Bad to the Bone (8 page)

“He calls in, doesn’t he? That’s what you said last night. So why look for him?” Sully walked toward her as he spoke. “Why lie about orthodontists? Unless he’s really missing. Is Phil Munro really missing, Jessie?”

Jessica cursed silently and retreated. She didn’t have an answer for him. Not yet.

The closer he got, the faster her pulse raced. She couldn’t banish the image of a predator from her mind. Not when the personification of the word stalked her in broad daylight. She was his prey. That much was obvious, and it scared the hell out of her.

The fear that sped her heart had nothing to do with safety. Not physical safety. A threat like that she could have handled. She’d killed men who had been bigger and stronger than Sully, men who deserved to die for unspeakable acts, but she wondered if any of them had been more dangerous, more intense.

The way Sully looked at her made her wonder how thin his veneer of civility was. Made her wonder what the hell a man like him was doing on Jericho Island. The stone-cold glare that accompanied his question made her think twice about lying to him. But she did anyway.

“I really don’t like your tone. And I don’t know how many times I’m gonna have to tell you this. Phil is fine. I came down here to look at a stupid calendar. So what? It’s not a crime.”

“Not unless you’re destroying evidence.”

Jessica backed up another step and kept backing up. She was unhappy with herself for giving way but unable to stop her feet from retreating. Every brain cell she had was scrambling to process the jumble of sensation that came with being in the same room with the man and the object of his undivided attention. The easiest way to deal with the unfamiliar feelings was to create some distance. Unfortunately he wasn’t getting the message, because he just kept coming. Thank God Phil’s office was huge.

“Sully, Sully, Sully … you’ve got to be kidding. Destroying
evidence
? There is no evidence! There is no crime! And while I’m on the subject, why are you here? Aren’t you just a bit out of your jurisdiction? You act like you’re following up on some big case instead of a little schoolgirl prank!”

“Oh, but I don’t think it’s a prank. I think something scared that kid. Something she’s not telling. And
I imagine you know what it is. I imagine you told her not to tell.”

“Cops have such active fantasy lives,” she said cuttingly.

He didn’t deny it; she almost wished he had. Instead he raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly as she backed herself into a corner. Her shoulders came up against the walls.

“Darlin’, you’d be surprised at what I can imagine given just a tiny bit of inspiration.” His voice was low, full of innuendo.

“Appalled would probably be more like it.”

He laughed. “Maybe, but my money’s on … fascinated. Your eyes are too hungry for you to be appalled at much of anything sexual, Jessie. So take my advice—leave the innocent act to the innocents. Now, if you’re through sweet-talkin’ and sidetrackin’ me, I would like to see that schedule.”

“You got a warrant?” she snapped, irritated by his ego.

“Am I going to need one?”

Resigned, Jessica gave him the page, hoping he’d back off to look at it. Sully didn’t move anywhere, effectively trapping her in the corner. Nor did he glance at the sheet in his hand, his gaze never wavering from hers.

The beginning of a shiver slid up Jessica’s spine, but she resisted the urge to look away. “Hey, I gave it to you, Sully. Do you think you can stop trying to intimidate me now?”

“The only thing I’m trying to do is to figure out what it is about you that yanks my chain.”

“E-excuse me?”

“It’s the damnedest thing,” Sully said, recognizing it himself for the first time. “I don’t trust you. I’m not
sure I like you. You remind me too much of myself. You got an edge, Jessie.”

“My name is Jessica. Try to remember it. Now why don’t you move … before I cut your heart out.”

That slow smile she was beginning to hate eased over his face. “Oh, it’s too late for that. I don’t have a heart.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Practically a fact.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll aim lower.”

“Jessie, girl, you’ve got a wicked mouth.”

“Is that a crime too?” Her voice came out little more than a bedroom whisper.

“Oh, no. That is definitely not a crime.”

She’d never heard so much approval in one sentence. In an instant the antagonism between them dissipated, replaced by an unbearable tension … anticipation. Her lips felt suddenly dry, and she had to fight the effort to wet them with her tongue. That would be an invitation to disaster, an invitation to be kissed.

As Sully lowered his head, she realized her mistake. Men like Sully never waited for invitations, which was why she’d always avoided them.

“Darlin’—” His lips were almost on hers. “The only crime would be letting a mouth like yours go to waste.”

Soft
.

Her lips were so soft, Sully thought. No lipstick; just Jessie. Nothing between them, and everything between them. Sully touched his tongue along her bottom lip, testing her resistance, promising her pleasure. Promising himself pleasure.

When she opened her mouth beneath his, satisfaction flooded through his body, a surge of possessiveness at the simple acceptance. He hadn’t expected Jessie to give herself up. He had expected her to keep her distance, to pull away like she had last night.

Deepening the kiss, he shoved the schedule in his back pocket and buried his fingers in her hair, cradling her head. Her mouth wasn’t wicked at all, he discovered. There was a sweetness and an innocence that blew him away. It was so completely at odds with the woman she pretended to be.

He’d taken more than his share of kisses in thirty-four years, but never one like this. Never one that wrapped itself around his soul so completely. Never
one that felt brand-new and just for him. Never one that threatened his self-control.

That’s what kissing Jessie did. Right now he wanted to forget all the reasons he didn’t trust her. He didn’t care if this was the wrong time, the wrong place, and the wrong woman. Kissing her was the only thing that had felt right in longer than he could remember.

He moved closer until only a whisper of space existed between them, teasing them. Jessie’s hands crept up his chest. Without taking his mouth from hers, he let his hands slide down her neck and catch her shoulders. He turned her and pressed her hard against one wall. As his tongue explored her mouth, he slowly laid his lower body against hers.

As Jessie shifted her hips to accommodate him, his arousal stroked her intimately. He could feel the tension building in her, the little shudder that she tried to control, but Sully wanted more. He wanted to hear her moan with the same frustration he felt.

He took her arms by the wrists, and pinned them to the wall with his hands, leaving her vulnerable. Her breasts brushed his shirt and teased him until he finally settled his chest against hers, letting himself enjoy every inch of her as he sank into her softness.

Jessica couldn’t think clearly. All she could do was feel. Everything was forgotten as Sully seduced her with his mouth. The world narrowed to the scrape of his tongue against hers, the weight of his body molded to hers. By the time she remembered the derringer, it was already too late. Sully had jerked his mouth from hers as if she’d stung him.

“What the hell?” he hissed. When she struggled to loosen her arms, he tightened his grip. “I don’t think so. Not yet. Not until I see what we’ve got here.”

He brought her arms down, dragging them behind
her and holding her wrists with one hand. The whole procedure was quick and fluid—she assumed his expertise came from years of practice at subduing suspects. With the other hand he began to unbutton her top. She guessed his facility at this particular job was also due to years of practice.

Not bothering to argue or struggle, Jessica stood perfectly still and let him do what he wanted. If she struggled against him as he unbuttoned her blouse, he’d simply add resisting arrest to the impending charge of carrying a concealed weapon. They were alone; he was the cop. And he wasn’t even sure he liked her. If he liked her, he would have just reached in and dragged the gun out. Doing it this way was to push her buttons. Literally.

Her options were limited at best. Lying to him wasn’t going to do any good.

Telling him the truth wasn’t going to slow him down either. Not now.

He was a man with a mission. He wouldn’t believe her anyway. She’d done a fine job of damning herself. She called herself a fool for allowing Sullivan Kincaid past her defenses. Fools usually paid a price for stupidity; this was hers. He had the proverbial “smoking gun,” or would have soon enough.

Except for the coldness in his eyes as he caught and held her gaze, she wouldn’t have known how angry he was. His fingers weren’t harsh or cruel. Oh no, his touch was gentle, seductive even as he lingered over each of the buttons. The back of his hand brushed against her flesh too often for it to be an accident.

And all the time he stared at her, pushing her, daring her to explain the derringer away before he uncovered it. She didn’t. The game was over, and he’d won. Before they were done she’d have more important
things to explain away than the weapon. She wasn’t about to waste her breath on the small stuff.

The silence around them was so complete that she could hear the fabric buttons grate against the tight buttonholes as they popped free. Jessica refused to close her eyes as his fingers reached the last button, but she did stare at the ceiling. She gritted her teeth against the feel of his knuckles rubbing against her midriff.

When Sully finished, he spread her shirt open in two quick sweeps of his hand. She imagined him looking down for the first time. Envisioned the expression on his face as he saw the derringer stashed in her cleavage.

The idea that tortured her most was her absolute certainty that those incredible blue eyes took their sweet time as they roamed over her bra-covered breasts. Suddenly Jessica felt her nipples harden as the air-conditioning conspired against her to create a chill in the office. At least that’s what she told herself. The other explanation was unthinkable.

“Well, well … what have we got here?” he mused finally. “A cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die bra?”

Sully’s joke fell on deaf ears. He didn’t expect a snappy answer. Didn’t really want one, but he needed the time to think. Truth be told, his mouth had gone dry the moment he dropped his gaze to her breasts. Jessie’s bra was all but transparent. Her nipples were clearly defined and … perky. Sully swallowed. Ah damn, were they ever perky and begging for attention he itched to provide.

But there was the little problem of the gun. And the lies. And Phil Munro.

The fog of lust that had clouded his judgment and
blunted his instincts cleared as he stared at the small silver derringer nestled between her breasts. Some sort of elastic or Velcro sling obviously held the barrel and trigger guard in place. Only the edge of the grip peeked above the center of her bra.

Her chest wasn’t exactly heaving, but her breathing was spectacularly erratic. Each breath rose and fell in an odd cadence that poorly imitated controlled breathing. Well, he allowed truthfully, it indicated her
attempt
to take long deep, smooth breaths of air. But all that careful control only served to amplify a chest that needed no amplification.

Sully decided a moment of silence was in order.

The quiet inspection began to grate on Jessica’s nerves. When Sully didn’t get it over with, she forced her eyes down and snapped, “What’s the matter? You’ve never seen a gun before?”

“Lady,” he said as he redirected his eyes to the derringer, “that’s not a gun. That’s a peashooter.”

“Yeah, well, it shoots hollow point peas.”

Sully raised an eyebrow but not his eyes. “I am impressed … but not by the toy gun.”

Horrified, Jessica felt the heat of a blush rise to her face and prayed it hadn’t started at her chest. But she knew it had. To make matters worse, she was beginning to lose the ability to distance herself. He had a way of dragging her back into the moment, back to the unexpected chemistry that existed between them.

Sully could affect her with a simple sentence, and she didn’t like it. Somehow that felt more like a violation than the search, than being exposed. But she’d be damned if she let him know he could get to her. She’d spent her life making sure no one got close enough to slip inside her defenses. Wishing for the moon was
dangerous. Weakness was vulnerability. She couldn’t afford either of those.

She’d made a mistake with Sully, and she was about to correct it.

Forcing herself to remain pliant in his grasp, she let coldness seep into her words and into her eyes. “How delightful, but impressing you is not a life’s ambition for me. So why don’t you take the gun and let me go? While you’re busy drooling and being impressed, I could catch my death of cold.”

“Darlin’, looking like that you could catch the Dallas Cowboys.” He smiled and drew the derringer from between her breasts without letting her arms go. When he slipped it in his back pocket, he added, “I think you look healthy enough to fight off a chill or two while I check for other weapons.”

She bit her tongue, refusing to rise to the bait. This was a game with him. He patted her down with his free hand. He didn’t actually pat; he stroked, slow as molasses. Jessica trembled with the effort to control her anger. The search was purposeful, deliberate, and intended to shake her. The man knew exactly how to get to her.

Threats, raising his voice, rough handling … none of that would have fazed her, and he knew it. He wanted her off balance. He wanted the truth any way he could get it. The man was a bloodhound, and he’d sniffed out her lies before she’d ever told them. Now that he had concrete proof of his suspicions he wasn’t going to let this go. All good cops were like that. Part bloodhound, part hellhound.

Jessica decided Sully was more one than the other.

When he was satisfied she was clean, he let her go. “Now you want to tell me who you are and why you carry the peashooter? And don’t tell me it’s for self-defense.
I’m getting real tired of bein’ lied to. Or would you rather wait until I run you through the computer?” He tapped his pocket. “You do have a license for this, don’t you?”