Bound By Temptation (6 page)

“Does Brett know about…you know…me and you…uh what happened that weekend?”

Tag had been out of the area visiting family back then, but that didn’t mean a whole, heck of a lot. In her experience, men gossiped as much as women—particularly when it came to their sexual conquests.

A flat look entered his eyes. “Did you tell him?”

She pulled back in surprise. “Of course not.”

“Then he doesn’t know. It’s nobody’s damn business.” He jerked the key out of the ignition with more force than necessary.

Apparently her question had offended him. But how was she supposed to know if he’d boasted about getting her out of her panties and into his bed? No, she wouldn’t have expected such juvenile behavior from him, but then she hadn’t expected him to dump her and ignore her phone calls either.

Turning away from him, she pushed open the passenger door, wincing at the needles of pain shooting from her shoulder down her arm. Stiffly, she swung her throbbing legs out the door and settled her feet on the pavement. Cuddles jumped down and turned to stare up at her—anxiety burning in her mismatched eyes. Leash held loosely in her bandaged hand, Emma scooted forward and tried to stand.

Tried being the operative word, since agony stabbed through her knees the moment she tried to straighten. She collapsed back in the passenger seat, a stifled groan escaping her clenched teeth.

A muffled thump sounded, and suddenly Lucas’s big body filled the space in front of her. Leaning down he placed a determined hand on either side of her waist and lifted her forward and up. That agonizing, stabbing pain struck again, but this time she was already on her feet and distracted by the heat his huge body shed, and the musky, slightly sweaty smell of his skin. Good lord, if the combination could be collected and bottled it could be sold as an aphrodisiac.

“We should have swung by the emergency room. Gotten your knees and arms checked out,” he said, his earlier annoyance giving way to grim concern.

She shook her head absently. Going to the emergency room would have added a twenty percent co-payment to her current financial crisis.

“I’m just stiff. A handful of aspirin and a long soak in the tub will take care of that,” she said, trying remember to breathe as he dropped his left hand and slid it around her waist.

She should protest, push him away, but the support felt heavenly, and there was a very good chance she wouldn’t be able to make it up the path under her own two legs. And then the musky, delicious smell that was uniquely Lucas flooded her lungs and crept into her brain. Magical endorphins spread from cell to cell, loosening knotted muscles and melting her willpower.

“Let’s get you into the house.” He tightened his arm around her until he’d locked her against his side and was supporting most of her weight.

With each step up the walkway, his heat and scent tantalized her. Slowly her aching body relaxed, and her knees became more limber. He really was a six foot-four-inch pain killer.

Cuddles stuck close to her side, showing no interest in investigating the rich, green grass along either side of the concrete path. Before they left the lawn behind, Emma glanced up at Lucas. “She hasn’t piddled in hours. I should probably give her some time to pee before taking her inside.”

Lucas grunted, shifting directions. He guided her onto the grass to their right. “You seem more stable.” He eased his arm from around her waist, waited a second, as though giving her time to adjust and then dropped his arm completely. “I’m going to grab your suitcase and the insulin. Don’t move. She’s got plenty of leash, let her do the wandering.”

Strangely bereft and vulnerable, as the hot band of support around her waist vanished, she turned her head, watching him lope back down the path. Her brow knitted as she caught sight of his car. No wonder he’d been concerned about her luggage. It was sitting to the left of the ajar passenger door—right out there in the open. That must have been the thud she’d heard just before he’d lifted her out of the seat.

Warmth flooded her from heel to head when he shut the open passenger door and hit the button on the car key to lock it. Lucas was a couple points past paranoid when it came to security, he even carried a concealed gun. She’d always figured his caution had to do with his job with Naval Intelligence. For him to leave his car door wide open like that…he must have been more worried about her than he’d let on. She forced herself to turn away. Time to stop mooning over the man and concentrate on her own responsibilities. She had no idea whether Cuddles had done her business yet or not.

Luckily the large wet patch on the grass beside the dog was a very good indication that she had indeed taken care of business while Emma had been distracted. And now it was time to take control of her own mobility. Much more time spent pinned against Lucas’s side, infected by his scent and warmth and the delicious play of his muscles against her body, was bound to decimate her sense of self-preservation. She couldn’t afford that kind of intimacy.

By the time Lucas reached her, she’d managed to hobble most of the way to his condo. Although he didn’t say a word, the flat, disapproving look he leveled on her was a clear indication he wasn’t impressed with her fortitude. Still, he must have known she’d refuse any further ministrations from him, because he didn’t try to slip his arm around her waist again. Split between disappointment and relief, she continued on—shuffling one foot in front of the other—swinging her leg from the hip, rather than bending at the knee. As long as she didn’t make any demands on her knees and avoided lifting her legs, she’d get by just fine.

Which held true until she arrived at the three shallow concrete steps leading up to the front entrance of his condo. In the grand scheme of things, those three steps should have been a piece of cake. They were only about four inches off the ground, after all. Except her knees balked big time at bending those four extra inches.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.”

Another thud, and she found herself swept up in hard arms, leash and all. Cocooned by bulging biceps and a firm chest, heat blasted her. Good lord, she’d thought he’d warmed her before, but with both his arms around her and his chest against her left hip, breast, and cheek—he’d transformed into a sauna and was busy turning her into steam. She tried not to melt all over him.

He juggled her slightly, opened the door, waited for Cuddles to skulk through and kicked it shut behind him. Without speaking, the dog trailing behind them, he carried her through the cool dimness of the entryway, into the bright sunny living room and deposited her lengthwise on the leather couch.

Unfortunately, the sofa carried dangerous memories of naked, sweaty flesh pressing her into damp leather. Her core temperature, which was already overheated thanks to her sleek, muscle bound ride, spiked into the danger zone. Her cheeks burned like fire.

Lucas started to straighten, caught her gaze, and froze. Their eyes tangled, locked, heated. His look shifted to her lips and lingered. A moist web of sensuality tightened around them.

“What the hell, Luc. Give the girl some breathing room.”

The voice was familiar, but Emma was too busy basking in the hungry gleam burnishing Lucas’s eyes from brown to copper to bother placing it. For one long moment Lucas hesitated, and then, with reluctance stamped across his face, he straightened and stepped back.

Off balance and adrift, she watched him back away. It took far too long for her anti-humiliation instincts to kick in and banish the regret that they weren’t alone.

“I’ll get some ice for your knees,” Lucas said in a gruff voice, his hand sliding into his bulging right pocket and emerging with the vial of insulin.

“Ice? That sounds awful.”

“It will reduce the swelling.” He held up the bottle of insulin. “The fridge, right?” Without waiting for a response he turned with a jerky—and uncharacteristic—swing of his hips and disappeared into the kitchen.

Suddenly noticing that she still held the leash, although there was no tension to the leather, she slowly pushed herself up and looked around for Cuddles. The dog stood rigidly next to the couch, the leash a thin leather puddle in front of her.

“Hey, baby—” She unhooked the clip on the dog’s collar and let the leash drop, then ran a hand down the tense, arched back. With a sigh Cuddles jumped onto the couch and curled into her side. Emma shuffled over to give the dog more room. Every shimmy sent pain cascading down her arms and legs. Even her back ached. Ice? God no. But a hot bath sounded like pure heaven.

“Nice dog,” that familiar voice said again. “How long have you had her?”

Instinctively bristling and preparing to go all mama bear, Emma turned her head. She placed the voice before her gaze landed on Brett Taggart’s square, sincere face. Unlike his roommate, or Officer Asshole, he wasn’t being facetious.

Relaxing, she smiled at him. “I picked her up today. But we’ve already bonded.”

His gaze dropped to the dog trying to burrow into her waist, and he offered them both a small, lopsided smile. “I can see that. Looks like you chose well.”

Her smile widened. Why oh why couldn’t she have fallen for this man instead of the one banging things about in the kitchen? Brett liked her dog. And he wouldn’t have dumped her and disappeared.

If only her hormones had settled on Brett. He and Lucas looked enough alike to be brothers. Same height and build. Same brown hair, although Lucas’s was a shade or two darker. Only their eyes were different. Although the difference there lay in the color, not the expression. They both scanned their surroundings constantly with the same sharp, watchful expression.

She frowned. Come to think of it, all the men who wandered in and out of Lucas’s condo shared the same cool, intense gaze. As though they were continually on alert, scanning the environment for hidden dangers.

Rather like Officer Addario—which made sense when it came to his profession. As a cop he’d need that kind of attentiveness to his surroundings. But why would the rest of them need such hyper vigilance?

“Earth to Emma,” Brett said softly.

Working up a smile, she offered a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, I guess I’m preoccupied. How have you been?”

His eyebrows raised. “Better than you.” He scanned her bandaged hands and the thick padding beneath the split fabric of her jeans. A nasty chill frosted his blue eyes. “Too bad Luc didn’t take all those bastards out, instead of just the one.”

She started to laugh, but faltered at the cold look on his face. He had to be teasing. A multiple homicide because of her skinned hands and knees? But the icy, furious expression that seethed in Brett’s eyes indicated he was serious.

Her mind flashed back to Lucas’s instant and deadly reaction to the men in the van. He hadn’t hesitated to unleash a boatload of bullets into the vehicle. Nor had he balked at killing the man who’d grabbed her.

Just what kind of training did Naval Intelligence officers undergo? Lucas had said his job was mostly clerical, auditing and such.

“You don’t need to worry, Emma,” Brett said, gingerly settling on the edge of the wood coffee table in front of the couch. He leaned forward to take her hands, but backed off at the low, rumbling growl that erupted from Cuddles’s throat. “We won’t let those bastards near you. You’ll be safe here. You have my word on that.”

With two frozen bags of vegetables in hand, Lucas bulldozed his way between Emma and his roommate, forcing Brett to stand and back up. Emma frowned at the flat, cold warning Lucas shot his friend.

What in the dickens had that been about? Possessiveness? But that would imply interest, which his three months of avoidance completely negated.

“Make yourself useful,” Lucas snapped, “and grab her suitcase. It’s on the front steps.”

Brett cocked his head, eying him shrewdly. “Where do you want it?”

“My bedroom.” Lucas glanced at Emma. “I’ll take the couch.”

She really needed to nix that idea, but she lacked the energy to argue her case. Best to save her strength and tackle that chore later.

He waited for Brett to leave before taking a seat on the couch next to her calf and gently settling a bag of frozen vegetables on each knee. Cuddles watched him suspiciously but kept the warning limited to her eyes.

“I called Rio, he’s sending the sketch artist here,” Lucas said, resting his hands on his thighs.

Emma focused on the restive tap of his fingers against the faded denim of his jeans, rather than the heat and hunger sparking in his eyes. “I don’t have to go down to the police station?”

Lucas shook his head and relief lightened her at least ten pounds. She’d dreaded the thought of the trip to the station since her painful waddle up the path to the condo.

A long, pulsing silence fell and Lucas shifted on the couch, his thigh pressing against her leg. She scooted over a bit more and one of the makeshift ice packs slid off. Leaning over, he caught it and settled it back on her knee.

“When did you eat last?” Lucas asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t kept track.” In a bid to avoid his gaze, she closed her eyes and settled against the armrest, relaxing as the icy vegetable packages numbed her knees. The pressure of his thigh burning into her leg disappeared.

“Settle back and relax while I rustle something up.”

His voice sounded a bit more distant with each word, as though he were walking away, even though she didn’t hear any footsteps. She rolled her head to the left and peeked through her lashes as the room fell silent. No sign of Lucas, but judging by the muted thump of cupboards closing and the metallic bang of pots clanging, he was making good on his promise to feed her.

A short time later the rich, thick scent of French toast reached her. Her stomach clenched with hunger, but not for food—rather an emotional and sensual knotting. He’d made her French toast twice during those three days. The morning following their first night together, and then for dinner, two nights later, after she’d casually mentioned that French toast was one of her favorite dishes.

Had the meal he’d “rustled up” been an intentional reminder of the weekend they’d spent together? If so, it was working. Memories reeled through her mind. Sensual memories. Hot, heady flashbacks that moistened the flesh between her legs and paralyzed her heart and lungs.