Hard to Hold (9 page)

Her own heat was embarrassingly immediate, but he wasn’t thawing.

God, this was humiliating. He had to respond.

She pushed past the self-doubt, ignored all self-respect. She teased his lips with
the tip of her tongue, shifted her hips to caress him. She could do this. She’d done
it before. Used temptation to smash his self-restraint. She’d beat down his resistance
if it killed her. And unless he had changed, it shouldn’t take long.

That was her last rational thought.

She hadn’t just poked a caged bear; she’d sprung the damn thing.

In an instant, Nick’s hands were all over her, lifting, kneading, then featherlight,
caressing, drawing tiny circles up and down her spine, too knowing of what his touch
would do to her, his way of confirming the barriers were now down, no-holds-barred.
He’d taken over and was back in charge.

Her pride screamed at her to resist, at least a little.

Too late.

His
lips,
his
tongue were suddenly the more determined, the more expert.

She hadn’t forgotten, nor had he. This would be hard and fast. As urgent and unstoppable
as it had always been. Luxuriating in tenderness wasn’t his style. Hers either.

Her brain disconnected from her body. Sucking in oxygen wasn’t an option, so she breathed
through him until he finally relinquished her lips for the curve of her neck, his
mouth searing a scorching path across her too-sensitive skin. His clever hands fanned
the rising wildness she didn’t want to contain. She’d waited too long to relive these
sensations. Common sense and inhibitions be damned.

His fingers hit the snap on her jeans the instant hers hit his.

He lifted her, settled her upon the counter, dispensing with her jeans and underwear
and his own, in a few swift moves. He stepped between her thighs, his fierce erection,
hot against her skin.

And waited.

He was giving her the chance to call a halt to the insanity.

She wasn’t even tempted. It had been too long. She was ready. Desperate. She hooked
her calves round his thighs and angled her hips higher to capture him. A deep groan
vibrated his chest, hot with warning, sexy as all hell. In one smooth action, no hesitation—she’d
had her chance—he thrust forward and up, filling her.

Breaking free of their kiss, she threw back her head on a gasp and hitched her legs
tight around his waist, open and wanting more.

He didn’t disappoint. He never had.

Capturing her lips once more, he swallowed her moan as his hips dipped and surged,
harder and faster, building a firestorm she didn’t want to contain. Her body strained,
clenched, then tossed her into an exquisite spasm that tortured deliciously in its
refusal to abate. And God help them both, he followed her.

Long minutes of terrible silence past, her head heavy on his shoulder, his lips still
buried in the hollow of her collarbone.

When she felt him disentangle her legs and make to disengage, she tightened her arms
and clung tighter. She wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. Not until she beat back
the surge of tears threatening to break because of what she’d just done to drive him
away.
Odd that Nick’s hold should tighten, too, as if he shared her pain.

Chest rising and falling way too fast, she finally released him and let him step back.

Predictably, Nick didn’t pull his punches. “That has got to be the most incredibly
dumb thing we have
ever
done, and God knows we’ve both won crowns for stupidity in the past.”

She would have slid from the counter if she could have trusted her legs enough to
hold her upright. She wasn’t sure her cheeks would ever recover from the fiery blush
she couldn’t control, but at that moment, the very end of the world would not have
induced her to look away. One hint of vulnerability from her, and his damned sense
of guilt would see him hanging around forever. What she needed him to see was—nothing.
Her apparently unmoved by what they’d just shared. Because that would sure as hell
would piss him off and see him slamming out her door.

“I’m truly sorry, Anna. I’ve never regretted an impulse more in my life.”

She’d prepared for his anger, had counted on it. What she hadn’t expected was an apology.
The tortured regret dulling his eyes. It was like being speared with a blunt icicle
through the chest. “Spare me the guilt, Nick. We’re both adults, so no foul, no regrets.”

There was nothing she could do about the tiny tremors racking her frame. She just
hoped he’d put them down to ardent endeavor rather than the shame washing over her.

She watched him tidy himself, then stoop to retrieve her jeans, which he passed to
her. He, too, didn’t duck his head but held her stare.

She waited for the tongue-lashing, the furious eruption her words deserved. She waited
for what felt like a lifetime, then thrust at him again because he wasn’t heading
toward the door. “What’s the matter, Nick? It’s not as if I’m going to fall pregnant,
is it?”

“It ever occur to you, Anna, that if you’d done anything other than throw cheap, flippant
comments whenever things got serious between us, we might still be together?”

…

Her ploy hadn’t worked. There’d been no hasty grabbing of belongings, no backpack
slung on his shoulder, no front door slamming as he quit. Damn it all, stubborn as
he was, he was staying put.

Awkward did not begin to define what awaited her when she stepped out of her bedroom
after taking a shower, her hair hanging damp around her shoulders.

Nick was waiting for her, all closed off and unforgiving.

This time she couldn’t hold his stare. He’d always brought out a raft of emotions
in her; never before had raw embarrassment been one of them. Nausea that had nothing
to do with the baby soured the back of her throat. This time she was sick at herself.

He’d taken a shower as well, in the guest bath. It was obvious they’d both tried to
wash away what had happened. Judging from his expression, all stony and tight, it
hadn’t worked for him any more than it had for her.

The silence between them spoke volumes. For once she didn’t try to break it.

By now he’d have worked out the incident in her kitchen had been a play. A tactic
to distract and chase him away. He’d give himself a hard time for falling for it.
Her, he’d send to the emotional freezer where she’d remain locked until he forgave
her. Which would be never.

She considered apologizing but knew it would be futile. Nick in unforgiving mode was
selectively deaf. Complete honesty wouldn’t move him. Any admission that from the
split second he’d taken control, she fallen in love with him all over again, hard
and fast as the sex itself, would be met with derision. It would be the “again” that
would do it. He’d never believed her the first time round. Never believed that from
the first time she’d laid eyes on him, she’d decided if no one else wanted them and
most likely never would, they’d belong to each other. Forever.

God, her whole body ached at what she’d lost. He hated liars, anyone who dared betray
his trust even more, and she was both. She’d deceived and betrayed him, used intimacy—about
the only thing that had always been sacredly honest between them—as her tool.

She doubted her future held carefree flippancy now. Oh, fun and laughter hovered on
the horizon—she was having a baby wasn’t she?—but she’d be sharing it alone. The one
man who mattered to her, the only one she’d want to share herself and the future with,
would be long gone.

The taint of helplessness sickened her, clouded her concentration, and caused her
to stumble. Her recovery was as abrupt as the return of her resolve. This wasn’t about
her. This was about her baby and Nick. She had a responsibility to protect them both,
no matter what the personal cost.

For the immediate future, the baby was safe. She was confident Antila would see to
that. But Nick? She’d have to talk to Antila, somehow persuade him of the advantages
to having her ex around. For a start, Nick would provide a second safeguard against
the psycho who was threatening her child. With Nick close, she’d also have a front-row
seat on how the police investigation was progressing, information that could prove
useful to Antila.

She’d be manipulating Nick again, but at least he’d be alive—hating her, but alive.
She could live with that.

She really didn’t have a choice.

Chapter Eight

Funny, Anna had known Nick most of her life and would never have described him as
restless or a fidget; he was too damned self-controlled. But an hour into sharing
office space with him, and she was ready to make a grab for his gun. To shoot him.
To shoot herself. It didn’t much matter.

When he wasn’t stabbing at the keyboard and muttering furiously, he was forever striding
across to the vast interactive screen and with frustrated waves of his arms, sorting
the splayed card deck of files it displayed.

“That’s it. I can’t work like this. You’ll have to move into the studio with the others,”
Anna insisted, throwing her mouse aside.

“Nope. This information is sensitive, confidential, and hardly makes for comfortable
public viewing.”

Unbidden her gaze flew to the screen. He flicked his wrist and quickly closed a series
of highly colored slides. But he wasn’t quick enough.

Anna screwed her eyes tight shut, refusing to believe what she’d seen. Her gynecologist
had endured savage torture. The scattering of grotesque images laid bare the agony
he had suffered.

She was vaguely aware of Nick muttering, “Fuck, you weren’t supposed to see those
pictures.”

But she had seen them. A foul reminder of what would happen to anyone unlucky enough
to become embroiled in her messy life. Two people were already dead. There was every
chance Nick would be next. And her baby, if she was having a girl. Antila had made
it clear he only wanted a son.

She swallowed past the flint chips in her throat, opened her eyes, but avoided the
eerie blue glow of the now-blank screen. Just in case. “Fine, then use the spare bedroom
across the way as your office.”

“Can’t. I don’t trust you, so as a precaution, we get to stay within ten yards of
each other at all times. That’s how it works.”

She pushed away from her desk and stood up. “Not for me it doesn’t. I will not be
hemmed in, especially by you. It’s like lying down next to a starving tiger and hoping
for the best. I need space, freedom. I can’t design the next level of the game and
contrive the necessary traps and puzzles with you constantly interfering with my creative
process. You’re stifling my imagination and my ability to think, and I’m behind schedule
as it is.”

“So help me out with a name, and I’ll walk. Who’s the father, Anna?”

God, she hated when he smiled like that, innocent and murderous at the same time.
And no way was she revealing Antila’s identity. He’d taken a shot at Nick, and next
time he wouldn’t miss. Damn it, she had to get hold of him. Explain why Nick had moved
in. “What if I need to make some private calls?”

“I’ll step into the corridor. Just don’t expect them to be private.”

“You mean you’ve tapped my phone lines?”

He shrugged, then scoured his face with his hand before dropping his arm to his side.
“Not yet, but I’m working on it. What happened to your doctor will help speed up the
permission I need. It should be through by the end of today. If you’ve nothing to
hide, you’ve nothing to worry about. This isn’t about protection anymore, Anna. This
is a murder investigation.”

She leaned forward across her desk and jabbed a finger in his direction. “And you’re
professionally compromised because of the personal connection between us. So do us
both a favor and assign someone else, someone you trust, because we both know the
Service has more leaks than a sieve at sea. Besides, this is breaking every goddamn
rule and protocol you put in place.”

For a moment he stared at her finger as if daring her to try jabbing it just one more
time. With a dry swallow, she lowered her hand. Then, annoyed that he could intimidate
her so easily, she stood and moved round to the front of her desk. She casually hitched
her hip against its edge so he wouldn’t think he’d won.

“True, but as I’m on temporary leave because of this”—Nick gestured to his side where
the bullet had grazed him—“I’m on my own time, and I intend to drive you crazy until
you give me what I want. All I have to do is tighten my hold on you and keep squeezing
until you go nuts from the lack of freedom. Shouldn’t take long, knowing you.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” she muttered to herself.

“Hope that’s not a challenge, Anna.”

Bugger. She’d forgotten he had the hearing of a hare. She shook her head in hot denial
as he got to his feet and strode toward her. He settled himself on the edge of her
desk beside her. “Okay, so let’s review what we do know.”

Like a maestro conducting sweet music from an orchestra, he flicked and waved his
hands at the huge interactive screen he positioned at the far side of her office.
Multiple file icons flashed up before him. In a series of wrist twists and rapid finger
stabs, he opened one after the other, selecting the text he needed. As if by some
devilry, the software chewed through the data, blacked out for a second, and then
opened to reveal a brightly colored graph.

She couldn’t help but watch in lustful awe. Interactive technology was a thing of
beauty, particularly when made to dance by hands as strong and confident as his. Tanned
artistic hands, long clever fingers… Hell, he hadn’t even touched her, and her skin
tingled. She scrubbed at her cheeks to hide the embarrassing glow she just knew had
tinted them pink.

“I’ve plotted a timeline from when all this started. Gifts are in red, threats in
blue. Notice anything?”

Only that the clock was ticking down, and she had to get rid of Nick before placing
a call to Antila. She furrowed her brow and pretended to assess the constellation
of dots. Of course she spotted a pattern, but no way was she sharing that with Nick.
“There’s no obvious pattern aside from starting roughly around the same time.”

“Hmm. Notice how the intervals between the blue dots have shortened while the red
have all but trailed away. That means one of your admirers has become more desperate
and is accelerating while the other, the one sending gifts, appears to have lost interest.”

“Oh, goody,” she muttered drily. The problem was Antila hadn’t lost interest; he never
would. Not in his son. He’d just shifted his attention to neutralizing the other threat
against her until the birth. “What’s the green dot stand for?”

“The attack on me, seemingly random, but I bet you anything you like it’s connected.”
He shifted closer, brushing his thigh against hers.

She swallowed thickly. Dug her nails into her palms. They couldn’t risk physical contact.
Had he already forgotten what had happened in her kitchen?

“Ready to get what you know off your chest yet, Anna?”

Dear God, he had to be able to hear the beat of her heart; it was all but deafening
her. “Has it occurred to you that while you’re dickering about with pretty colored
dots, Mr. Blue is probably out there building up a head of steam, and I for one, don’t
want to be around when he blows. So why aren’t you out there looking for him?”

She’d aimed for bitchy, but knew she’d missed by a mile.

“He’s not going to get anywhere near you. I give you my word.”

Oh, God. She could handle angry Nick, but concerned, protective Nick was another matter.
One more husky promise from him and she’d fold; the temptation to lean into him would
be too great.

“But I can only help if you let me, Anna.”

If he pressed his thigh any tighter against her, she’d slide off the bloody desk.
“No, you can’t help me. You never could.” She realized the minute the words left her
mouth she’d offended him. And he had an extremely thick skin.

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said softly.

Her skin shrunk a few sizes. She wanted him angry and gone, not wounded. He’d once
been her best friend. She’d once loved him enough to protect him from hurt. Still
did. She wasn’t worried about him hearing her heart beat any more. The stupid thing
had ceased to pump. No doubt as shocked by that unwelcome little revelation as she.
She couldn’t possibly still be in love with Nick. She’d barely survived the last time.
“This isn’t about you, Nick,” she said quietly. “Not directly.”

“Someone tried to kill me because of you. I’d say that was fairly direct.”

“You don’t know that. It could have been anyone. God knows, you’ve pissed off enough
of the wrong type of people. Even some of your own men. But if you’re worried, take
yourself out of the equation. I can fix this if you just trust me and butt out.”

She needed him gone. And not just because of Antila and his threats. The old stirring
was back. The zinging of her skin. The quick flow of blood. The itch to touch and
stroke. The refusal of her lungs to function properly. The fist around her heart.
The scouring pain in her chest that she’d lose him. Loving Nick had never been easy.
Too many conflicting emotions. Pleasure and pain in equal measure.

She swiped the moisture pooling in her palms against her silk-skirted thighs.

He lifted his hands and in a series of wild weaves closed down the timeline they’d
been discussing and opened the horror file. Bloody, tortured images filled the interactive
screen. “Stop taking potshots at the Service. I weeded out those who couldn’t be trusted.
Now take a good, long look at what they did to Adam Western, Anna. Imagine the pain
he suffered. Imagine his fear. And now try and envisage yourself in the hands of the
person who did that to him. Still want to handle this on your own?”

She screwed her eyes closed. “Shut it down. It’s ghastly…cruel.”

“Yes, it is. It’s grotesque. And next time that could be you.”

“I’ve nothing to say,” she repeated stubbornly. Nick could so easily end up like Western.
Antila didn’t just kill those who defied him, he tortured them first. And he’d undoubtedly
do the same to Nick if he stood in the man’s way. To save Nick, she’d have to keep
the two of them apart until she somehow bargained them all out of danger. Nausea swirled
in her stomach. She pressed her hand against her midriff to keep it at bay.

“
Silence
won’t save you this time, Anna.”

Stubborn, impossible man. He hated loose ends. He was a man who needed answers. That’s
what made him such an outstanding investigator and menacing interrogator.

“Always worth a shot, though I admit it didn’t save me last time,” she tossed back.
She probably shouldn’t have brought up their breakup, but she couldn’t help herself.
With his body close enough for her to feel the heat he was throwing, the memory of
what his temper has cost them loosened the guard on her tongue.

“It might have done if you’d said one word in your own defense,” he said on the back
of a sigh. Deep enough to suggest he’d revisited that horrendous night as often as
she had, and still hadn’t figured out what the hell had happened—where in their relationship
they’d gone so wrong. “Damn it,” he continued quietly, “I accused you of having an
affair. The very least you could have done was refute it.”

He was blaming
her
? “You didn’t give me a chance.”

Her desk groaned. Alarmed that it might be buckling under their combined weight, she
glanced down. Nick’s fingers curled around the lip of cherry-red resin surface. So
tightly, his knuckles glowed bluish white and she was ready to bet his palm would
leave an indentation.

“I’m giving you one now.”

“Why?”

He turned to look at her, a sad smile not quite tipping the corners of his lips. “Because
the sleepless nights are killing me.”

And he was killing her. Nick was strong, resilient, a survivor. He moved on, needing
no one. So why did he sound so…so…alone?

She nibbled her lip. How would he react if she just curled into him and sobbed her
heart out? Not for herself. For him.

Then her eyes flicked to the grotesque images on the screen. Nick could end up like
that, her mind screamed. “I’ve nothing to say,” she reiterated, wrapping her arms
across her body in a vain attempt to hold herself together. She wished she had a rank
and serial number she could recite.

“Why the hell do you always hide from the truth, Anna?” he asked wearily, arcing his
palm to the left and sweeping the hideous graphics off the screen. “Two maniacs are
after you and your baby. Why won’t you take all the help you can get?”

His disappointment—in her—pierced deep; she’d have preferred raw anger. At least she
could have blazed back. But instead, he seemed strangely defeated, and she hated that
she’d done that to him.

“Or don’t you care about the baby?” he asked.

She couldn’t respond. His accusation had driven all breathe from her body.

“You can’t use a kid like that,” he continued. “You can’t force someone to love you,
Anna, to fill in the empty places from our past. That’s dream territory, though admittedly
you’ve built a fairly good life for yourself on fantasies.”

She dampened the flames licking at her soul—she had to contain the bitter fury building
inside her. God knew what would spill from her mouth if she didn’t. “This baby means
everything to me. Having it, loving it, will be the happy-ever-after you denied me.”

“I don’t believe in happy-ever-afters. Care to hazard a guess why not?”

Unfair! He’d played his part in the debacle that had ended their marriage. He was
so damaged by his past, so damn distrusting of anyone getting close enough to hurt
him, he’d chucked her out rather than listen to anything she had to say. And if only
he had listened, their marriage might have survived. She’d loved him enough to forgive
his hateful accusation. He hadn’t loved her at all. Not if he could just walk away,
forgetting the promise he’d made to always be there for her.

Her temper reared. This time she couldn’t stop it. “If I’d betrayed you by having
an affair, believe me, I wouldn’t have denied it. I’d have been grateful that you’d
noticed. Even when you were home, you retreated into yourself, refused to share what
was going on in your life, made it clear that it was territory angels should fear
to tread. But I dared. I pushed and I probed, and I refused to give up, and that’s
what got to you.” She crossed to a line of shelves. Bypassed the books propped upright
with a bonsai. She was fond of them and the little tree. The baccarat paperweight
would do.