out her pistol and shot the chandelier off the ceiling. Mrs. Thornsberry made a show of gathering gift wrap off the floor.
Erin looked at Stephanie. “I’m sorry,” she said helplessly.
Spinning the wheelchair, uttering a single, heart-wrenching cry, Stephanie fled from the room.
Mrs. Thornsberry and Nick started after her simultaneously, but the older woman stopped him. “Let me handle this one, Nick.”
He halted, uncertainty etched into his features as he watched her disappear down the hall.
Erin felt physically ill. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that the basketball would upset Stephanie. How could she have been so insensitive? Why had she expected that little girl to understand something no one had ever bothered to explain?
Erin’s gaze swept to Nick’s. She nearly winced at the anger she saw burning there. “I didn’t mean to upset her,” she said. “I didn’t think—”
“That’s your problem, McNeal,” he snapped. “You don’t think before you act.”
Erin stepped back, hurt that she’d been so terribly misunderstood, angered that her judgment had been called into question once again by a man whose opinion was becoming increasingly important to her.
Erin didn’t lose control of her emotions easily or break down in front of people at the drop of a hat. She’d learned the futility of tears at a very young age. But as she stood there taking in Nick’s angry expression, thinking of how badly she’d hurt that little girl, tears threatened her dignity.
“I’ve got to get back to work.” Turning abruptly, she started for the door.
“Wait a minute.”
Erin didn’t stop. She didn’t trust her emotions not to betray her, and he was the last man on earth she wanted to break down in front of.
Letting herself out through the front door, she sucked in a breath of cool night air, thankful to be out of the house. When she reached the grass, she broke into a run.
The front door slammed behind her. Nick, she thought, and quickened her pace. When was she ever going to learn not to push the envelope in everything she did?
Blinded by the tears building behind her eyes, she stopped at her cruiser and fumbled for her keys.
“I’d like a word with you, McNeal.”
She looked over her shoulder to see him crossing the lawn. Terrific. Here she was about to lose it, and he wanted a word with her. She had to hand it to him—the guy had great timing.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” she said.
“It’ll wait.”
For an instant she was tempted to ignore him, and get in the car and drive away. Of course, she didn’t. Erin had never been one to run away from her problems. So why did she feel the quiver of the fight-or-flight instinct every time Nick got near her?
She didn’t turn to face him when he came up behind her and stopped. “You want to tell me what that was all about?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why don’t you turn around and look at me?”
Unduly humiliated, she swiped at the tears with her sleeve. “I said I was sorry, Nick. What else do you want?”
“I’m just trying to understand you. I don’t have a clue why you bought Steph that ball. Why don’t you help me out?”
Slowly, Erin turned. Raising her chin, she met his gaze. “I gave her that basketball because I want her to know she’s strong and capable and doesn’t have to stop living just because she’s in a wheelchair.”
“She can barely stand, McNeal. How on earth is she supposed to play basketball?”
“It’s called wheelchair basketball, Nick. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it.”
“She’s not ready for that.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m her father,” he said. “I know what she’s been through. I know what she can handle.”
“She’s ready, Nick. She’ll eventually do it whether you’re ready to accept it or not. She can do a lot of things you don’t seem to be ready to accept. Once she realizes it, you’d better learn to deal with it, because she’s not going to stop.” The words came out in a rush. Harsh. Damning. So true her chest ached with the need to prove to him she was right.
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I spent two months coaching disabled children. Wheelchair basketball. Therapeutic horseback riding. Marathon racing. The kids love it. They love it! I’ve seen their faces light up. Their confidence bounce back. Their outlook on life improve dramatically.” Shaken by her own words and the emotion barreling through her, Erin broke off. She’d said too much, she knew, but once the words had started flowing, she hadn’t been able to stop.
Nick stared at her. “Stephanie is still adjusting. She’s…fragile. Not only physically, but emotionally. I won’t risk her getting hurt again.”
“At what cost to her?”
His face darkened. “You’re crossing a line you don’t want to cross, McNeal.”
“I’m good at crossing lines, Chief. That’s what I do best. For future reference, you should keep that in mind.”
“You’re reckless not only with your physical safety but with that smart mouth of yours.”
“You asked, Chief. I’m telling you what I think. You’re smothering that child—”
“She needs to be protected.”
“She needs to live her life to the fullest extent, risks be damned.”
“Recklessness is what put her in that chair to begin with!” Nick moved toward her, his jaw set. “I won’t let it happen again, so back off!”
His words and the anger behind them stopped her cold. Erin stood there trembling, breathing hard, wondering what Pandora’s box of pain she’d opened inside him.
As if realizing he was clinging to control by little more than a thread, Nick turned away abruptly. Walking to the front of the car, he put his hands on the hood and lowered his head.
For several long minutes the only sound came from the chirping of crickets. Erin leaned against the car door, shaken, aware that her heart was beating too fast. She wanted to tell him about the weeks she’d spent doing volunteer work at the Quest Foundation, an agency that specialized in helping disabled children adjust. But he was so angry she wasn’t sure it would make any difference.
Shoving away from the car, he straightened. Erin heard him sigh, then he approached her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s all right. This is none of my business—”
“I lost my temper. It’s not the first time, and it’s definitely not all right.” He bit out an oath, then gave her a canny look. “Stephanie is everything to me, McNeal. Everything. I love her more than life. She’s been through hell in the last three years. I don’t want her hurt again. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that from happening.”
His eyes were the color of midnight, and so tortured Erin wanted to reach out and touch him, just to let him know he wasn’t alone, even if she knew he wouldn’t believe it.
“I know you only want what’s best for her,” she said.
“That includes keeping her safe.”
“Nick, I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m just…”
“Impulsive?” One side of his mouth hiked into a half smile.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been accused of that.” Erin let out the breath she’d been holding, relieved that he’d purposefully quelled the tension between them. “How did she end up in the wheelchair?”
Nick waited so long before answering that for a moment Erin thought he wouldn’t answer at all. When he did, his voice was so low she had to lean forward to hear him.
“A car accident three years ago. My wife was killed. Stephanie received a spinal injury. She spent two weeks in intensive care.”
He looked out across the lawn, into the darkness. Even in profile, Erin saw the tight clench of his jaw and the raw emotion in the depths of his eyes. Her heart went out to him as she watched him struggle for words.
“Two weeks later, I had to look into those innocent eyes of hers and tell her she might not ever walk again. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” His laugh held no humor. “All she was worried about was whether or not she’d be able to take care of Bandito. That from a little girl who lived for basketball and horse shows, and who’d just lost her mother. Her courage humbles me.”
“I’m sorry, Nick. I know that must have been tough.” The words didn’t seem adequate.
“Yeah, McNeal, me, too. She’s a terrific kid.”
“I know.” Erin longed to reach out to him. To touch that strong jaw. Run her fingers over his shoulders until they were no longer rigid. To relax the clenching of his fists by taking his hands in hers. But she didn’t do any of those things because she knew that wasn’t what he needed.
His eyes met hers. Even under the cover of darkness, she felt exposed beneath that heady gaze. She wanted to tell him that disabled children could ride horses with the help of special equipment and adult spotters, but something told her now wasn’t the time. His emotions were too close to the surface, and she knew he didn’t want them prodded.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Erin gave him that time, knowing he needed it, not sure how she would react if the strong man she’d come to respect broke down. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to do the right thing if he did. The urge to touch him was too powerful, and at the moment she was feeling downright weak.
“Is there a possibility she could walk at some point in the future?” she asked.
“She’s had two operations already. Her neurosurgeon seems optimistic.”
“What about pain?”
“Thank God it’s minor and can be controlled with anti-inflammatory drugs, for the most part,” he said. “She has some feeling and a little strength in her left leg. But in the last six months, she’s developed a rare post-traumatic condition called syringomyelia.”
“One of the kids I worked with up in Chicago had the same condition. It’s where a tumor forms at an injury site or surgical site, right?”
His gaze sharpened, and Erin knew he hadn’t expected her to be familiar with the condition. “Most people haven’t even heard of it.”
“There’s an operation—”
“Laminectomy and duraplasty.” Nick grimaced. “The procedure’s untested. Risky.”
“What kind of risks?”
His mouth curved into that half smile again. “Ah, McNeal, you’re getting really predictable.”
“Best case scenario,” she pressed.
“Best case, Stephanie would regain feeling in her legs and be able to start physical therapy immediately. Worst case scenario is that the formation of scar tissue or further spinal cord damage could cause further paralysis. It could significantly lower her quality of life, possibly even her life expectancy. If we leave it be, she might eventually regain enough feeling to use a walker one day.”
Erin absorbed the words, wondering what she would do if faced with the same devastating dilemma. “You’re willing to settle for that?”
“I nearly lost her once.” Nick looked across the driveway to where Bandito grazed next to the fence. “I won’t risk losing her again.”
* * *
Nick wasn’t sure why he’d opened up to Erin. Maybe because he sensed she somehow understood, when most people couldn’t. Maybe it was the fact that she, too, was no stranger to tragedy. Maybe that kinship was what kept bringing them together.
It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone about the accident that had turned his life—and his daughter’s life—upside down. He didn’t like to talk about the dark months that followed, preferring to keep that era of his life buried. He’d spent months grieving. The kind of black grief that came with the loss of a soul mate. Grief he’d kept bottled because he couldn’t stand the thought of the poison inside him leaching out and affecting Stephanie.
Shoving thoughts of the past aside, Nick gazed at Erin. She leaned against the car, staring out across the lawn toward the pasture, where he could hear Bandito nipping the grass.
“I’m sorry I came down on you so hard,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”
“You know, Chief, I’m starting to get used to you yelling at me.”
She elbowed him lightly, and he knew she was trying to dispel the high emotion of just a few minutes earlier. For that, he found himself unduly grateful.
“I didn’t know you had worked with disabled kids,” he said after a moment. “That’s commendable.”
“The Quest Foundation works with all types of disabled children. Head injuries. Spinal injuries. Down’s syndrome. Muscular dystrophy. A few months after the shooting, I volunteered and spent a couple of months coaching wheelchair basketball. Teenagers mostly. A couple of times I went out to the equestrian center and spotted young riders. To say the experience was eye-opening would be an understatement.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Nick, those kids loved the horses! I guess it’s the same concept as bringing dogs into cancer wards and retirement homes. Like dogs, horses have an incredibly positive effect on kids.”
“You coached wheelchair basketball and yet the sight of Steph’s wheelchair still affected you when you first saw her.”
“It wasn’t the wheelchair.”
“What was it, then?”
Her teeth scraped over her lower lip. “Seeing the wheelchair made me…remember. The shooting. And Danny.”
“Flashbacks?”
Blowing out a sigh, she nodded.
“Ah, McNeal.” Lowering his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Post-traumatic stress?” he asked after a moment.
“Survivor’s guilt is what the department psychiatrist called it. I had nightmares, sleeplessness. A lot of guilt that just wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“That’s why you volunteered.”
She smiled, but there was no humor in it. “After living through something like that, I needed to give something back. The psychiatrist recommended this agency.”
“Did it help?”
“It got me through some tough months. For a while, I even made a difference. I made some of those kids smile. You know, Chief, I can be quite a clown when I put my mind to it.”
The thought elicited a smile from him. “I’ll bet.”
“But it didn’t take long for me to realize I couldn’t hack it. It just sucked too much energy out of me, and brought on too many flashbacks of the shooting. I know that sounds selfish, but after a while I just couldn’t do it anymore. Those beautiful children who’d been hurt so terribly, facing so much difficulty…”
“You weren’t selfish. Human, maybe. But the bottom line is you did it. You made a difference. That’s what’s important.”
Hearing a sigh shudder out of her, Nick studied her silhouette. His throat constricted when he saw the glimmer of tears on her cheeks. Had he caused that?
Ignoring the swirl of panic in his gut, he stepped away from the car and turned to her. Putting his finger under her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “What’s with the tears, McNeal?”
“I’m sure you’ll have a hard time believing this, but I never cry.”
“I’m sorry I seem to be so good at making you.” The urge to comfort was surprisingly strong, his resistance damnably weak. He was standing so close he could smell the familiar scent of her hair mingling with the sweetness of her breath. The light from a three-quarter moon illuminated her features just enough to let him see the caution in her eyes and the shape of her mouth. Sweet mercy, he wanted to kiss her.
Nick brushed his thumb over her cheek, catching a tear. He knew touching her was a mistake. Just as he knew holding her now would be a mistake that would lead to certain disaster. Everything inside him screamed for him to turn around and walk away. If he got involved with her in any way, she would wreak havoc on his life. But there was no way he could stand back and watch her cry while he did nothing.
Something powerful and fundamental stirred low in his gut. He didn’t even bother to fight it. He didn’t dare name it. He was tired of fighting when it came to this woman, tired of resisting what was quickly getting the best of him. She’d stripped him bare tonight, and he’d allowed it. What was one comforting embrace? One kiss between friends?
Nick figured he was getting pretty good at rationalizing.
“Come here,” he whispered.
Her startled gaze met his. “You know what happened the last time we tried this.”
“Yeah, and if I remember correctly, it was pretty damn good.”
He didn’t wait for her. Stepping closer, he cupped her face with his hands. He felt softness and tears. Smelled the enticing scent he’d dreamed about too many times in the last few days.
Shock registered on her face, but he didn’t care. She wasn’t the only one he’d shocked. He was most certainly shocking himself, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him, either.
Backing her against the car, Nick drew her mouth to his with slow deliberation. She didn’t close her eyes, and he saw them widen, heard her quick intake of breath, felt his own catch in his throat.
One moment she was as rigid as a board, the next like melted honey in his arms. Nick felt her go fluid as he coaxed her lips into submission. He opened his mouth and used his tongue, daring her to accept him. With a small sound deep in her throat, she parted her lips and welcomed him in.
Something hot and urgent broke open inside him, unleashing a part of him he’d kept bottled up for so long. Need and lust and something else he didn’t want to name sprang free.
He deepened the kiss, using his tongue, tasting the farthest reaches of her mouth. Her body felt lush and soft against his. Frustration burned in his groin as he pressed against her, but the contact only made him want more.
He heard a sound, realized he’d growled low in his throat. She shifted closer and another jab of lust arrowed through him. His hands slipped from her face, grazing her shoulders, stopping at her breasts. Her gasp ended in a groan when he cupped her through her uniform shirt. She arched into him, and Nick’s control teetered. His fingers went to the buttons. He fumbled, cursing silently when he realized his hands were trembling. One button sprang free. His overzealous fingers popped the next two. Then his hands were inside her shirt, seeking flesh, touching lace and softness and woman.
Her breasts were firm and round and high. Nick cupped her through her bra, marveling at her softness. He brushed his thumbs over the hardened peaks of her nipples. She shivered. He wanted to feel her flesh, warm and supple beneath his hands. He wanted to put his mouth on her.
Two more buttons went by the wayside. He struggled to find her bra clasp. Not in front. He slipped his arms around her. No rear closure. Frustration and a tinge of embarrassment pounded through him. “What kind of bra is this?” he whispered.
“Uh, athletic…”
Nick didn’t hear the rest of her response. Tugging the bra up over her breasts, he leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth. Erin cried out, arching, giving him full access. Her response splintered the remainder of his restraint. Caution shattered. He knew he was out of control, but she was so exquisite, so responsive, he gladly relinquished it, refusing to think of the consequences, of what he might be risking.
He didn’t remember closing his eyes. All his brain registered was that she was against him, and he was hard and pulsing and so ready he thought he might end it all right then and there. The realization stunned him, thrilled him. For the first time in years, he felt alive. Whole. On fire and burning out of control—
“Chief?”
The voice reached him as if through a fog. An instant later, recognition exploded in his brain. Stephanie’s nanny, for Pete’s sake! Nick scrambled back. Erin turned away in an attempt to conceal her state of undress. Shaken, dangerously aroused and more embarrassed than he’d been since the time in his teens when he got caught making out in the back seat of his mother’s car, he faced Mrs. Thornsberry.