CHAPTER 17

“Where is she? You’ve seen her, haven’t you?” an angry voice slurred from behind.

Julie froze where she stood on the sidewalk, a jolt of adrenaline lancing through her body. It was Don Rathbone, obviously strung out on something despite the early-evening hour. She pushed aside all the questions buzzing in her head—where he’d been hiding at the top of that list—and tried to focus on an escape plan.

She was about a block from Martins’s Market and another block from her car, where she’d left her cell phone. Stupid! The street was deserted, typical for an off-season weekday. The light was fading fast, and though the gas lamps were lit, the street was pretty dark. The bag full of groceries in her arms hampered any escape. She could use it as a weapon if she had to. Kicking herself for not immediately taking Cole up on his offer to teach her self-defense, she turned to face Don, hugging the bag protectively to her chest.

Still no one around. She needed to get back to where the most people could help her—to Martins’s Market. But Don stood between her and sanctuary.

“Someone told me she went to your office the night she left.” He stepped closer.

“Stay back, Don,” she warned. “There’s a restraining order that says you have to stay at least fifty yards away from me.”

“Like I give a crap about a restraining order.” Then, suddenly, his anger turned to a whine. “Tell me where she is. I just wanna talk to her. Please?” he wheedled.

“I don’t know where she is,” Julie said firmly, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. “Now let me pass.” Turning her back on him would be a mistake, so she nimbly stepped to the right, hopped off the curb, and started to walk briskly back toward Martins’s Market. She thought she’d given herself enough room to cleanly get by, but Don’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

“Ow! Let go!” Julie cried, her package falling to the ground as she tried to simultaneously twist away and smash her shoe down on his foot. Don deflected her attack and squeezed her arm harder. She opened her mouth, but he’d anticipated what she was about to do.

“Scream and I’ll break your arm.” Julie had no doubt he could make good on his threat, so she stopped moving and shut her mouth. “I’m not letting you go until you tell me where that lying bitch went.” His eyes were slits of anger and a bubble of spit formed at the corner of his mouth. Buy some time.

“I don’t know, Don. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” Julie was calm now. What was he going to do to her on a main street in plain sight? Surely someone would come along and she’d be able to call for help.

“Oh, come on, Doc. You can tell me,” he pleaded. The grip on her arm was like a vise now, cutting off the circulation, clenched on the exact same spot where he’d grabbed her two weeks ago. At this point, screaming wouldn’t help and breaking free wasn’t an option. Just as she was debating whether scratching his face or kneeing him in the groin was worth the price of a broken arm, a clear, calm voice rang out.

“Let her go, Don,” Hank Jacobs said.

Finally, after a too-long pause, Don let go of her arm. Quickly, she stepped away from him, feeling the circulation rush back through in an unpleasant pins-and-needles wave. As fast as she could, she raced to Hank’s side.

Don smoothed back his hair, trying to act nonchalant. “We were just having a friendly chat,” he slurred.

“Like hell we were! You grabbed me and threatened to break my arm!” Julie said, pressing a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating way too fast.

Don put his hands up in supplication, his face a picture of innocence. “Hey, just being friendly.” He started to back away.

“Don’t do it, Don,” Hank said before Don could make a run for it. “I have a warrant for your arrest. Let me take you in, nice and easy.”

Don snorted. “No way.” He kept backing up. Eyes trained on Don, Hank took Julie by the elbow and pulled her back so that she was slightly behind him, a signal for her to stay put. Slowly, she stepped backward, feeling the familiar bulge of the cobblestones underfoot.

Don turned and ran, but before he got even ten yards, Hank launched himself forward and tackled him to the ground. He pulled out his cuffs and began to read Don his Miranda rights. Then, one hand holding the big man to the ground, he calmly pulled out his radio and called for backup.

The whole procedure had taken less than thirty seconds.

It took longer than that for Julie to wrap her head around what had just happened.

By the time the other deputies showed up, Julie had collected herself. Mostly. Hank handed Don off to the others, who put him in the back of one of the cruisers to take to the station. She was shaking a little bit now, but she pushed back at the nervousness and took deep breaths.

“You okay?” Hank asked, kneeling down to pick up a few oranges that had spilled out of her grocery bag.

“Yes. Thanks to you.”

“Hurt anywhere?” he asked, picking up the bag.

She rubbed her arm. “A little, on my arm where he grabbed me. I’ll probably have bruising, but no major damage. I don’t need to go to a hospital, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I just need to know for my report,” Hank said. “Do me a favor. Take a picture of the bruise so I can pop it in the file.” He shook his head. “That’s the second time he’s attacked you. I hope to God it’s the last.”

“Me too.”

“Is your car here?”

“Over there,” she said, motioning with her head.

“Come on. I’ll walk you.” She nodded in agreement and they started down the street. She was feeling a little better now, not as dizzy. “Cole’s not going to like it that he touched you.”

That was the understatement of the year. Cole would hate it. A gnawing feeling began low in her stomach. For a second there, she’d forgotten that she’d have to face Cole. And this was after he’d warned her about this exact thing happening. He’d been bossy the first time Don had gone after her. Now, he’d likely be downright authoritarian. Not wanting to think about what he might say, she opened her car door.

“Thank you again, Hank.”

He placed the grocery bag in back on the passenger-side floor. “Get in and go straight home, you hear?”

The same words coming out of Cole’s mouth would have a completely different tone.

The thought of that made the gnawing feeling worse. But Hank was only trying to help, so Julie nodded. “I’d planned to do just that.”

She got into her car, shut the door, and slowly drove home.

Back at her house, Julie put the groceries on the kitchen counter and immediately went upstairs to change out of her work clothes. Don’s touch had made her feel soiled, and she just wanted to get clean. Tossing her skirt and blouse in a pile to be dry-cleaned, she threw on something comfortable—a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan. She wasn’t going anywhere, so she left off her shoes. Popping two ibuprofen pills to alleviate the ache in her arm, she slowly began to feel more like herself again.

Her chignon had come loose, so she rearranged it and returned to the kitchen to unpack her groceries. As she was putting a carton of milk in the refrigerator, Cole’s telltale knock sounded at the door. She’d learned to recognize the firm rap—always thrice in the same brisk pattern. Shutting the refrigerator door, she walked to the foyer to let him in.

As soon as she opened the door, Cole eyed her up and down, obviously checking to make sure she was all right. It was too much to hope that he hadn’t yet heard about the incident with Don. Of course he knew; he was the sheriff. So rather than saying anything, she took the opportunity to size him up, too. He was wearing a pair of broken-in jeans and a plain black T-shirt stretched tight over his chest. True to form, one stubborn lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, the black a stunning contrast to his piercing blue eyes. The man looked good, except for the scowl on his face that was obviously meant for her.

“Are you all right?” His voice was low. Leave it to Cole to say the right thing even when his body was giving off some serious warning signs.

Julie didn’t want a repeat of last time. “Before the questioning begins, would you like to come in?”

Wordlessly, he stepped inside. She shut the door and then began to walk back down the hallway to the kitchen, feeling his presence behind her the whole way. Once there, she turned and leaned back against the kitchen counter, wrapping one arm across her body.

“So?” She waved her hand impatiently.

He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, looking furious. A line formed between his eyebrows. “So what?”

“So aren’t you going to grill me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, deliberately challenging him.

The corners of his mouth turned down even farther. “Is that what you think I came here to do?”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’d planned on it,” he said, gritting the words out between clenched teeth. “But you’re making it difficult.”

“Well, we’re kind of past that, now, don’t you think?”

He crossed the room in two long strides, took her wrist, and pulled the cardigan down her shoulder to expose her upper arm. By now, pale purple marks were forming where Don had grabbed her, the spots where his fingers had bitten into her flesh darker in color.

“This,” Cole ground out, “is not okay.”

Julie looked up at him. His gaze was hyperintense. “Of course it’s not okay. But rather than lose your cool about it, why not figure out how to lock down a case against him?”

Something flickered behind his eyes—something frighteningly raw and shocking in its force.

“And I’m okay,” she said. He didn’t respond right away, seemingly in some kind of trance, his hand still encircling her wrist. “Cole, I’m fine. I swear.” Then he blinked, and the look was gone. He was back with her, though barely.

“You were afraid.”

It wasn’t wise to push him. Not when he was already teetering on the edge. But she couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

“You need training,” he rasped.

“Okay,” she agreed, instinctively understanding that having some order come out of this disorder would make him calmer. “Whenever you want.” Gently, she stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he had the same hard look. “I’m not kidding, Julie.”

She cupped his jaw in her hand. “I know. We can start right now if you like.” Then she smoothed her palm down his chest.

He shook his head. “No.” Fire flared in his eyes. “Now we need to go upstairs.”

“Up—” But she didn’t get the rest of the word out because his mouth was on hers, hot and dangerous. Her lips stayed parted because he immediately swept his tongue inside. It sought hers, tasting her. Devouring her. And before she could even blink his hands were up her shirt, on her back, desperately pulling her closer to him. Her body caught on quicker than her brain, but before she could process that they were going to do this right here, he slid one big hand right down the front of her jeans. Within seconds, he’d found exactly what he was looking for. Her.

Wet. Wanting.

“Julie,” he groaned, and it sounded like a plea.

“Yes,” she whispered, rocking her hips against him, and that was all she needed to do before he yanked out his hand and shoved her jeans and panties down all the way to her ankles. Then he lifted her up onto the counter, tugged everything off, and threw it on the ground. Pulling her to the edge, he spread her wide and pressed a long finger inside her. She gasped when he curled his finger up, his mouth sealed to hers. Two fingers. A flick of his thumb in just the right place. Pressure and need—she was drowning in it.

And then somehow he’d gotten a condom on and he’d opened her legs even wider and he was inside. She nearly cried with the pleasure of it and wrapped her legs around his hips. He reached for her hands and placed them around his neck.

“Hold on” was the only warning he gave before he slid his hands under her backside and lifted. She tightened her thighs around his waist and locked her ankles. Her full weight bearing down embedded him deeper inside her. She gasped, he groaned, and in a few agonizingly sensitive steps, he had her back up against the kitchen wall, fully impaled on his flesh. The cold wall on her back and his hands on her ass had her squirming, but he held her still, his raw power never more evident than it was at this moment.

He sealed his mouth over hers and began to pound, her body rocking upward with each stroke. She gasped, the sound swallowed up quickly, and tightened her grip around his neck. It was too intense—the length of him, the friction of their bodies rubbing together, the power in his spare movements—but he didn’t stop. Just cupped the back of her head and thrust heavily into her again and again, filling her completely. All his gentleness was gone now, and he kissed her, hard, his tongue claiming her mouth as his hips slammed against hers.

She liked it. God, she loved it! This was the real Cole Grayson, unrepentantly base. The side of himself he’d been hiding from her all along. Her thighs began to tremble and she was rubbing against him and then a few hard slides later she was bursting, falling, but he didn’t wait for her to land. Just pounded harder, faster, rougher.

At the moment of his climax he tore his mouth away from hers and bit her shoulder. Shocked, she involuntarily clenched her sex around him. He buried himself even deeper within her, groaning her name.

For a few long moments, both of them were utterly still, the only sounds their commingled breathing.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “You—you’re all right?”

She opened her eyes to find his gaze piercing her. He still held her up against the wall, an unreadable intensity behind his eyes.

“Yes,” she said. “Is your leg okay?” She was rewarded when he pressed his lips to hers. “Upstairs now?”

He gripped her firmly. “Hold on tight.”

With his body still wedged in hers, the walk was more than stimulating. By the time they’d reached the bedroom, she was raring to go again. At the edge of the bed, he withdrew his body from hers. The loss was nearly devastating.

Cole was still wearing all of his clothes, so he methodically stripped them off, along with the rest of hers, and pushed her back on the comforter.

He lay down beside her, stroking her arms, her hair, her face, seemingly reassuring himself that she was whole. Though she was aching for a repeat of what had happened in the kitchen, she lay still for him, letting him touch her. Letting him see how much she trusted him.

His gentle caresses heightened her already sensitive skin. She desperately wanted him to cover her breasts with his hands. But he waited, continuing those gentle touches, perusing her body with a practiced eye. He swept over every inch of flesh he could see, paying careful attention to the bruise on her arm.

He was beautiful in the dim light of her room, the planes of his face darker where he turned away from the light, the tattoos on his skin flickering in the shadows.

She reached out and traced the one over his ribs, moving her fingers over the intricate design of lines and names. “What is this?” she whispered.

“Remembrance for the dead.” He’d pulled out the pins from her chignon and had his fingers in her hair now. Gently, he raked through the strands, watching as they fell from his hand to the comforter in little waves.

“But you’re still alive.”

He turned to meet her gaze. That dangerous thing flared behind his eyes again. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am.” Then he covered her mouth with his and kissed her, softer this time, but deeply, passionately, filling her with his taste, his essence. Yes. This. You.

He moved down her body, kissing everything in his path. She nearly cried when he merely gave her nipples a brief flick with his tongue—she wanted so much more—but she let him continue past her ribs, trailing down her stomach. Then he spread her legs wide and by the time he touched her sex again, she was more than ready for him. He slipped two long fingers inside, gave a wicked flick with his thumb, and she closed her eyes, letting the sensations wash over her.

He rubbed a swollen spot in her channel that made her ache. Her fingers curled in the comforter. She needed more from him, but he didn’t give her more. Just the same maddeningly soft strokes. Just a little more pressure. Just a little harder and she’d fly over the edge, but he didn’t seem to be in a rush to take her there.

She moved one of her hands toward where Cole was working his dark magic, but he captured her wrist with a strong hand and pinned it to the bed.

Needy, almost desperate now, she was slowly unraveling. “Please, Cole.” Was that even her voice? It didn’t sound like her. She’d never begged for anything in her life.

“You want something?” he asked, only the hint of a tease in his voice. But she wasn’t playing. Not when she was about to lose her mind.

“You. I want you.”

She saw the self-satisfied smile for only an instant, and then it was gone, replaced by a gaze so intense it took her breath away.

He got a fresh condom from the night table and pushed her knees up, and then he was covering her body with his and entering her slowly, oh, so slowly. She tried to move her hips to get him to go faster, but he wouldn’t. He just wrapped an arm under her shoulders, held one hip down with the other, and impaled her inch by agonizingly pleasurable inch. By the time he was seated inside, she was almost frantic, but when he began a slow slide and release, everything kind of tipped on its axis and she was there, resting on a plane of pleasure higher than she’d ever been.

Every cell in her body screamed for him to move, to take, to pound into her the way she wanted—the way he just had—but he wouldn’t let her set the pace. Instead, he held her down and made her feel every glorious thing he was doing to her. She was panting now, her hands twisting in the comforter, in his hair, on his well-muscled back. He was gentle, so gentle she wanted to scream.

And then, finally, he wasn’t.

Stifling a groan, he began to quicken his pace, urging her to follow his lead. She welcomed the regaining of control, moving her body in time with his. Wrapping a leg around his back, she lifted her hips to meet his every thrust. He was going harder now, faster, his movements ruthless and almost desperate, the mattress giving with each downstroke. But shockingly, she wasn’t quite there.

And then he suckled a nipple, slipped a hand between her thighs, and two seconds later she was flying so high she thought she’d never see the ground. Gasping, her back arched, she went into a free fall, Cole’s heavy thrusts only heightening her pleasure until he, too, took his release inside her body.

It was a long time before she came back to earth, and when she did, all she wanted was to lie there for a long while, listening to him breathe while the wind blew outside.

When Cole had discovered that Don had attacked his woman for the second time, this time on a public street, he’d almost lost it. He’d actually left the office, knowing that if he were away from everyone, getting himself under control would be easier. After his deep breathing exercises and a trip to the shooting range—imagining Don’s face on every target—he’d felt better.

But his rage had been rekindled when he’d seen Julie and the bruise on her arm. It wasn’t until they’d made love that he’d regained his equilibrium. And now, with Julie wrapped in his arms, somehow, things were even calmer. She’d taken him back from the brink. Again.

He’d remembered Julie’s reaction the last time he’d gone at her for not dealing with her own safety—guns blazing, of course, same as he always did. But his cool-headed doctor was having none of that. She’d shut him down, forcing him to deal with her on her own terms. Just as she’d done tonight.

And this time, despite his rage at the situation, his abject fear that something could have happened to her, and his anger that Hank—not him—had been the one to help her, it had been easier to face the darkness. Because he knew Julie would be there, waiting for him, when he got back.

She was lying there, eyes closed, but not sleeping. He smoothed the hair back from her face and sighed. Whether she was aware of it or not, she humbled him with her generosity.

But something was still bothering him about the way she’d chosen to handle Don. She still didn’t know what she was doing, safety-wise, and it was slowly driving him mad to know that he wasn’t going to be able to protect her 24/7.

“I’m worried about you,” he said, his voice hollow.

Julie didn’t open her eyes. “I know.”

There was silence for a few moments as he thought about how to proceed.

“Let me stay with you for real. Not half-assed, like we’ve been doing. I want a key.”

She opened an eye. “For how long?”

Forever. He could barely wrap his mind around that idea. He’d been living in chunks of hours, sometimes days, but not weeks and definitely not months or years. “For now,” he said instead.

Both hazel eyes were open now. She shifted onto her side, propped herself up with an elbow, and regarded him evenly. “Are you asking to move in with me?”

“I guess I am.”

“Why?”

“Don’s in jail now, but for how long? He got out fast last time. He likely has resources we don’t know about, and that worries me.”

She thought for a moment. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No, you can’t move in with me.”

He blinked. “Why not?”

“Honestly? That’s the worst reason I’ve ever heard of for two people moving in together. If you want to protect me day and night, you or your deputies can guard my house.”

“That’s not the only reason.”

“Give me a better one, then.”

“You know it.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Damn, this woman was smart! He rolled until he was lying half on top of her, cradling her in his arms. With her hair spread out on the pillow, lying in the sheets rumpled from their lovemaking, her lips swollen and soft, she looked like a dream. Gently, he cupped her cheek and turned her face to his. “Because I love you, Julie,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I love you.”

Her eyes warmed, and then she kissed him, long and sweet. “I love you, too, Cole.”

He groaned and buried his face in her neck. “Julie, I swear to God, if something happens to you I’m going to—”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she said, cutting him off. “You’re here and you’re going to train me to protect myself, just like you wanted.”

“You want it, too.”

“Especially after today, I won’t deny that.”

He brushed his lips over hers, and an unexpected jolt hit him right in the groin.

“Okay,” he said, his voice roughened. “Let’s try this.” He captured her wrists in his hand and pinned them over her head. “Can you get free?”

A look of surprise crossed her face. Her breathing grew shallow, and he was intensely aware of the rise and fall of her breasts under his chest. Something in her eyes darkened and then he felt it—a little foot trailing its way up his leg.

“Who says I want to get free?”

After that, no other words were spoken for a long, long time.