Книга - Caught in the Act

Caught in the Act
Lori Foster


Mick Dawson, undercover cop.He's got his hands full with a pushy broad who claims she's just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Except all the perps seem to know everything there is to know about her. Who're you going to believe? Only one way to find out. Get real close.Del Piper, mystery writer.She's as confused as he is, but mostly because he's got the sweetest smile, when he smiles. Still, he's sticking with her twenty-four/seven–is this love or duty? Is he her protector or her captor?









“Why do you do this crazy stuff, Delilah?” Mick demanded.


Del tightened her hands on the edge of the counter. “The media claims I do it because I like writing about heroes, about guys who can win against all odds, and setting myself up as a heroine.”

“Are you?”

“No.” It was difficult to think with him so close. “And look who’s talking! A man who deliberately takes a bullet in the back for a stranger.”

His eyes, when they met hers, were dark, intense. “I couldn’t bear the thought of that bullet hurting your soft skin,” he whispered. He pressed his face into her throat and held her in a tender, possessive way that made her heart rap hard.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” she said.

“Tough. We’ve forged a bond, you and I.” Tangling his hand in her hair, he tipped her head back.

“What does that mean?” She found it hard to breathe with him watching her as if he could see her soul.

“It means you’re mine now.”


Dear Reader,

When Mick Dawson first appeared in Beguiled, he was a sixteen-year-old stud with a grown-up’s sense of responsibility and a heart begging for love. I loved him, and many of you must have, too, based on the number of letters I received asking for Mick’s story.

Now, in Caught in the Act, Mick is all grown up, still very much a stud and, yep, he’s still looking for love, whether he realizes it or not. Of course, I had just the right woman for him! Between me and Mick’s two friends Zack and Josh (pretty hunky heroes themselves), we gave Mick everything he deserved—and more. Poor Mick didn’t stand a chance.

I hope you enjoy reading Caught in the Act as much as I enjoyed writing it.

And be sure to check back next month for Treat Her Right, Zack’s story, Harlequin Temptation #852, and then again in November to see what Josh has gotten into in Mr. November, Harelquin Temptation #856.

Happy reading!

Lori Foster




Caught in the Act

Lori Foster





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


I want to give a very special thanks to

Officer LaDon Laney,

who exemplifies the types of heroes I enjoy writing about.

While helping me with my research, Officer Laney

spoke of his family, his community, his co-workers

and his job with admirable love and respect.

His help was invaluable to me.

And to Kathy McCutter for medical assistance,

and Lynda Sue Cooper for answering “cop” questions.

You’re all wonderful!




Contents


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN




CHAPTER ONE


RAIN DRUBBED THE WINDOW sluggishly, but Mick Dawson could still see out, still see all the different people milling around with colorful umbrellas and hats. He was so intent on watching for her he listened to the conversation with only half an ear. But then, half an ear was the most required when his friends got started on that particular topic.

“See that gorgeous blonde?” Josh Marshall said, deliberately baiting as usual. “The one who just came in? She’s wearing a push-up bra.”

“Is that right?” Zack Grange kept his tone dry. “How can you tell?”

“I know women.” Josh’s reply held an overdose of world-weary cynicism. “And I especially know women’s breasts.” He added, “At your age, I’d think you would, too.”

“Yeah, and at your age,” Zack retorted, “I’d have thought you’d outgrown your adolescent obsessions.”

The three of them sat in the corner booth at Marco’s, a casual Italian restaurant they’d first discovered five years ago. It was central to where they each worked, in the downtown area.

They came often, more so every year, it seemed, until now they met almost daily for lunch and often for dinner, too. None of them was married. Josh remained a confirmed bachelor, Zack was now a widower and Mick…well, Mick hadn’t met the right woman. His criteria were strict, but to his mind, marriage was forever. He’d seen the worst quite often, marriages made in hell and sustained with sarcasm and cheating and drink. He’d also witnessed that elusive best, unions overflowing with love and trust and support. No way would he settle for less than what he knew could and should be.

Because of their different jobs—each of them stressful—and their lack of romantic ties, meeting at Marco’s was about as close to a domestic routine as the three men ever saw.

The restaurant served as a place for celebration—a promotion, a new house, whatever came up that seemed celebration worthy. They also commiserated with each other there, as when Zack’s young wife had died and he’d wanted to retreat from life, not seeing anyone, not doing anything except coddling his little girl. Or after Mick had gotten shot in the leg and missed several weeks of work, making him edgy.

Mick’s life was all darkness and threats and caution. Ugly. Except here at Marco’s, and with the people he trusted—his two friends, his family.

No one else. At least, not yet.

No woman had ever snagged his attention long enough to build a trust, certainly never for anything serious. Until now.

Now he was intrigued.

“Mick, tell this fool that breasts don’t lift to the sun like a flower.” Josh laughed at his own jest. “If they’re damn near touching her chin, she’s wearing a push-up bra.”

Mick glanced at Zack and grinned. “Josh is an idiot where women are concerned—including his insane fascination with breasts, which, I agree, he should have outgrown years ago.”

Josh shook his head in a pitying way. “Men do not outgrow their fascination with breasts. You two are just weird.”

“A real woman,” Mick told him, “would chew you up and spit you out.”

“A real woman?” Zack asked, feigning confusion. “You mean someone with an IQ higher than ten? Why would Josh date anyone smarter than he is?”

Josh said, “Ha-ha. You’re just jealous.” He grinned and added, “Besides, the ladies have better things to do with their mouths when they’re around me. Chewing is definitely out.”

All three men laughed. “So,” Josh said, “if you two abnormal specimens aren’t turned on by a woman’s breasts—which should be soft and natural, not shoved heavenward—then what does do it for you?”

Mick groaned. “Didn’t we have this discussion back in high school?”

“Yeah, but it’s still interesting.”

“Bellies,” Zack blurted.

Josh raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

For the moment, Mick felt content to just listen.

“I love a woman’s belly.” Zack leaned back, smiling to himself. “Not all muscled up the way some women want to do these days. Just a nice soft smooth woman’s belly.” He nodded, confirming his own conclusions. “Very sexy.”

Josh considered that, then nodded, too. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. Bellies are hot. But not belly button rings.”

“No,” Zack agreed. “A good belly doesn’t need decoration.”

“What about you, Mick?” Josh prodded. “Long legs? Great ass? What?”

Mick took another bite of his BLT, almost by rote, not because he was hungry. He considered his reaction when he’d seen her for the first time. What had he noticed? What had caught his eye and kept him so interested, to the point he almost felt obsessed?

He glanced out the dim window again. It was a miserable, dank July day, breezy, with fat purple clouds hanging low in the sky.

She should be coming along any minute now.

He’d first noticed her at his old neighborhood. He’d been there to rent out the upstairs apartment of the building he still owned, the same building he’d once lived in as a child. There were a lot of…unpleasant memories for him there, along with a few special ones. He kept the building as a reminder to himself that his life had changed, he had changed, but he was still a product of his upbringing.

Evidently, she rented from the building next door, because she had come down the walkway to the street and headed toward the post office, letters in her hand. It worried Mick, because no one traipsed around unprotected in that area. To call it rough would be a gross understatement.

But there she’d been, strolling along without a care. He hadn’t hesitated to follow her, making certain she remained safe, enjoying the back view of her as she strutted along, her stride long and sure and almost cocky.

The sun was blistering hot that day, shining down on her blue-black, shoulder-length hair, hair so silky it appeared fluid when she moved. Soft, light blue eyes looked beyond everything and everyone, including Mick, as if a great distraction held her. He’d been nearly spellbound by her tall, willowy body with its incredibly long, slim legs and broad, fragile shoulders. Strangely enough, even when she came back out of the post office and went past him, again oblivious to her surroundings, he hadn’t noticed her breasts. All his attention had been on her face, with its strong jaw, straight nose, pale eyes.

Mick wondered for an instant what Josh would think of his oversight.

Because he wanted to meet her, wanted to get to know her and have sex with her until he passed out from sheer exhaustion, he wasn’t about to discuss her with Josh or Zack. So he merely shrugged. “It’s a combination of things, and it’s different with every woman.”

Before either Josh or Zack could respond to that obscure reply, Mick saw her. Blindly, he laid his sandwich aside and twisted in the booth to better see out the window. Regardless of the drizzling rain, the gray sky, he’d expected her. A little rain wouldn’t chase her inside. No, not this lady. She jogged every day around the same time, the same place. Or at least she had for two weeks now. It felt like fate, seeing her first in an area where he owned property, and then here again, where he routinely visited.

Zack, being a reasonable sort, hadn’t complained much when Mick had made him move so he’d have the window seat. Josh, though, was unreasonable, always. Outrageous bordering on obnoxious. He’d demanded, all with laughter and taunting grins, for Mick to admit who he was watching for. Mick had refused, but now it didn’t matter.

The second he shifted his attention, going on alert, Josh noticed.

“Aha! There you go, Zack. I think we’ll get to see this mystery lady any second now.”

Mick told him, rather succinctly, what he could do with his speculations. But that didn’t deter Josh; if anything, it made him more curious.

Both Josh and Zack twisted around, and they, too, watched through the window. The streets were crowded during the lunch hour. Open umbrellas jumped with the breeze as people milled up and down the sidewalk.

And there she was, weaving in and out of human traffic as she jogged, her head uncovered, her clothes better suited to a bright spring day than drizzling rain. Funny thing was, she went right past them, inky-black ponytail bouncing, rainwater dripping off her nose and darkening her sweatshirt, and still Josh and Zack looked, searching the crowds.

They hadn’t realized she was the one.

Mick’s body knew that she was. Just seeing her now, bedraggled and wet and distracted, he wanted her. His muscles felt tight, his blood hot, his flesh prickly. Damn, if just watching her jog did this to him, how would it feel to kiss her, touch her, to slide deep inside her and hear her moan out a climax?

He felt the stirrings of an erection and muttered a curse. Insanity, he decided, but it couldn’t be helped.

To hide his reaction, he grinned and leaned into the corner of the booth. Now that she’d gone by, he could face Zack and Josh and still keep an eye on her for about half a mile on the long, straight street. He glanced, and saw there was almost no jiggle to her firm little butt in the skintight biker shorts. His large hands would cover that bottom completely, and he’d hold her still, keep her steady for his thrusts….

Josh interrupted his very interesting imagery. “So? What are we looking for?”

“Nothing now.” Mick deliberately sipped his coffee, knowing he had to get control of himself. And he had to get her; maybe after he’d made love to her for no less than ten days, he’d be able to get her out of his system.

A comical look on his face, Josh stretched past Zack, nearly knocking his plate off the table, and pressed his nose to the window. He looked and looked and finally said, “Damn it, there’s nothing, no one, out there worth staring at!”

Mick and Zack shared a look. Zack shrugged. “If you’re only looking for breasts, that could be. Maybe Mick was looking for something else.”

Josh frowned at Zack. “No way. You know he’s straight. We’ve both seen him with women.”

Mick spewed his coffee. Zack burst out laughing, and several women in the restaurant looked their way. They kept looking, smiling, flirting, and Mick shook his head. “You’re drawing attention to yourself again, Josh.”

“Me? I’m not the one laughing like an idiot.”

“You don’t need to laugh,” Zack told him, “to be an idiot.” Then slowly, as if speaking to a half-wit, he said, “I meant Mick was maybe looking at a woman who wasn’t top-heavy. Just because it’s your ultimate definition of what makes a woman, that doesn’t mean the rest of us agree.”

Josh studied Mick. “That right?”

“That you have strange ideas about women?” He took another sip of coffee and shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I meant,” Josh said, exasperated, “is she…lacking in the upper works?”

“As far as I can tell,” Mick told him, a little annoyed and not sure why, “she’s not lacking anywhere.”

That only perplexed Josh more.

Mick again peeked out the window, and to his surprise, he saw her turn at the corner, cross the street and start back toward him. There was no more jiggle from her front than there’d been from her back. When she was just opposite the restaurant, she slowed and finally stopped. She rested her hands on her knees while she breathed deeply, heedless of the light rain and his avid attention.

When she straightened again, she stretched her arms high. Her shirt rose, showing a very sweet belly that Zack no doubt would have adored. Captivated, Mick continued to stare at her while a slow heat stirred deep inside him. She walked into the jewelry store located directly across from the restaurant, and Mick made up his mind.

Pushing aside his plate, he stood. So many times over the past few weeks he’d considered following her, initiating a conversation, introducing himself. He didn’t want to rush her, but he’d dreamed about her twice, so he knew his fascination wasn’t about to go away. Now seemed like as good a time as any to make his move. “I’ll be back.”

Josh and Zack stared at him, blank faced. Mick was aware of a thread of urgency vibrating through his blood. It had been like that from the second he first saw her, and every moment after when he watched her. He couldn’t put his finger on it, couldn’t tell anyone outright what it was about her that appealed to him, what pushed him over the edge. He only knew he wanted her. Bad.

As he dodged cars and puddles in the roadway, and muddy, slick spots along the curb, he wondered—for about the hundredth time—if she’d been in the area awhile, or if she’d only recently moved in when he first saw her. He’d been buried in work for the past two months, putting in seventeen-hour days, so it was possible she’d been close by for longer than two weeks.

He could get another assignment any day, so he had to take advantage of the opportunity now.

He hoped like hell she was single. Since first seeing her, he’d studied her closely. There weren’t any rings on her fingers, but then he knew women who didn’t wear them, especially while jogging. Not once in the two weeks of his awareness had he seen her with anyone, definitely not a man, but that, too, could be a fluke.

Mick turned up the collar on his windbreaker and darted across the sidewalk, trying to keep as dry as possible. He didn’t have to look behind him to know both Josh and Zack would be craning their necks, their noses pressed to the window, spying on him. It was totally unlike him to chase a woman.

It was totally unlike him to be interested enough to bother chasing.

Thunder boomed, echoing over the street and rattling windows just as he stepped through the jewelry store’s ornate front door. Air-conditioning hit him, chilling his damp skin. He brushed his hair back from his forehead and looked around. Glass cases were everywhere, some large, some smaller to showcase a certain piece, and there, in the far corner, she stood. Dressed in her running wear she looked very out of place, conspicuous and unique in the upscale, glitzy store. She also looked sexy as the original sin with her skin dewy from the drizzle and sweat, her cheeks flushed from exertion, her hair as much out of the ponytail as in, wet and sleek.

Damn, he thought, annoyed with himself. She wasn’t that pretty, was in fact kind of plain. She wore no makeup, but her lashes and brows were as dark as her hair. Her nails were short, clean. She had a nice body, strong and sleek, fine boned, but not overly curved, not typically sexy.

Not the type of body to make him sweat at the sight of her.

She didn’t give out signals or flirt or even pay much attention to men, not that he’d noticed.

His eyes widened. God, maybe she didn’t even like men. That’d be a kicker, one he wouldn’t, couldn’t accept. Not when the mere sight of her turned him on. He didn’t just want her; he felt as if he had to have her, just as he had to sleep or eat. It was the damnedest feeling, and he wasn’t happy with it or himself.

She didn’t appear interested in any particular item as she moseyed from case to case, peering inside, then shaking her head and moving on. For the moment, Mick was content to watch her. He slipped his hands into his jeans pockets, then quickly pulled them out again when he realized that negligent pose might expose the weapon in the waistband holster at his back. Being off duty, he didn’t need the gun, but he always carried it.

In this day and age, his cover wouldn’t have been believable without it. Drug dealers, prostitutes, gamblers…they all expected you to be armed, and if you weren’t, you were considered an idiot, or worse.

Usually, even when conditions didn’t call for a weapon, he managed to smuggle in the Smith & Wesson 9 mm in an ankle holster. There were times, though, when he had to go without, leaving him feeling naked, and those were the times when he got most tense, when the adrenaline rush was all but blinding. He always wanted a woman afterward, a way to release all that pent-up energy.

He wanted a woman now.

He wanted her.

Moving closer, watching her, he was amazed that she didn’t feel his attention, so acute that it had him half-hard again with expectation. It had always been his experience that blatant staring was felt like a stroke of ice. But then, she was a civilian, and he’d already noted the first day he saw her how heedless she could be of her surroundings. It amazed him sometimes that people could survive with so little caution.

The door chimed behind Mick and more people entered. Two men, dressed much like Mick in jeans and T-shirts, wearing sneakers, one in a ball cap. They appeared to be in their mid-thirties, clean, middle-class. As a cop, Mick automatically took in everyone and everything. He’d already noted the two salesladies, the older couple looking at cocktail rings for an anniversary. He picked up on actions and quiet dialogue and expressions.

Caution was as basic to him as breathing. And because he wasn’t a civilian, wasn’t oblivious, he immediately detected the sudden charge in the air despite the nonthreatening scene and apparently ordinary people. It had come in like the wind with the men, and Mick didn’t like it worth a damn. He had a keen sixth sense, and he trusted it more than he trusted appearances.

The woman looked up, around, made brief eye contact with the two men who’d entered, then again with Mick. Their gazes locked and held for an instant, an instant that made his gut clench with awareness. She gave him a small smile, a simple, friendly smile that nonetheless heightened his tension, before she turned away again.

Senses on alert, Mick followed her, not too close, in no way obvious, but keeping her within reach. Because the shop was small and crowded with displays, the air thick and humid from the rain outside, he could detect her scent. It was earthy and rich, warm woman, damp skin and clean female sweat. His heart punched hard, a little fast; his sex thickened. He’d been too long without a woman, too long without any sexual relief. Sometimes being a contrary bastard was a real pain.

Her wet running shoes squeaked on the ceramic tile floor as she browsed, appearing to study the shop, not just the wares but the structure, the setup. Mick frowned as he watched her, further intrigued and a little distracted. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the men reach into his jacket pocket, and a silent alarm screamed inside Mick’s head.

He jerked around, but not quickly enough.

“Everyone stay still and calm.” The guy waved a SIG Sauer .45 around the room with menacing intent. “No one panic or do anything stupid,” he said with a sneer, “and I won’t have to kill anyone.”

Damn, damn, damn. Mick took a quick, inconspicuous glance around. The elderly woman, clinging to her husband, looked ready to faint, while the salespeople stood motionless, frozen in horror. His movements so slight that no one paid him any mind, Mick edged closer to the woman he’d followed. She stared at the gunman, her blue eyes darker now with fascination, but he saw no real fear.

“We’ll do our business,” the guy in the ball cap said, “and then leave and no one will be hurt.”

Mick didn’t buy it for a second; the words sounded far too rehearsed, far from sincere. And there was an anticipatory expression on the man’s face.

Things never worked out the easy way—not life, not love, sure as hell not an armed robbery.

The second man hitched his gun at the saleswoman. “You, come open the register and make it quick.”

She balked, more out of surprise than rebellion. Mick had a similar sensation. They were surrounded by diamonds and gold of unbelievable value, yet this idiot wanted what little cash might be in the register? The robber had to realize that most sales would be handled with credit cards or checks; his demand didn’t make sense.

Mick’s hands twitched. He wanted to grab his gun; he wanted to be in control. Right now, control meant keeping everyone alive. It meant keeping her alive.

Without warning, the man who’d issued the order shouted, “Now, goddamn it!” and everyone jumped, the saleslady screeching and stumbling over her own feet as she rushed to obey.

A predictable panic reaction, Mick thought, to the threat of sudden violence, not something a robber intent on keeping things calm would have instigated. Mick’s suspicions rose.

The older woman quietly wept, one saleslady turned white, the other shook so badly she had a hard time working the register. Before she could get it open, distant sirens broke the quiet, making both men curse hotly. Mick tensed, waiting for another outburst, for them to turn and run, for them to retaliate by shooting the saleslady. He’d learned early on that criminals did the most absurd and unaccountable things, often causing death without reason. He prepared himself for any reaction.

But what they did took him totally by surprise.

They didn’t yell, didn’t run. They focused their blame on the young woman next to Mick.

“Bitch,” the guy in the ball cap snarled. “You set off an alarm.”

Startled, she blinked, looked around, backed up two paces. “No,” she breathed. It was the first time Mick had heard her voice, which quaked with fear, bewilderment. “I don’t even know where—”

The man took aim at her and, without thinking, Mick blocked his path. Both gunmen froze at his audacity. He felt the woman’s small hands against his back, clutching at his jacket. He felt her face press into his shoulder, was aware of her accelerated breathing, her trembling. She was deathly afraid, and anger surged in his blood.

His voice as low and calm as he could make it, Mick said, “She’s a customer. She doesn’t know where the alarm is.”

He was ignored.

“Everybody get down!” As the guy in the ball cap yelled his order, a car screeched up in front of the shop, motor idling. The customers all dropped to the floor, panicked, including the woman at Mick’s back. He felt her jerky movements, could hear her panting in terror.

Mick moved more slowly, his mind churning as he tried to buy himself some time. If he could get his gun… His elbow touched the woman’s wrist, he was so close to her. She, like the others, had stretched out flat, covering her head with her arms, shaking. Mick kept himself balanced on his elbows, ready to move, watching without appearing to watch.

The sudden shattering of glass—again and again as each case was destroyed—caused the older woman to wail, the saleslady to whimper. The woman next to Mick never made a sound. He wanted to look at her, to somehow reassure her, but he didn’t dare take his attention off those weapons. The two men grabbed a few large items of jewelry, but it was as if they destroyed the store just for the sake of destruction.

It was by far the most pathetic, disorganized and unproductive robbery Mick had ever witnessed—and that made him more suspicious than anything else might have. By rights, they should have known where the most valuable items would be, and should have concentrated their sticky fingers there. Instead, they seemed to take whatever was at hand without thought to its worth. No one robbed a jewelry store without casing it first, without knowing what would be found inside and where.

The two men finally headed for the door. The tension tightened, grew painful, static crowding the air until it seemed impossible to breathe—and the bastard in the ball cap turned to fire.

Mick moved so fast, he barely had the thought of moving before he was over her, his arms covering her head, his muscular body completely blanketing her delicate one. Though she was tall for a woman, about five-nine, she was small boned and felt fragile to his six-three frame. He was plenty big enough, and more than determined enough, to be her protection.

She gasped at the feel of him on top of her and immediately stiffened, forcing her head up, twisting. “No! What are you doing?”

He jammed her head back down, then cursed when her cheek hit the hard tile floor. Knowing what she likely thought and wishing he could spare her, Mick said into her ear, “Be still.”

She wiggled more furiously, trying to free herself, confused and frightened, unsure of his intent. “He’s going to—” Mick began to explain, and then it was unnecessary.

The crack sounded loud and startling; the sudden pain in his right shoulder was a lick of pure fire. For only a moment, his arms tightened around her and he ground his teeth together. “Oh God,” she whispered, trying to turn toward him.

Mick grunted, but didn’t move. No, he wasn’t about to move. For whatever reason, they wanted her dead, but they’d have to get through him first.

He felt the blood spreading on his back, sticky and warm; he was aware of the woman squirming beneath him, gasping, crying. But it wasn’t until he heard the door open that he rolled and drew his gun at the same time. He blocked the awful pain, any distractions, and got off a clean shot through the glass door, clipping the man who’d tried to shoot her. The hollow-point bullet hit him high in the left thigh before he could get into the car. The leg crumpled beneath him and he went down in an awkward heap, howling in pain, grabbing for the open car door in desperation.

The car lurched away, spewing gravel and squealing tires, tossing the man back. The side of his head cracked solidly against the curb. He lay there unconscious, sprawled out like a wounded starfish.

Surging to his feet, Mick ran out the door. He spotted the car, drew careful aim and fired again. The back window exploded, but the car didn’t slow. It careened around the corner on two wheels and disappeared.

Already the streets had filled with onlookers, people too damn stupid to stay inside and away from gunfire. Mick’s arm rapidly went hot, cold and then numb; his fingers throbbed. His hand shook as he tried to hang on to his gun, to steady himself.

Josh and Zack appeared, having witnessed the tail end of the robbery from the restaurant. Josh, smooth as silk, slipped the gun from Mick’s hand and dropped it into his trouser pocket. They’d arrived just seconds before the police cars. More people from all over the street converged, whispering, curious. Josh caught Mick’s upper arm and supported him. “Jesus, man. You’re shot.”

Zack came to his other side and yelled, “Someone call the paramedics. He needs an ambulance.” That made Mick laugh, since Zack was an EMT. Zack shook his head wryly and pulled out his radio, putting in the call himself.

“Here, sit down,” he said, and led Mick to the rain-wet curb.

“I don’t want to sit in a damn puddle,” Mick grumbled. “I’m fine.” Fine enough that he wanted to find the woman. He looked around, and when he didn’t immediately see her, terror started to take hold. He located the elderly couple leaning against the brick building. The old woman clung to her husband and cried, while he peered around in dismay and impotent anger. Mick saw the two salespeople, huddled together, dry eyed but white as snow, apparently in shock. Cops swarmed everywhere, separating the witnesses so they couldn’t share stories. Two police cars took off to give chase, while another radioed in the call. An officer headed Mick’s way.

Where the hell is she?

When the cop reached him, frowning, his hand resting on his holster, Mick said quietly, “I’m Mick Dawson, Vice.” He started to reach inside his jacket for his badge, but his arm wouldn’t cooperate and he cursed.

Josh said, “I’ll get it.” He retrieved the badge and flipped it toward the officer, who nodded and yelled for someone to get a blanket.

Frustrated, Mick could do no more than stand there, getting weaker by the second, while Zack gave instructions into his radio and Josh more or less held him upright.

Zack told the officer, “The ambulance is on its way. I’m an EMT. I’ll see to him until it gets here.”

The officer, frowning in worry, handed Zack the blanket and then set off to clear the street.

Mick started to pull free, desperate to find the woman and make certain she was okay, but just then she stepped around the elderly couple. Her face, her beautiful face, was creased with worry, with disbelief. From a slight distance, they stared at each other, and there was no distraction in her gaze now, no oblivion. The horror of what had just happened darkened her eyes to midnight.

A bruise discolored her cheekbone from when he’d pushed her head down. His stomach cramped with that realization. She trembled all over, and Mick shook off Zack to go to her, needing to hold her, to apologize, though he didn’t even know her name, had no idea who she was or why the robbers had wanted to kill her.

Zack, who’d been looking at the wound in his shoulder, drew him back. “Damn it, Mick, you’re ready to drop.”

Mick started to deny that, but then his legs gave out, and if it hadn’t been for Josh and Zack supporting him, he’d have been sitting in the middle of the sidewalk instead of on the curb with a folded blanket beneath him. His vision swam, closed in.

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” Zack said in his calm, professional voice, but Mick heard the concern, the anger, as his friend began first aid.

“Don’t let her get away.” Mick meant to say it loud and clear, an order that couldn’t be ignored. But the words emerged as a faint whisper, and that infuriated him. He’d finally met her—sort of—and he sounded weak, looked weak.

At the moment, he was weak. Too weak.

But she’d felt so good beneath him for that brief, charged moment, adding to his adrenaline rush, further arousing him though they’d been in the middle of a very dangerous situation. It was so absurd, but even as he’d braced for that bullet, he’d been aware of her under him, her ass cuddling his groin, her head fitting neatly under his chin.

He forced his head up and said again, trying for more than a whisper this time, “Don’t let her get away.”

He knew Josh heard him because he leaned closer. “Who?”

“In…the running clothes. Black hair.” That was the very best description he could muster under the circumstances.

Josh looked up, eyes narrowed as he scanned the crowd and then settled on someone. He said, “You’ve got it, buddy. Now you just rest. I’ll take care of it.” He got to his feet and stalked forward purposefully, saying in a tone that brooked no argument, “Miss? I need to see you, please.”

And Mick blacked out.




CHAPTER TWO


“WHERE IS SHE?” The sound of his own voice, foggy and dark and thin, appalled him. Mick tried to clear his throat, but it was impossible.

“Shh,” he heard Zack say. “Take it easy.”

Mick struggled to open his eyes, then wished he hadn’t. What the hell had they done to him? His shoulder didn’t hurt, at least not at the moment, but he felt as if his brain might explode, and every muscle he possessed was sluggish, refusing to cooperate with his brain’s commands.

More cautiously this time, he cracked his eyes open and found Zack on guard at his bedside. Where was Josh? Where was she?

“The woman?” he asked again, and he sounded like a dying frog.

Zack lifted a glass of water with a straw to Mick’s mouth. He wanted to tell Zack to jam the straw in his ear, but he couldn’t. He gave in to his thirst and took several quick sips. He started to move his arm, and fire burned down his side. Now his shoulder hurt. He ground his teeth, hissing for breath.

“The anesthesia is wearing off,” Zack explained. “You’ll be groggy a little longer, but overall you’re fine. They left the bullet in—that’s two for you now, right? Taking it out would only have caused more damage. You lost too much blood already.”

Mick was still registering what Zack had said when his friend leaned forward and growled, not two inches from his nose, “You scared the hell out of me! Don’t you know if you get shot you should stay down? Swinging your arm around that way just encouraged it to bleed more.”

Mick grunted, as much from the pounding in his head as in reply. “Where the hell is she?”

Exasperated, Zack sighed. He didn’t need to ask She who? “Josh has been keeping a close eye on her, since right before you passed out and bashed your damn head on the ground. Yeah, that’s why your head feels like it’s splitting. I’m surprised you don’t have a concussion, as hard as you hit. If you didn’t have to be so damn macho, if you’d just tell someone when you were ready to faint—”

“I did not faint.” Mick’s voice, his words, were gaining strength, and he grumbled, “I passed out from blood loss.”

“Yeah, well, they look about the same when you drop right in the middle of a crowd.”

It hurt, but Mick narrowed his eyes and said, “Zack? Come closer.”

Zack, filled with new concern, leaned down close.

“Where the hell is she!”

Zack jerked back and grimaced. “All right, all right, you don’t have to bust my eardrum. You said, all ominous cloak and dagger, ‘Don’t let her get away.’ Neither Josh nor I knew if that meant she should be arrested, or if she was the lady you’d been watching for.”

Mick jerked—and the sudden movement squeezed the breath right out of his lungs. Damn, he’d forgotten how badly a bullet hurt. Through clenched teeth, he snarled, “You didn’t…?”

“Turn her over to the cops? Nope. They questioned her, of course, but Josh followed them to the station and then picked her up afterward. She’s fine, just shook up and babbling about you being a hero—no surprise there, I suppose. She claims you took that bullet for her, and she wants to see you, overflowing with gratitude and all that, but, of course, since we didn’t know what the hell was going on…”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Zack grinned. “We collected her for you, but she’s none too happy right now. Josh is more or less, er, detaining her. No, don’t look like that. You know he wouldn’t hurt her. But he’s taxing himself; it’s been over four hours, after all.”

Four hours! Mick wanted to groan again, thinking of her waiting that long, Josh coercing her into hanging around….

“No,” Zack said, correctly reading his mind, “she didn’t want to leave, she wanted to see you. And she’s not happy when she doesn’t get what she wants. She’s actually—” Zack coughed. “She’s a very determined lady.”

Zack looked at Mick’s IV and added, “Evidently, she wants you.”

That was a revelation, one he could easily live with. His head pounded, but Mick held back all wimpy sounds of distress and said, “Get her for me.”

“Don’t be an idiot! You’re hardly in any shape to start getting acquainted.” Zack stood, towering over the bed. “I assumed once you came to, you’d explain what the hell’s going on, we could then explain it to her, and then we’d let the lady go home so you could get some rest.”

“Do not let her leave here alone.” Mick had awakened with a feeling of panic, again seeing that gun aimed at her—just her, no one else, and for no apparent reason. Until he figured things out, he wanted her watched. He wanted her protected.

It pissed him off royally that he had to ask others to do that for him.

“Mick, we can’t just refuse to let her leave.”

Giving Zack a sour look, Mick said, “Get her.”

“Damn, you’re insistent when you’re injured.”

“And I’ve heard more ‘damns’ from you in the last five minutes than I have since your daughter was born.”

Zack shrugged. “Well, Dani isn’t here to listen and emulate. Besides, it’s not every day I see a friend shot.”

“You say I need to recoup, Zack?”

“That’s right.”

“So how is it going to help my recuperation when I get out of this bed and kick your sorry ass?”

Zack hesitated before giving in with a laugh. “I can’t fight you now, because you’re already down and I feel sorry for you. If I let you get up and attempt to hit me, you’d probably start bleeding all over the place again and rip your stitches, and I’d have to let you win.” He held up both hands. “Stay put. I’ll find out how soon you’ll be moved to your room and when Delilah can join you.”

Pain ripped through his shoulder as Mick did a double take. “Delilah?”

Zack stared. “Don’t tell me you didn’t even know her name.”

“So?” Learning her name hadn’t been his top priority. Touching her had, and he’d accomplished that while also protecting her. A nice start, except for the fact that someone wanted her dead, and had shot him trying to accomplish the deed. But he’d figure that one out eventually. In the meantime, he had no intention of letting anyone hurt her.

“So you took a bullet for a complete stranger?”

Very quietly, Mick asked, “Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

And because Zack already had once, long ago, he turned and walked out.

The second Zack pushed aside the curtain and left, a nurse stepped in, ready to check Mick’s vitals and reassure him. She lingered, and Mick couldn’t help but smile at her, despite his discomfort and his current frazzled frame of mind. She was about five years older than he, putting her in her early thirties. She was attractive even in sensible white shoes and a smock. She smoothed his hair, her fingers gentle, while she explained that he’d be there overnight, but would likely leave in the morning, and that they’d put him in his own room very soon.

Still being polite, Mick was careful not to encourage her. He wanted to meet Delilah, wanted to talk to her, hear her voice when she wasn’t frightened, see her smile again. She was the only woman he wanted at the moment, and he was relieved when the orderly showed up and announced it was time to take Mick to his room.

Any minute now he’d meet her, really meet her. And he promised himself that not long after that he’d kiss her…and more. He didn’t know how he’d manage that, all things considered, but he would. He had to taste her, had to stake a claim in the best way known to man.

He discounted his wound. It wouldn’t slow him down; he wouldn’t let it slow him down.

He needed her.



“I’M CAPABLE OF WALKING on my own.”

Josh, the man “escorting” her to Mick’s room, gave a disgruntled sigh and removed his hand from her arm. He’d been pushy and demanding, a total stranger insisting she follow his orders. She’d done so, once she realized he was a friend of the man who’d protected her.

But she didn’t like him, and she definitely didn’t like the distrustful way he loomed over her. He pretended gentlemanly qualities, but she knew he held on to her so she couldn’t get away. She’d already told him a dozen times that she had no intention of leaving.

Not that Josh paid any mind to what she had to say.

He had “slick” written all over him, from the way he held himself to the way he noticed every single female in the vicinity. She understood his type. Josh was one of those men who felt superior to women, but covered that nasty sentiment with charisma and a glib tongue. No doubt, given his good looks and outrageous confidence, women regularly encouraged him.

Del just wanted to get by him so she could meet the other man, the one who’d risked his life for her.

Josh slanted her one of his insulting, speculative looks. “I hope you don’t go in there and give him any grief.”

When she didn’t answer him, he added, “He did save your sorry, ungrateful little butt, after all.”

She could hardly ignore that! Del whirled and stuck a finger into his hard chest. “I know. I was there,” she snapped. Her control, her poise and any claim to ladylike behavior were long gone. Today had been the most bizarre and eventful day of her life. “You’re the one who doesn’t seem to understand that I need to see him, that I should have been there with him all along, to thank him—”

He glared at her, rubbed at his chest and walked away. Del had to hurry to catch up to him. A few seconds later they turned a corner, and Josh pushed a door open. “Here we go,” he said. And then under his breath, but not much under, she heard him mutter, “Thank God.”

Through the open doorway, Del could see the occupied hospital bed, and she drew up short. Heavy emotion dropped on her, making her feel sluggish in the brain—which was a first. Her breath caught. Her stomach flipped. Her heart fluttered.

He lay almost flat, his long, tall body stretching from one end of the narrow bed to the other. She remembered his height when he’d covered her, protecting her and all but dwarfing her despite her own height. She remembered the power of him, too, the vibrating tension and leashed strength.

His beautiful, dark brown hair now looked disheveled, spikey from the earlier rain and his injuries and… Her bottom lip quivered with her loss of composure.

He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, though she hadn’t really seen him until he threw himself on top of her and saved her life. At first she’d thought he was with the robbers, and she’d known so much fear she’d actually tasted it.

Instead, he’d taken a bullet meant for her.

Her heart stuttered to a near stop. What kind of man did that? He didn’t know her, owed her nothing. She’d barely noticed him in the store before that.

But when he’d chased the bad guys just like a disreputable Dirty Harry clone, she’d looked him over and hadn’t been able to stop looking. He’d been all hard, flexing muscle, animal grace and speed.

Now he was flat on his back in a hospital bed. She sighed brokenly, choking on her emotions.

He turned his head at the sound she made, and those deep brown, all-consuming eyes warmed. A slight, heart-stopping smile curved one side of his mouth, and he looked sexy and compelling. In a deep, dark voice hoarse with pain, he whispered, “Hi.”

Just like that her heart melted and sank into her toes. There was so much inflection, so much feeling, in that one simple hello. Vaguely, she heard Josh saying, “Delilah, meet Mick Dawson. Mick, Miss Delilah Piper.”

Del paid no attention to Josh, her every thought and sense focused on the large dark man in the bed. In the bed because of her. No one had ever done anything even remotely like that for her. Her life in the past few years had been, by choice, a solitary one. Even before then, though, her relationships had been superficial and short-lived—nothing to inspire such protective instincts.

The reality of what he’d done, what he’d risked for her, threw Del off balance emotionally, just as the sight of him stirred her physically.

Without another thought, she moved straight to the bed. Mick looked at her, still smiling, but now with his eyes a bit wider, more alert, a little surprised. She sat near his hip and stroked his face. She needed to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin, the lean hardness of his jaw…. Unable to help herself, she kissed him.

Against his lips, she said with heartfelt sincerity, “Thank you.”

He started to say something, but she kissed him again. It felt…magically right; she could have gone on kissing him forever. His mouth was firm, dry. Five o’clock shadow covered his jaw, rasping against her fingertips, thrilling her with the masculinity of it. Heat, scented by his body, lifted off him in waves, encompassing her and soothing her. He tasted good, felt good, smelled good.

A little breathless, bewildered by it all, Del said, “I’m so sorry. It should be me in that bed.”

“No!” His good arm came up, his hand, incredibly large and rough, clasped her shoulder, and he levered her away. For a man in a sickbed, he had surprising strength and was far too quick.

And he looked angry. And protective.

Excitement skittered down her spine, while tenderness welled in her chest.

The door opened again and Zack, the man who was a little nicer than Josh, started in. He jerked to a halt when he saw them both on the bed, nose-to-nose. Startled, Zack began to backpeddle, only to change his mind once more when he spotted Josh standing in the corner, smirking.

“Uh, Mick?” Zack sounded ridiculously cheerful and vastly amused. “I see you’re feeling…better.”

Josh chuckled. “I imagine he feels just fine right about now, since she’s in here.”

Slowly, not wanting to upset Mick, Del stood and cast a quick glare at both men. In her fascination with Mick, she’d all but forgotten them and how they’d bulldozed her, refusing her every request, evading her questions.

“I’d have been with you sooner, but they wouldn’t let me,” she said to Mick, feeling piqued all over again. “I didn’t know what was going on or why—”

“Only family could see him before he got to his room,” Zack said, some of his cheerfulness dwindling.

Del had heard the same lame explanation at least ten times, yet Zack had pretty much stayed with Mick, except for when he’d taken a turn guarding her so Josh could look in on him. They were friends, not family, or so they’d told her, so their excuses held no weight. They’d insisted she come to the hospital, insisted she wait around, and then they’d refused to let her do anything useful—like see Mick and thank Mick and…

She brushed her stringy bangs out of her face, still annoyed, still frustrated. “You could have taken my suggestion and told them I was his wife. Then they’d have let me in.”

Josh choked; Zack raised one eyebrow and looked at Mick. Mick grinned, then reached out for her hand with his good arm, which meant stretching across the bed. When she took his hand, he said, “I’m sorry you were worried.” And in a quieter tone, “Are you all right?”

Dismissing the other two men, she again sat on the bed. She wanted to kiss him some more, but his friends were standing there, not only ogling them, but bristling like overprotective bulldogs. Besides, after her run through the rain, and the burglary, she probably wasn’t all that appealing.

“I’m fine.”

Mick touched her bruised cheek with gentle fingertips. His eyes were nearly black with concern. “Damn, I’m sorry about that.”

His tone made her heart beat faster, made her skin flush and her insides warm. They’d only just met, but she felt as if she’d known him forever.

Catching his wrist, she turned his hand and kissed his palm. Again he looked surprised, and if she didn’t miss her guess, aroused. His eyes were hot, his cheekbones slashed with color. He stared at her mouth.

Was it possible he felt the same incredible chemistry?

Del had to clear her throat to say, “You saved me. I’m sorry I freaked. I thought…well, at first I thought you were with them and you intended to…”

“I know.” He continued to stare at her mouth, which made her belly quiver, her nerves jump. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

The irony didn’t escape her. Here he was, in bed, wounded, and he kept apologizing to her. She’d never met a man like him. “You kept me alive,” she stressed, which discounted any side effects, such as a small bruise, as unimportant. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Well, not sorry that I’m alive, but sorry that you got hurt in the process.”

“It’s just a flesh wound.”

Zack coughed and Josh snorted.

She looked at his two friends, then peered at Mick suspiciously. Was it worse than she thought? But the nurse had told her he’d be okay.

Her ire resurfaced and she said to Mick, “I wanted to come in and see you, but they wouldn’t let me. Waiting was awful. When we found out how long it would be, I planned to go home and shower and change, and try to make myself presentable, so when you came to I wouldn’t be such a sight, but he—” she directed a stiff finger at Josh “—wouldn’t be at all reasonable about any of it.”

“Don’t blame Josh,” Mick said, smiling just a bit. “I asked him to keep you around.”

“You did?”

“I was afraid you’d disappear and I wouldn’t get to see you again.”

His words were so sweet, she forgot about her sweat and ruined clothes and stringy hair. “I wouldn’t have done that, I swear! I would have come right back.”

Again she leaned down and kissed him, but this time he was ready for her and actually kissed her back. His tongue stroked past her lips for just a heartbeat, then retreated. Her breath caught and she sighed. Oh wow.

With a numb mind and tingling lips, she heard him rumble in a low voice, “I want to see you, Delilah.”

She lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “I want to see you, too. I just wish I’d had time to clean up. I’m all sweaty and I have mud on my feet and my clothes are limp and wrinkled. I smell like a wet dog.”

His hot gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth and back again, his expression devouring. “You smell like a woman.”

She almost slid right off the side of the bed. Much more of that and she’d be sweating again, that or she’d self-combust.

He was just so darn sexy! The dark beard shadow covering the lower part of his face made him look dangerous. After witnessing him in action that afternoon, she knew he was dangerous. His brows were thick, his lashes sinfully long, his high-bridged nose narrow and straight, his mouth delicious. And those dark eyes… This man had singled her out and risked his life to save her. It was beyond comprehension.

It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

Only a thin hospital gown and a sheet concealed his entire gorgeous, hard body from her. She looked him over, saw the width of his chest, the length of his legs. His feet tented the sheet, and as her attention slid back up his body, she noticed something else was beginning to tent, as well.

She returned her gaze to his, saw the burning intensity there, and froze. He wasn’t embarrassed and made no attempt to conceal his growing erection.

Using his left hand, Mick lifted her fingers and caressed them gently. His eyes were direct, unapologetic, and when she glanced at the other two men, it was to see them looking out the window, at the ceiling, anywhere but at the bed.

She was unimpressed with their show of discretion after everything they’d already put her through. It didn’t matter that they’d directed their attention elsewhere; they were still in the room, their presence noticeable. They’d more or less forced her to stay, at Mick’s request, but it was obvious they still didn’t want her alone with him.

If they’d really been polite, if they’d trusted her at all, they’d have left the room. But no, they weren’t ready to budge an inch. She supposed they didn’t know her well enough to trust her and, after all, he’d just been shot, but still…

Mick looked vital and strong and all-male, and his effect on her was beyond description. She’d long since decided men weren’t worth the effort, but oh, she hadn’t met this man yet.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” She gripped his hand hard, trying to accustom herself to the unfamiliar feelings of tenderness and worry and explosive desire. It had been forever since she’d felt so much awareness for a man. Well, actually, she’d never felt it—not like this. Which was the main reason she seldom dated anymore. Men didn’t appreciate her emotional distance.

She felt far from emotionally distant now. “The nurse said you’d be fine, but…”

“Yeah.” His voice was rich with promise. “I should be out of here soon.”

“Tomorrow,” Zack said, still keeping his eyes averted, “as long as you agree to take it easy. They’ll send you home with antibiotics and painkillers, but knowing you—”

A noise in the hall alerted them to more visitors. Mick released his hold on Del and bunched the blankets over his lap to hide his partial erection just seconds before a man and woman pushed through the door. They entered in a rush, heading straight for Mick.

Not being much of a people person, Del faded aside, inching into the corner opposite Zack and Josh. Mick frowned in displeasure at her retreat, and Josh said, “No worries. I’ve got it covered.” When he moved to stand between Del and the door, Del realized he meant that he’d continue to keep her around.

As if she’d leave now!

Del’s attention snagged on the pretty blond woman now hovering over the bed, kissing the top of Mick’s head, his high cheekbone, his chin. “Thank God you’re all right!”

The woman’s lips were all over Mick, and Del didn’t like it at all. But she knew she had no right to complain.

“I made Dane drive like a demon to get us here.”

“Angel,” Mick protested, all the while grinning widely so that Del knew he didn’t really mind her attention at all, “you didn’t need to rush. I’m fine.”

Del wondered if Angel was her name or an endearment.

The woman pressed her cheek to Mick’s. “But you were shot!”

Zack laughed. “I told you on the phone he’d be all right.”

“I had to see for myself.”

Josh crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. It was apparent to Del that they all knew each other, that these were more of Mick’s friends. These people Josh trusted; she could see that.

Feeling like an outsider, or worse, an interloper, Del frowned.

“According to the doctor,” Josh said, addressing Angel, “he’ll need some baby-sitting.”

Zack nodded. “Luckily the bullet hit at a tangential entry. It was expended enough that the force didn’t carry it into the chest cavity, which could have injured his lung, or in a through-and-through injury that could have caused more damage to his arm.”

“Yeah,” Mick mumbled, tongue in cheek, “I’m real lucky.”

Del’s heart ached for him. This was the most she’d heard, and it hadn’t been revealed for her benefit. Rather, the information was for the new arrivals, especially the woman with the lips.

The female who was trusted.

It all sounded so horrendous, worse than Del had imagined. If the shooter had stepped just a little bit closer, if his aim had been a little higher… She closed her eyes, fighting back a wave of renewed fear and impossible guilt. Mick could so easily have been killed.

Her eyes snapped opened when she heard Angel say, “You’ll come home with me, of course.”

Del had no real rights to jealousy or possessiveness, but she felt them just the same. Who was this beautiful woman who felt free to kiss and touch Mick?

And then the thought intruded: was he married?

Del’s stomach knotted. She tried to see Mick’s hand, but couldn’t with both people crowded near his bed.

The man with Angel said, “The kids would love a chance to fetch and carry for you. They adore you, you know that.”

With incredible relief, Del realized that if they had kids, they must be a couple. Which meant Mick was safe from any romantic entanglement with Angel.

Del was just beginning to relax again, feeling on safer ground, when yet another couple pushed through the door. This woman was lovely, too, but the man with her held her close to his side, leaving no doubt that they were together. He was large and dark and so intense he looked like Satan himself. Del stared, but no one else seemed alarmed.

Mick even rolled his eyes. “Angel, did you drag Alec and Celia down here, too?”

Angel touched his face. “They were visiting when we got the news. Of course they insisted on coming.”

The room was all but bursting with large men. Josh and Zack were big enough, but their physical presence was nothing compared to Dane’s and Alec’s, both of whom were in their prime and exuding power.

And Mick, even flat on his back and wounded, was a masculine presence impossible to ignore. He had an edge of iron control, of leadership, that couldn’t be quelled by an injury. All in all, the men made an impressive group. Del expected the walls to start dripping testosterone any moment.

She watched them all, memorizing names and studying faces as they shared familiar greetings. The women were all-smiles, and even Dane looked somewhat jovial. Alec, however, looked capable of any number of nefarious deeds.

Just as Del thought it, she saw his piercing gaze sweep over Mick from head to toe, and he grinned a surprisingly beautiful grin, making his black eyes glitter and causing Del to do an awed double take.

“I knew you wouldn’t go much longer,” Alec drawled, and even his deep voice sounded scary to Del, “without getting yourself shot again. It’s a nasty habit.”

“I’ll try real hard to keep that in mind,” Mick said.

“Zack tells me you got shot on purpose this time.” Alec crossed his massive arms. “At least I try to avoid it when possible, and when Celia isn’t around.”

Celia, slim and elegant, leaned over Mick’s bed and kissed his forehead. To Del’s way of thinking, there was far too much kissing going on, and far too many visitors. At this rate, she’d never get him alone.

But that concern was secondary to another. Judging by what Alec had said, this wasn’t the first time Mick had been shot. Del looked at Josh and Zack, to judge their reactions to that news. Their expressions were impassive, leading her to believe they already knew Mick had been shot before this.

“Don’t let Alec tease you, sweetie,” Celia said. “He’s glad I got him shot. Otherwise we’d never have ended up together.”

Alec looked very dubious at her statement, whereas Del was completely floored. What in the world did these men do that they took turns catching bullets?

Celia continued, saying, “If you stay with Angel, then we can visit you.”

Del knew that any second now Mick would agree to Angel’s offer, and then she’d lose her chance. She took a deep breath, unglued her feet and tongue, and declared, “I’m taking him home with me.”

The room fell silent, and as one, all eyes shifted her way. The women and two men stared, as if seeing her for the first time.

Mick smiled.

Under so much scrutiny, Del squirmed. Thanks to the rain and her long jog and the events at the jewelry store, she looked like something out of a circus sideshow. But determination filled her. She wasn’t a coward and she wouldn’t start acting like one now.

Moving out of the corner, she edged in around Angel, who kept kissing Mick’s forehead. Del got as close to him as she could, then stated again, “I’ll take care of him.” She made her voice strong, resolute.

Angel blinked, looked at the other people, then back at Del. “You will?”

“Yes. After all,” Del explained, “it’s my fault he’s hurt.”

Everyone’s gaze shifted from her to Mick. Expressions varied from male amusement, astonishment and fascination, to female speculation.

Del wanted to wince, to close her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear what Mick might reply to her appalling assumption. They were strangers in every sense of the word, but he’d claimed to want to see her again. What better opportunity would there be than for her to take him home? She’d never played nurse to anyone before, but how hard could it be?

She stood by his bed, refusing to budge, blocking Angel and her lips, in particular, and waited in agony.

Expectation hung in the air, along with a good dose of confusion.

Mick grinned, managed a one-shoulder shrug and addressed all six people at once. “There you go. Looks like it’s all taken care of.”



“WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT her?”

Josh looked down at Angel and shrugged. They stood in the hallway outside Mick’s door, which was as far as Angel would go. “Not a damn thing,” he said, “except that Mick is in a bad way.”

Angel pressed a hand to her chest, looking as if she’d taken the bullet herself. “The wound?”

Josh knew how close she was to Mick—practically a surrogate mom even though only nine years separated them. Mick’s real mother, from what he understood, had been plagued by too many personal weaknesses. She’d died long ago, and Angel and Dane’s family had become Mick’s. “I’m sorry, I meant that he’s been acting…infatuated.”

Relieved, Angel bent a chastising look on him. “Mick is a grown man, a very levelheaded man. He doesn’t get infatuated.”

Josh knew that, which only made it more baffling. Beautiful women flirted with Mick and he hardly noticed. But this one… Josh shook his head. “Call it what you want, but today he chased her down, took a bullet for her without even knowing her name. And according to Zack, the first thing he asked about, even before he got his eyes open, was Delilah.”

A slow smile spread over Angel’s face. “This is wonderful!”

“Did you hear me?” Beyond respecting her a great deal, Josh knew Angel was one of the chew-’em-up-and-spit-’em-out women Mick had mentioned during their lunch, so he carefully measured his words. “Today, just a few minutes ago, is the first time he officially met her. Before that, he just watched her jog every day.” Josh thought about Mick’s preoccupation with Delilah and added, “She’s not even all that eye-catching.”

Angel smacked him on the shoulder. Not hard, but it still stung.

He refused to rub it.

“Looks are nothing, and you should know it by now. Besides, I think she’s cute.”

Dane, carrying two colas, strolled up behind her. He handed one to his wife and asked, “Who’s cute?”

“Mick’s woman.”

Grinning, Dane said, “That little dynamo in there telling him she won’t leave now that he’s awake, not even to go home and get a change of clothes? And if she does leave, she absolutely will not take a bodyguard with her?” Dane laughed as he sipped his drink. “Both Alec and I offered, at Mick’s insistence. Alec even promised her we wouldn’t leave him alone, that one of us would be sure to stay with him until she returned. But she’s not convinced. If anything, that seemed to have the opposite effect on her.”

“I wonder why.”

“Because she likes being difficult,” Josh pointed out, disgruntled.

Dane grinned. “Actually, I believe she’s jealous of Angel.”

Angel frowned. “Of me? But Mick and I are like…”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Dane told her. “But then I know you both well. She doesn’t.”

“Why would she need a bodyguard?” Angel asked, changing the subject. Dane spent a few minutes explaining about the bizarre aspects of the robbery, and Mick’s concerns.

“For whatever reason, I don’t think Mick has told her that he’s a cop,” Dane said. “He tried telling her she could be in danger, but she’s blowing the whole thing off as nothing more than a fluke, or a coincidence. I get the feeling he’ll have his hands full with that one.”

Josh glared toward the closed door. “After spending several hours with her today, I can tell you that she’s about the most contrary woman I’ve ever met. All she did was bitch at me.”

Dane raised both brows. “Let me guess, you tried treating her as you do most women, flirting, teasing—”

“Condescending,” Angel added.

“I was charming!”

“—and,” Dane continued, “she was too smart to fall for it.”

“She wants to do things her own way,” Josh grumbled, still amazed that she’d taken exception to his manner, “and damn the consequences. She’s far too…independent and stubborn for my tastes.”

Barely stifling a chuckle, Dane clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s good for you, teach you a little humility around the ladies.”

Josh wasn’t interested in learning humility, thank you very much. He and the ladies got along just fine. Delilah Piper—well, she was just an aberration, a woman who couldn’t be swayed with sound male logic, smiles or compliments. In fact, she’d been rude enough to scoff at his compliments, as if she’d known they were false, which, of course, she hadn’t because he was damn good at flattery when he chose to be.

Josh felt renewed pique; no woman had ever scoffed at him before. “Do you want me to go drag her out of there?”

Dane’s expression filled with anticipation. “Oh yeah, I’d love to see you try.”

True, Josh thought. Knowing her—and, after spending hours closed up with her in the waiting room, he did indeed feel that he knew her—she’d probably kick him someplace dirty. His groin ached just thinking about it. She’d threatened to do him in once today already, when he wouldn’t agree to label her Mick’s wife, just so she could sneak in and see him sooner. Obstinate woman.

And besides, brute force wasn’t something he’d ever used on a female. He’d only been mouthing off because he’d used up his other tricks on her without success. “I’ll see if I can dredge up some diplomacy,” he told Angel and Dane, and sauntered into the room with all the enthusiasm of a man headed to the gallows.

One look at Delilah and he was again filled with confusion. What was it about her that had Mick going gaga? The woman was…lanky. That’s the only word he could think of that described her. Her arms and legs were long, her body slim, her breasts small. She appeared delicate when he knew she was anything but.

He had, however, noticed that she had a very nice tush, not that it made up for the rest of it.

And now she watched him, on alert, as if he had no right to be in the room seeing one of his best friends. His gaze met Alec’s and Alec shrugged. Celia stared wide-eyed.

None of them were used to Mick being thwarted. Most times, he told people what needed to be done and they did it. Mick had an air about him that demanded obedience. Women especially went out of their way to make him happy. Not that Mick took advantage of his appeal to women. Just the opposite, he seemed unaware of how they gravitated to him and he was the most discriminating male Josh had ever known. Beautiful women came on to him, but more often than not, Mick showed no interest at all.

Until now.

According to Angel, Mick had been that way since he was sixteen. Always a take-charge guy, always irresistible, but at the moment he looked ready to pull his hair out.

With flagging patience, Mick said, “I want you to be comfortable, Delilah. Go home and take the shower you mentioned earlier. Change your clothes if you want, get something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry and I’m used to the clothes now.” Her every word exuded stubbornness, though an edge of desperation could be heard, too.

Alec and Celia stood at the foot of the bed. Celia shook her head and Alec narrowed his eyes in contemplation.

Mick looked tired and frustrated and pained as he said, “I don’t need you to baby-sit me, Delilah.”

Josh decided enough was enough. Mick wasn’t in top fighting form or the conversation never would have gone on for so long. He hated seeing his friend this way, wounded and weak.

Josh had handled plenty of women in his day. This one was no different—at least not in the most important ways.

“Of course you need a damn baby-sitter.” Josh leaned against the wall, ready to take on Delilah and win. “Good God, Mick, you were dumb enough to get shot in the first place, then dumb enough to pass out. I can understand why she doesn’t trust you now to do as the doctors and nurses tell you. You’d probably yank out your IV, wouldn’t you? Or get up and parade around the room until you keeled over again. If she doesn’t stay right here like a good little mother hen to make sure you behave yourself, you might even—”

Predictably enough, Miss Delilah exploded. She went stiff as a spike, sputtered, then practically shouted, “Don’t you talk to him like that, Josh!”

Celia jumped a good foot at Del’s explosive outburst. Alec coughed to cover a laugh. Zack, always laid-back and calm, watched the drama unfold with interest. But then Zack knew Josh and likely suspected his motives.

“Well,” Josh reasoned, extravagant for the sake of their audience, “why would you refuse to go home and change out of your rumpled clothes unless you didn’t trust him to act intelligently?”

Delilah fried him with a look before bending down to Mick. She said very sweetly, “I’ll be right back.”

When she stalked around the bed, both Celia and Alec scurried to get out of her way. Josh didn’t know if it was the scent of mud and sweat that motivated them, or the intent look on her face.

As she passed Josh, she snagged his shirtfront and dragged him out after her. Biting back a victorious laugh, Josh looked over his shoulder in time to see Mick chuckling. Josh sent him a salute.

Once in the hallway, Delilah rounded on him. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. “You need to shower. I can see sweat stains under your arms, and I can smell you.”

Her face flaming with color, she kept her gaze glued on Josh, then turned her head the tiniest bit and sniffed. She wrinkled her nose and frowned.

Josh almost laughed. Truth was, Delilah smelled kinda nice, like shampoo and lotion and woman, not that he’d ever tell her that. Calmly now, because he didn’t want to offend her, he said, “Mick needs you here. I know that. Hell, you’re all he’s talked about since he came to.”

“Really?” She looked skeptical, and hopeful.

“Yep.” Seeing her uncertainty, Josh softened. Most of her aggression had been on Mick’s behalf, so he couldn’t really hold it against her. “He’ll be uneasy if he thinks he’s imposing. You don’t know him like I do. He’s not used to relying on anyone. Do you really want to start a relationship that way?”

She stared down at her muddy sneakers and mumbled, “No.”

Such a small voice for Delilah! And he noticed she didn’t deny the relationship part. Good. At least that meant she was as interested as Mick. Josh would hate to think his friend was the only one smitten.

“He also doesn’t want you to be alone. He doesn’t worry about women often, so you could show a little gratitude and go easy on him.”

Seconds ticked by before she finally admitted, “I didn’t—don’t—know those men.” She looked at him, her eyes troubled. “And I don’t want a total stranger waiting around on me while I shower and change. I don’t like to impose on others, either.”

Josh wanted to curse, to end this awful day by heading home and phoning a reasonable woman, a doting woman who’d give him the comfort of her body and her feminine concern. He did not want to spend more time with this particular woman, who treated him as an asexual nuisance.

But he knew what he needed to do. He drew in a breath and made the ultimate sacrifice. “All right. Then let me take you home. You can do what needs to be done, then I’ll bring you back. You can stay until visiting hours are over. I know he’d appreciate that.”

As if he hadn’t made the grand offer, she said, “Maybe Zack could drive me home?”

If it wasn’t for Mick… Josh drew a deep breath and reached for control. “Zack can’t. He has a four-year-old daughter and he needs to get home to her.”

“Oh.” Delilah eyed him, apparently liking his plan as little as he did. “I suppose Dane or Alec would be okay….”

He should have said fine, should have let Mick deal with her. Instead, he heard himself say, “Dane and Alec just drove two hours to get here, and I’m sure they’d like to spend their time visiting Mick, not chauffeuring your stubborn butt around town.”

Stiffening, she said, “I could take a bus….”

“And Mick would still worry. Someone shot at you today, lady.” From what Josh understood, someone had singled her out as a victim. It didn’t make sense, and he understood Mick’s concern. “You witnessed a burglary and it doesn’t matter that you told the police you didn’t recognize anyone, that you have no idea what’s going on, it’s still strange.”

She didn’t relent, and he said, his patience at an end, “Hell, I promise not to speak to you, all right? I won’t even look at you if it’ll make you happy.”

Using both hands, she covered her face. Her normally proud, straight shoulders hunched and she turned partially away.

Thinking she was about to cry, Josh froze. Damn, but he couldn’t deal with weeping women. There was nothing he hated more, nothing that made him feel more helpless. His stomach tightened, cramped. Delilah acted tough and talked tough, but she was still female, delicately built, and she’d been through an ordeal.

But she didn’t so much as sniffle. “I don’t mean to be nasty,” she said from behind her fingers. Her voice was miserable but strong, and devoid of tears. “It’s just…” She hesitated for a long minute, then dropped her hands and sighed. “I feel so responsible.”

Josh’s hostility and impatience melted away. She’d been involved in a robbery, shot at, stuck in the hospital all day in wet, grubby clothes with total strangers. If he’d known her longer, he’d have offered her a hug. But he’d just met her—and so had Mick. Josh was still worried. It wasn’t like Mick to fall so hard so fast. He’d never even seen Mick trip. On rare occasions, Mick dated, and then moved on.

Josh couldn’t think of a single female, other than family, who Mick would have invited to stay at the hospital with him. Not only would he have found it an intrusion, he was far too private to want anyone around him when he wasn’t up to full speed.

In his line of work, Mick naturally had to be careful, and that caution had carried over into other aspects of his life. Or perhaps it had always been there, left over from a less-than-wonderful childhood. But whatever the reason, Josh could tell that for this woman, Mick was throwing caution to the wind.

Settling for a friendly arm around her shoulders, Josh steered her back toward the hospital room. “The last thing Mick would want is for you to feel bad. About anything. As to responsibility, it sure as hell isn’t your fault those idiots showed up and started shooting. Okay?”

“Thanks.” She nodded, and even managed a small smile for him. Josh was struck by that smile, and for the first time, he had an inkling of what Mick felt.

They walked through the door, and she seemed to forget all about Josh the second her gaze landed on Mick. Nonplussed, he watched her hurry back to Mick’s bedside. “Josh is going to drive me home, but I’ll be right back.”

Mick’s surprise at the quick turnaround was plain to see as he looked from Josh to Delilah and back again. Josh winked. Oh yeah, he’d have fun ribbing them later with this one. He’d gotten her to do what the rest of them couldn’t. He hadn’t lost his touch, after all.

“Don’t worry, Mick,” Josh said, feeling in good humor for the first time since the shooting, “I’ll keep a real close eye on her.”

That earned him a frown from both Delilah and Mick. Delilah apparently didn’t think she needed to be watched, and Mick obviously didn’t want any male looking at her too closely. Jealousy, Josh decided, and was glad he’d never suffered such a miserable emotion.

“You really don’t have to rush,” Mick told Delilah after dragging his attention away from Josh. But it was plain to Josh that Mick wanted her back where he could be the one keeping an eye on her, protecting her, not any other man, not even a friend he trusted. He was also in pain and doing his best to hide it. Damn stubborn fool.

Delilah glanced around the room. “Will your visitors stay all night?”

“No,” Mick said, making the decision before anyone else could answer.

Alec coughed again. Celia rushed to assure her. “We’ll be at a nearby hotel for the night, but we’ll stay here until you get back. How’s that?”

As if it was up to her, Delilah nodded. “That’d be perfect. Thank you.” Then she bent to kiss Mick again. “I’m going to give my cell phone number to the nurse, just in case.” She turned to Josh. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll be right there.”

She looked suspicious at his delay, but didn’t question him on it. She turned and moseyed out.

The door had barely closed before Angel and Dane came back in. Angel propped her hands on her hips and said, “Now that she’s not within hearing distance, tell me the truth. Does your shoulder hurt?”

With a crooked grin, Mick admitted, “Hell, yes.” Then he turned to Zack. “If you could see about some pain medicine…?”

“The doctor ordered it for when you woke up, but you were too bullheaded to take it.”

“It would’ve made me sleepy.”

Josh shook his head. “And God forbid he miss a single second of Delilah Piper’s visit.”

Zack, always something of a peacemaker as well as an EMT, laughed. “I’ll go get your nurse and she can take care of you.”

Josh walked over to the bed, where both Dane and Alec now hovered. Josh knew they were dying for some answers. Together the two men ran a private investigations firm, and they could sniff out trouble without even trying.

“The other men got away. The police are still looking, but they haven’t turned up anyone.”

Mick’s curse was especially foul. “What about the one I shot? Did they find out anything from him?”

“The idiot had ID on him. He’s Rudy Glasgow, and he’s still unconscious.” Josh knew that despite Mick’s injuries, he’d want to know it all. Still, he hesitated before saying, “It doesn’t look good.”

Mick dropped back onto the pillow with an aggrieved sigh. “I know my shot to his leg didn’t put him under. Was it the head wound from when he fell?”

“Yeah. You two mirror each other—both shot, both with conked heads. Only his was worse. He rattled something in his skull and the docs don’t know when he’ll come to, which means they don’t know when he’ll be able to answer questions, if ever. You were lucky that you landed more on Zack than the concrete when you fell.”

Not amused, Mick cursed again.

“I also turned your gun over to the officer first on the scene. He insisted, of course, and with you passed out cold…” Josh shrugged.

“That’s standard procedure,” Mick assured him, not worried. “I’ll be issued a new one.”

Josh nodded. “I notified your sergeant and he’s getting in touch with Internal Affairs.”

“Which means I’ll have to see the damn psychiatrist, too.” He groaned.

“Just procedure?” Josh asked, though he already knew any shooting required a follow-up visit with the shrink, just to keep the officers healthy in mind and body.

“Yeah.” Mick looked weary beyond belief. “When she leaves here tonight—”

Dane held up a hand. “We won’t let anything happen to her. I promise.”

And Josh assumed that meant one or both of them would be tailing her the rest of the night, even after she finished her hospital visit. Delilah wouldn’t like it if she knew. But then, Dane and Alec were damn good, so she wouldn’t find out unless they wanted her to know.

Alec looked thoughtful, and with his intense, dark features, the look was almost menacing. It had taken Josh some time to get used to him. “So you think the robbery was a sham? Just an excuse to shoot her?”

“They aimed for her head,” Mick rumbled in disgust, describing how he’d covered her, and the shooter’s angle. He gave details he hadn’t given when Delilah was in the room. “They didn’t threaten anyone else. Hell, they didn’t even look at anyone else.”

“But why her?” Dane asked.

“I haven’t got a clue. Far as I can figure, she was just a customer, like the other two in the shop.”

Though Mick said it, he didn’t look quite convinced. Josh didn’t like any of it, especially since his friend seemed determined to be in the middle of it all. “I’d better get out there or she’ll leave without me.”

“She doesn’t have a car here, does she?” Mick asked, concerned over the possibility.

“No, but believe me, that wouldn’t stop her. Prepare yourself, Mick, because she’s about the most obstinate, bullheaded woman I’ve ever run across.” He squeezed Mick’s left shoulder. “Take it easy while we’re gone.”

“You won’t let her out of your sight?”

“Just when she showers.” He grinned at Mick’s warning growl. It amused the hell out of him how possessive his friend had gotten, and how quickly. “Quit worrying. I’ll bring her back safe and sound.”




CHAPTER THREE


MICK WATCHED JOSH GO, and though he trusted Josh implicitly, he cursed the injury that kept him confined to bed. “She could have been killed today.”

Angel sat beside him on the narrow mattress. “Is that why you agreed to go home with her? So you can protect her?”

He nodded, but he saw that both Alec and Dane knew his reasons were more varied than that. And more territorial, more sexual. Protecting wasn’t the only activity he had in mind. He’d never burned for a woman before, but now he felt like an inferno ready to combust.

Why the hell would someone want her dead?

Mick remembered the way she’d been looking the place over, the way she’d initially smiled at the men—a smile he’d considered merely polite, stranger to stranger.

Zack came back in, the nurse trailing him. She gave Mick a dose of morphine through his IV, and seconds later the discomfort receded and lethargy settled in.

Mick relished the relief from the searing pain, even while he fought to stay awake and sharp enough to think.

“Relax,” Dane ordered him.

“I have to figure out what’s going on.” A vague sense of impending doom, of limited time plagued him.

Dane shook his head. “No. You’re in no shape to start snooping around. Let it go for now. The bastard who shot you isn’t going anywhere, and he won’t stay out forever. When he comes to, you can question him. Or better yet, let someone else do it.”

“No.” Even with the morphine clouding his mind, Mick knew he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to get some answers. “I need to call my sergeant, to tell him I want to stay advised. And I need to talk to the head nurse. I need to—”

Angel pressed her fingers over his mouth. “You need to sleep. I have a feeling when Delilah gets back, you’ll be determined to stay awake and alert.”

Alec cocked a brow while cuddling Celia to his side. “He wouldn’t want to miss a minute of that, as Josh said.”

Mick relaxed, thinking of Delilah’s emotional strength, her boldness, how she’d kissed him, her taste, her heat. They were right—he didn’t want to miss that. In the next instant, he fell asleep.



MICK WOKE TO THE SOUND of quiet tapping. The room was dim, with only one light glowing in the corner. The curtains were all closed, but he could tell it was night. He’d probably slept another four hours or so, and it enraged him. There was a lot to consider, a lot to do, not the least of which would be getting to know Delilah.

The tapping continued, light and quick. He bit back a groan as he turned his head on the soft pillow and zeroed in on the source. There, sprawled in the room’s only chair, a laptop resting across her thighs, was Delilah.

God, she was lovely.

A nurse had evidently brought her a pillow and blanket in an effort to help make her comfortable. The padded lounge chair could have served as a bed in a pinch. Delilah had the back reclined, the pillow behind her shoulders, the blanket thrown over the arm of the chair.

Her rich dark hair, freshly washed, swung loose and silky around her shoulders. The light from the laptop cast a soft blue halo around her. Her eyes looked mysterious, purposeful, as she typed away. Mick watched her, aware of the acceleration in his pulse, the expanding sexual tension.

She’d changed into a pair of baggy jeans and a miniscule, snowy-white, cropped T-shirt. Her sandals were off, tucked beneath the chair, her bare feet propped on the edge of the counter in front of the window. Two flowering plants now sat there, no doubt from Angel and Celia.

Delilah’s slim legs seemed to go on forever, and Mick, still only half-awake, pictured them around his hips, hugging him tight while he rode her, long and slow and so damn deep. He visually followed the trail of those incredibly long legs, and when he came to her hips he imagined them lifted by his hands, her legs sprawled wide while he tasted her, licked her and made her scream out a climax.

A groan broke free from him and Delilah jumped, nearly dumping her laptop. “Mick!”

Heat throbbed just below his skin. He was so aroused he hurt, but he’d done nothing more than look at her and give his imagination free rein. What would it be like to actually have her?

He swallowed and said with a drawling, raw deliberation, “I don’t suppose you’d like to give me another kiss?”

Slowly, her gaze glued to his, she set the laptop on the floor and stood. “I didn’t mean to be so brazen earlier. I just…it amazed me that anyone would do what you did.”

“So you kissed me?”

Arching one dark brow, she half laughed. “I wanted to devour you, actually.”

The shadows in the room did interesting things to her body. “Do you always say exactly what you think?”

She shrugged. “I guess so. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m out of practice when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“You can say whatever you want to me, okay?”

She nodded. “You saved my life, and you got hurt in the bargain. I saw you and I just…wanted to kiss you.”

That didn’t sound right to Mick. “So it was about gratitude?”

“Yes…no. I’m not sure.” She made a helpless gesture, then shifted her feet and tucked her silky hair behind her ear. “The thing is, touching you seems…right.”

He understood that. Touching her seemed right, too. Hell, devouring her seemed right. He’d have gladly gotten started right that minute, but she stood there, waiting, uncertain, very different now that they were alone. She wasn’t as defensive, and there was no reason for her to be protective.

No woman had ever been protective of him. Except Angel, but that was back when he’d been a boy. With Delilah it felt different.

“Everyone else has left?”

“Yes. Angel and Celia gave me the number of the hotel where they’re staying so you could call if you needed them. The man, Alec, said you had his cell number if you wanted to make sure he was on duty. Whatever that means.”

Mick nodded, understanding perfectly. Alec would wait and watch for Delilah to leave. He’d protect her until Mick could take over. There wasn’t a more capable or harder man than Alec Sharpe. Knowing he’d keep his eye on Delilah gave Mick a new measure of relief.

When he didn’t speak, she gestured at the flowers and said, “The women bought these in the gift shop.”

“That’s just like them.”

She fidgeted. “They’re…friends of yours?”

“More like family. As close as family can be without all the baggage.”

“Oh.” A mix of emotions crossed her features—confusion and relief. “Josh and Zack said they’d be in touch in the morning.”

“I figured as much.” She stood there before him, barefoot and fidgety, and Mick used the opportunity to look at her. The loose jeans hung low on her slim hips, showing a strip of pale belly between the waistband and the hem of her shirt. He saw the barest hint of her navel, enough to fire his blood, to make his mouth go dry.

He glanced at her breasts and found himself smiling. She was indeed small, but still so damn sexy he ached all the way down to his toes. As he stared, her nipples tightened, pushing him over the edge.

He needed her closer. Because she looked uncertain, he asked, “You didn’t like kissing me?”

“I did!” she blurted, then bit her bottom lip. She twined her fingers together and shifted her bare feet again. “I just didn’t want you to think that, you know, just because you were nice enough to save me that you had to…”

“Had to what?” Inside, he grinned, knowing what she thought, but in the mood to tease her.

“You know. Be sexual with me.” His gaze shot to her face and she rushed to add, “I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way I did. I mean, you’re incredible. Gorgeous and sexy and hard and…what woman wouldn’t want you? But I’m just me. I didn’t know if you wanted to—”

Just that quickly, his humor fled. “I want to.”

“You do?”

He was hard, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “Come here, Delilah.”

As if reassured, she strode to the bed and sat beside him, this time to his left. “You want me to kiss you again?”

Unwilling to rush her or scare her off, he didn’t move. He wanted her to be as free as she’d first been, taking what she wanted from him, when she wanted it. Was there a better male fantasy than having a bold woman who knew her own mind and went after what she needed?

Holding himself still, Mick said softly, “I’d love for you to kiss me again.”

“You don’t need anything first?” She searched his face, looking him over, he assumed, for signs of discomfort. “A drink? More pain medicine?”

I need you. “No.”

Tentatively, she laid a hand on his chest. “You’re so warm,” she whispered, her fingers lightly caressing, edging under the loose neckline of the hospital gown. “I watched you sleep for a while and it made me nuts.” She glanced at him, meeting his gaze. “You even look good when you sleep. I had to get out my laptop to keep busy, just so I wouldn’t end up touching you. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Mick had no response to that, other than a rush of heat. The thought of her watching him and wanting him fed his awareness of her, making it more acute.

She touched his throat, then slid her slender fingers over his uninjured shoulder. “I think,” she whispered, watching the progress of her hand, “that you’re about the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

If they’d been anywhere other than a hospital room, he’d have pulled her under him. He shifted, felt the pain deep in his shoulder and cursed.

She quickly pulled away, then poured him a drink of water and lifted the straw to his mouth. “Shh. This will help.”

Getting her under him would help, but he didn’t say so. He drank deeply, hoping the icy water would cool his urgency, return a measure of his control. It was insane to want a woman this way.

After setting the paper cup aside, Delilah again rested her hand on his chest. Her gaze locked with his. “Your heart is racing.”

“I’m horny,” he explained, because anything more eloquent was beyond him while she continued to touch him.

Her light blue eyes twinkled and her lush lips curled into a satisfied feminine smile. “No sex for you, at least not until you’re healed.”

That “not until” stipulation—which pretty much guaranteed he’d eventually have her—about stopped his heart. Without another word she leaned down and touched her mouth to his. She was gone before Mick could respond.

Her blue eyes were warmer, softer, and he rumbled, “Again.”

She looked at his mouth, bent, stroked his bottom lip with her hot little tongue. “Do you like that?” she breathed.

He groaned.

Still so close he tasted her breath, she asked, “You’re not married or anything, are you?”

“No.”

“At first, I was afraid Angel or Celia—”

“No.” Using his left hand, he touched her hair. Warmth, softness. “I love your hair.” He tangled his fingers in the silky mass and brought her mouth back flush with his.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and obligingly gave him the longer kiss he wanted.

Dull pain pushed at Mick, but he blocked it from his mind. It was nothing compared to the feel of her. “Open your mouth.”

She did, then accepted the slow, deliberate thrust of his tongue. He stroked deep, taking her mouth, exploring all the textures and heat, and the taste that was uniquely Delilah.

They both groaned.

Delilah pulled back. She touched his jaw and asked, “Did I hurt you?”

He had to stop this or he’d lose it completely. “Of course not.”

“I’m not married or anything, either.”

Mick, still on the verge of a meltdown, managed to lift a brow at that candid disclosure, and she shrugged. “I just thought you should know,” she said, her words coming in soft, uneven pants, “being as we’re…well, doing this.”

“This?” She stayed close and the scent of her, lighter now and touched with lotion and powder, filled him. He wanted to wrap himself in it, wanted to hold her close to his body until their scents mingled.

“The whole sex thing.” She drew a breath, but kept her gaze steady, unwavering. “I assume that’s where we’re headed. I mean, I’ll have you all to myself in my apartment and I want you. I assume you want me, too.”





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