Heat of the Night Page 13
"You're really something else, Erin Mahoney."
"Something else good?" she asked, her heart pounding so hard it was tough to get that wry note just right. "Or something else bad?"
He chuckled then and she could picture him raking his fingers through his hair. "I guess we're going to find out, aren't we?"
Yes! Erin pumped her fist and did a little dance with her feet. When she thought she could speak without sounding like a giddy schoolgirl who had just been asked to the senior prom, she said, "I guess we are."
She had just taken a very big step off a potentially very high cliff. But at the moment, she felt as if she could fly. And that was all that mattered for now.
13
He should go home. Take a shower, catch as much uninterrupted sleep as possible. God knew he was dead on his feet. He couldn't even feel his feet. And one more cup of that god-awful coffee, his stomach lining would go numb as well. But somehow, instead of heading crosstown to his generically furnished little apartment, he ended up pulling into a guest space beneath Erin's building.
"Go home, Brady." He laid his weary head on the steering wheel. If Erin had half a brain in her head, she'd tell him the same thing. He pried open one eye and looked at the dashboard clock. Seven o'clock— p.m. He hadn't slept in… He didn't want to do the math. All he knew was that the last place he'd been relaxed was approximately twelve floors above his head. And, like a homing pigeon, that was where his body wanted to return to.
He wasn't even sure if she was home. He'd called her once in the middle of the day, but had gotten Gina instead. She'd told him Erin had several meetings with prospective clients that afternoon, then was planning on calling it a day. With no small amount of amusement, Gina had pointed out that her business partner hadn't had much sleep and seemed a little off-kilter to-day. Then she'd sobered and asked about the investigation, which he'd not been at liberty to discuss.
So why he felt the need to talk it over with Erin he had no idea. Maybe it was because she brought a sort of levelheaded, yet no-holds-barred type of common sense to the table. He wanted to bounce ideas off of her, get her input.
"Yeah, right. You just want to get her in bed, O'Keefe." He swore under his breath and slammed out of the car, half hoping she wouldn't be home so he'd have no choice but to return to his own. Because his reasons for being here had almost nothing to do with sex.
Five minutes later she was answering the door and he forgot every reason he'd come up with for being anywhere but right where he stood.
She immediately moved toward him and ran a hand over his lapel. "Man, and here I thought this suit couldn't get any more wrinkled."
He managed to smile at that. "Hello to you, too." He resisted the urge to smooth his hair, straighten that lapel. Like it would have done any good anyway. Except it would have made her laugh. God he loved to hear her laugh. "Sorry I didn't call first."
"I'm not. I love surprises." Then she grabbed him by both lapels, pulled him inside her apartment and kicked the door shut behind him. Her lips were hard on his before he knew what was happening.
But it didn't take him long to figure it out. He was tired, but he'd have to be dead not to respond to her.
He wasn't dead as it turned out. But when he went to reach for her, she shook her head.
"That was just a hello kiss. Now you're going to straight to my bathroom and taking a good-night shower." She didn't wait for an argument, although he wasn't trying real hard to find one. Okay, not at all. Getting naked and soapy sounded like just fine to him. So he let her shuffle him to her bathroom.
"I seem to recall another time and place in this very room," he said, then stumbled as she started peeling off his clothes. He could really get used to this.
"Yes, well, I don't think I'll be joining you this time, Supercop."
He pouted. Actually pouted. But it seemed like the only rational response. "But you promised to lather my back."
"That was yesterday, this is today." She reached in the shower and yanked the faucet on. Then she reached for his buckle.
He called a halt to things right there. "If you're not providing any tub toys for me, I'm not sharing my toys with you either."
"Oh. Well. I hate it when a grown man won't share his, urn, toys."
He shrugged. "Then maybe we should renegotiate this."
She walked to the door. "Shampoo is on the shelf under the spray. Soap on the shelf in the back. I'll be out here when you're done."
"Spoilsport."
"Me? Never. Come find me when you're done. There's plenty of hot water, so take your time and enjoy." He started to argue, but she raised her finger. "Lose gracefully, Brady. It will earn you brownie points for later."
"I love brownies."
She was smiling as the door shut between them.
He finished stripping and climbed under the shower. Any protestations he'd had about her plan died the instant the hot water began beating on his back. He automatically reached up to shift the showerhead to massage mode, then realized she didn't have that feature. I'll have to fix that, he thought. Then froze in the act of reaching for the soap. Where the hell had that come from? One romp in bed and a shower and he was redesigning her living space to accommodate him?
He should be concerned. Very concerned. But, the truth was, he was beat, the water felt good and all he wanted to do was wash the last eighteen hours of work off himself so he could go find Erin. And what, O'Keefe? He hummed under his breath as the suds ran off his body and down the drain. Right at that moment, he honestly didn't care. As long as she was with him while they did it.
As it turned out, what they did was sleep. Or he did anyway. Helluva way to impress a lady, he thought, eyes drooping shut as she rubbed his back. He was stretched out facedown across her bed, which is where she'd basically pushed him when he'd stumbled out of the shower wrapped in nothing more than a towel. His clothes had disappeared.
He'd had every intention of rolling right back over and pulling her down on top of him, but then she was straddling his back and doing something that felt pretty close to nirvana along his spine. After which she'd moved to his shoulders and he'd given up the fight.
"Next time it will be your turn," he said groggily.
"Damn straight it will be," she'd returned. "And don't think you can come crawling here after playing superhero and expect this kind of treatment every time."
"Won't," he mumbled, fighting the long, deep slide into sleep.
"What time do you have to be out of here?"
"Hmm?" God, her hands were pure magic. He never wanted her to stop touching him.
"Never mind. I'll make sure you get up in time to go home and change. Does 5:00 a.m. sound about right to you?"
"Five. Meeting. Six."
He thought he heard her chuckle. Or maybe he was already dreaming. Maybe he was home right now and this was all a dream. He smiled sleepily. Best damn dream he could recall ever having.
Erin leaned down and kissed the back of Brady's neck. He was down for the count. She crawled off him and thought about trying to turn him around so his head was on the pillows, but one tug on his arm and leg convinced her she'd never manage it. Given the somewhat adorable smile on his face, he didn't seem to be suffering for having his legs half hanging off the bed. Her bed. Of which there was now no room for her to be in. Unless she wanted to lie sprawled sideways the way he was.
She laughed and shook her head. "Sure planned that one out well, didn't I?" She tucked a pillow under his head, put his pager in his hand, then snagged another pillow and a throw blanket for herself. She paused in the doorway after flicking off the lights. The glow from the living-room lamp played across the bed, highlighting his big sprawling body. Damn but he looked good in her bed, she thought, sighing. And she liked knowing he was there when he was not out saving the world. In fact, she liked it a lot.
Brady's hand was vibrating. It must have fallen asleep, he vaguely thought. It vibrated again and he roused himself, realizing he was the on
e that had fallen asleep. And the vibration was the pager clenched in his fist.
It took him a moment or two to figure out where he was, but an instant later he was sitting up in bed looking for her. He remembered lying across the bed while she rubbed his back…then it was all a blank. The bath towel he'd been wearing was tangled with the twisted bedsheets, so at some point he'd crawled under them. But as there was only one pillow, apparently he'd crawled in alone.
He glanced at the clock. Four in the morning. Where was Erin? He looked around for his pants and found everything laid over a blue chair in the corner. He got up and pulled on his pants, then went out into the living room, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the dark. He spied her immediately, curled on the couch.
His pager hummed again and he swore silently and moved back to her bedroom, closing the door behind him before reaching for the phone. Five minutes later he was muttering under his breath and pulling on his clothes. Carrying his shoes and his holster, he moved back into the living room. He stopped by the couch and somehow ended up sitting on the coffee table staring at her while she slept. He debated carrying her to bed, but she looked quite comfortable all snuggled under a thick blanket and he didn't want to risk waking her. It was bad enough she'd had to give up her bed.
Still, he couldn't resist reaching out and lightly tracing her cheek with his finger. "What am I going to do about you?" he whispered. It was four in the morning and he was back on the job, with no idea when he'd be done again. And yet he was already planning on seeing her whenever that time came. If she'd let him.
He let his hand fall to his side. What kind of relationship was that going to be? He didn't have to ask, he knew. It would start out fine, with them both making compromises and not minding because they so badly wanted to see each other. But after a while it would be clear that she was making far more compromises than he was and the resentment would creep in. And finally that resentment would choke the life out of whatever had been between them. He'd never lived it himself, but he'd seen it happen often enough to know the drill.
He couldn't keep himself from touching her again. He really needed to hit the streets, go home and shave and get to the station. But he sat there, watching her sleep, wishing like hell he was a better man. Or at least a man who could offer her something real. Maybe they could have had something together, built something real. For the first time in his life, he honestly thought he wanted to try. It shocked him, the depth of this sudden need. He felt as though he barely knew her, and yet he felt he'd known her forever. Maybe when you found the right person, you just knew, he thought.
She rustled in her sleep, as if she somehow sensed his conflicting emotions. He made himself stand and move away from her. He should write her a note, but what would it say? He couldn't end it that way. Besides, she'd know where to find him when she realized he'd gone. She'd call him and he'd tell her then. Tell her the situation was impossible. Tell her he couldn't just play at this, that his heart was starting to get involved. No, he couldn't tell her that. But it didn't make it less true. He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He didn't know what in the hell he was going to tell her, he just knew he had to pull out right now, or they'd both end up being sorry for it. She'd understand.
He stopped at the door and looked back at her, feeling a tight ache seize his throat. Yeah, she'd understand. That's exactly why he was falling in love with her. She understood him far too well. Better than any-one. Enough that she'd let him go when he asked. "Damn."
Erin stretched and almost fell off the couch. "How on earth did I end up—" Oh yeah. She looked to the bedroom door. It was open. Her heart sank. He was gone.
She sat up and pulled the blanket around her. Something about the empty feeling—both in her apartment and inside herself—told her this emptiness was permanent. She got up and looked for a note or…or something to tell her that her gut instinct was wrong. No note. And she wasn't wrong. She knew it.
She climbed in the shower and tried to think about work. She'd signed a new client yesterday and another one was expecting a call from her later with a response to some of the questions he'd asked. She had to get her act together, meet with Gina to go over a few ideas, then get going on both these accounts. She knew she'd have to deal with Brady, too. But she didn't want to think about that right now. The bad feeling she had, despite the fact that he'd come to her last night, wouldn't go away.
She let the hot water beat down on her, thinking that he'd stood under this very spray the night before. Dammit, maybe she should have climbed in with him. Maybe if they'd made love again, she'd have felt more confident this morning. But he'd been in no shape to play, no matter that he would have tried anyway. She smiled despite the pain she felt squeezing her heart. "Stupid superhero."
She finished her shower, dried off then headed to the closet. It was silly to be this hung up over him already. But it didn't feel like that. It felt as if she'd known him forever. And it wasn't because she'd known him as a kid. This went way deeper than that. They'd…connected somehow. And she was pretty sure he'd felt the same.
But that didn't change the fact that he was a cop with some strong ideas on commitment. Namely that those two things couldn't coexist. She yanked on some hose and grabbed the first suit she laid her hands on. She should let him go. She did understand his reservations. She had a truckload of them herself.
Her hands stilled in the act of buttoning her blazer. But dammit, maybe she didn't want to give him up. Maybe what they could have together was better than what they'd have apart. Maybe the good that came of sharing their lives would outweigh the tough parts they'd have to go alone. Maybe she was strong enough to be what he needed. At least she thought she might be. Enough to give it a try.
She sank into the chair in the corner of her room. But what if she failed? The pain would be…she didn't even want to go there. It would be the worst hell.
So what were her choices? Walk away and always wonder what if? Or fight and risk losing? She thought about calling Gina and hashing this out with her, but she didn't make a move for the phone. Instead she felt her lips slowly curve upward. Because she realized she'd already made her decision.
It simply wasn't in her to be a quitter. And maybe that was exactly what Brady needed in his life. Some-one who wouldn't quit on him when things got tough. She knew it wouldn't be easy. She laughed harshly. "An understatement if there ever was one." But she also knew she wanted to be the one he stumbled home to. He'd respect her, respect that she had commitments, too. They'd be there for each other. She'd make him understand that. Stubborn, pigheaded man that he could be. One way or the other.
14
Brady shuffled out to his car. His eyes were gritty and burning, his stomach churning over the greasy take-out food he'd put in it, and his head throbbing with yet another tension headache. God, he loved his job.
He dragged himself behind the wheel and glanced over the running shoes lying on the passenger seat. So much for the jog he'd planned on today. He'd make it up tomorrow. Maybe. Right now all he wanted was—
Sleep. He'd been going to say sleep. Surely. But that wasn't the word that had popped into his mind. Erin had. Erin's smile, Erin's laugh, Erin's heavenly hands running all over his body.
Groaning, he turned the key in the ignition. No way was he intruding on her again tonight. He'd tried to call several times today but had never gotten in contact with her. That she hadn't returned his calls spoke volumes to him.
He was pulled from his dreary thoughts when his cell phone rang. He tugged it out of his pocket, all prepared to blister whoever it was that wanted even a second more of his time. That is, he was, until he noticed the number calling in. Erin's number. He was punching the answer button before his mind could come up with all the reasons why he shouldn't.
"Hi."
"You sound beat," she said.
"Picked that up from one word, huh? Good ears."
"I also have good hands. You sound like you could use them right about now."
"You're tired, you need rest, I know. Why don't we meet at Jimmy's tomorrow. Will you have some time?"
She didn't badger him about the case, even though he knew she was probably dying for details. He appreciated that. Do the right thing. She doesn't deserve to be strung along. "Yeah, I'll make time." The right thing was telling her in person, he told himself. That was the only reason he'd agreed. Not because he had to see her again one last time. "I'll call you in the morning if that's okay."
"That would be fine." There was a pause, then, "Brady, listen, I know you're uncomfortable with where this is going." She stopped and laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I promised I wasn't going to do this over the phone."
Brady's heart pounded. So she was going to end it first? He should be relieved. There would be no scene, no problem. Just two adults who realized things were getting out of hand. A clean break. He should have given her more credit, just told her straight out. But he hadn't.
And he knew why. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Don't say the words, Erin, was the first thought that ran through his head. That was not the reaction of a man who was ready to end it.
She blew out a long breath and Brady heard the vulnerability in her tone when she continued. "I know you have a million reasons, almost all of them good ones, for not wanting to pursue this…thing between us."
"Thing?" His pulse continued to hammer.
"The plan's not working, Brady."
"The plan." Was she saying goodbye or…or not?
She swore under her breath. "Yeah, you know. The plan I had. Where we just—" She didn't finish.
If he hadn't been a ball of nerves, he'd have been amused at her inability to name their liaison. She was such an enjoyable contradiction. "Where we just… release?"