Heat of the Night (11 page)

Lyssa inhaled sharply, her gaze darting to the body in the car. Then she nodded. "Yeah."

"Are
we
okay?" he asked grimly.

She frowned, staring at him. Then her face cleared. "Yes. We're okay. I know you did this for me. For us. It was either you or her, right?"

"Right." He wanted to touch her, to stroke her cheek, and to pull her close enough to breathe in the scent of her skin. But he felt dirty, and he didn't want to put his hands on her until he was clean.

"Well, she's not the one I'm in love with, so you made the right choice."

He heaved out a relieved little laugh, the tension draining from his body. "She had the
taza
, too, which is really fucking convenient since we're not going to make it down to Ensenada."

As she regained her composure, her chin lifted and her shoulders went back. "Should I get out the supplies?"

They'd been cautious and brought along a medical bag of emergency items. Their life together was a dangerous one and neither of them ever forgot that.

"Not here," he said. His injury recovery time was rapid compared to humans, but he'd discovered that a stitch here and there could cut several hours of healing down to one or two. "Let's head back toward the border. We'll stop somewhere private."

There was an Army-issue shovel in the trunk, part of a kit he'd picked up at the local military surplus store. He knew Lyssa was thinking of it, too.

"What about the statue for McDougal?"

"I'll tell him I was mugged and got injured, which cut our trip short."

Lyssa raised a brow. "You, big guy?"

Aidan shrugged. "He can't prove me wrong."

"Alright." She stepped back and opened the front passenger door for him. "Let's hurry."

Losing the battle to keep his distance, he pressed a kiss to her cheek before he gingerly attempted to get in the car.

"I love you," she said.

"Thank you." His gaze met hers. "I needed to hear that."

She blew him a kiss. "I know."

Within minutes, they were on the road heading north.

Stacey watched Connor spoon more Kung Pao chicken onto his plate. There were several mostly empty boxes of Chinese food scattered all across the coffee table. She set her chopsticks down and picked up a cream cheese wonton. "I have never seen anyone eat so much food in one sitting in my life," she said wryly.

He grinned that broad boyish smile that made her stomach flutter. "You're a pretty good eater, too," he said. "I dig it."

"My hips don't."

"Your hips don't know what's good for them."

"Ha."

Connor sent her a mock glare and expertly wielded chopsticks to convey a piece of chicken to his mouth. Her gaze dropped to his bared stomach and she admired the sheer masculine beauty of his six-pack abdomen. Even after eating enough food to feed her and Justin for a week, he still looked taut, lean, and hard.

Gorgeous.

She was still having trouble processing the fact that they'd had sex, although her body still tingled from the aftereffects. They were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor watching
The Mummy
, one of her favorite movies. She was a sucker for a blow 'em up action flick with a hot hero and a touch of romance. Connor said he liked it, too, but he spent more time watching her than he did the television. She'd have thought his interest would wane after the sex, at least a little. Instead he seemed more interested than before. She had to admit, she was intrigued by him, too.

"So why are you here?" she asked, setting her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm.

"I have some information for Aidan."

"You couldn't call?"

He shook his head with a smile. "I tried that. He doesn't remember a damn thing I tell him."

"How like a man," she teased.

"Watch it, sweetheart."

Stacey liked it when he called her that. There was something in the rich brogue that lent sincerity to the common endearment. "Are you ex-Special Forces like Aidan?"

"Yeah." There was a melancholy tinge to his response.

"You sound as if you miss it."

"I do." He reached over and snatched the half-eaten wonton from her plate and popped it into his mouth.

"Hey!" she protested, frowning. "There are fresh ones in the box."

"They don't taste as good."

Her eyes narrowed and he stuck a playful tongue out at her. On the screen, Rick O'Connell was battling against a mob of people with the plague. She watched the scene for a moment, then asked Connor, "So what do you do now that you're out of the army or wherever?"

"Same thing as Cross."

She'd tried to get Aidan to name an actual branch of the military and country affiliation, but he was tight-lipped. Lyssa said it was super-secret covert stuff.

So, what
? Stacey had said.
If he tells me, he'll have to kill me
?

Lyssa laughed.
Of course not. 'Cuz seriously
, Stacey muttered,
the curiosity
is
killing me, Doc. He might as well tell me. That would be a kinder way to go
.

Of course, Aidan elected not to put her out of her misery. She knew Connor would be the same. He had a similar air of wariness about him, as if he was dreading the questions he knew were coming.

"You know," she said, "in romance novels the Special Forces heroes usually become high-tech security experts when they retire. Not… researchers… or personal shoppers."

Connor wiped his hands on a napkin and leaned back, supporting his weight on his arms behind him. He wore only loose-fitting striped pajama bottoms, leaving his torso bared to her perusal. His body was a finely honed machine, able to hold up her weight as if it were nothing. The impressive breadth of his shoulders rippled with muscle and his biceps…

Her mouth watered. Dear god, he was savagely beautiful. There was nothing tempered about him. Nothing refined. Even at rest, as he was now, she sensed an alertness to him, an inner coiling of power that left him always ready to pounce.

"You're staring," he purred, his blue eyes watching her with predatory intensity. She knew if she gave him even the tiniest bit of encouragement, he would have her on her back in a minute or less.

The image made her shiver.

"I know," she said, mimicking his earlier statement.

The corner of his shamelessly luscious mouth lifted in a half smile. "So… are you telling me that I'm not romance hero material because I don't install security systems?"

He was romance hero material, all right. At least on the outside. And in bed.

"I didn't say that." Stacey shrugged lamely and dragged her gaze back to the television. It was torture to look away from all that golden skin, but it was self-preservation, too. "I'm just saying that I wouldn't expect guys such as you and Aidan to be interested in hunting down old stuff for old guys with too much money. I'd think you would be bored after all the… excitement of what you used to do."

"The Black Market isn't without danger," he said softly.

"Anytime different people want the same thing, it can get ugly. If they want it bad enough, it can get deadly."

She glanced at him. "Doesn't sound like a dream job."

Connor's lips pursed a moment, then he said, "In my family, we all join the military. It's a given."

"Really?"

His shoulders lifted in a small shrug, which did wonderful things to his pectorals. "Really."

"So you never had something else you wanted to do?"

"I never considered anything else."

"That's sad, Connor."

The sound of his name spoken in her voice shocked them both. Stacey could tell it affected him, because he blinked rapidly and looked a little confused. For her part, she knew that the way she was thinking about him was far from friendly. It was obscene. She wanted to lick and nibble on all his yummy looking skin. His dark honey-hued hair was a little too long, curling over his nape and around the tops of his ears. She wanted to touch it. Run her fingers through it.

"What's your dream?" he asked, his intimate tone drawing her deeper under his spell. He gestured with his chin toward the dining table where her ridiculously expensive textbooks sat ignored. "Are you working toward it now?"

She almost said "yes" as part of her positive thinking overhaul she was working on. Instead, she revealed something she'd never even told Lyssa. "I wanted to be a writer," she confessed.

Twin brows raised in visible surprise. "A writer? What kind of writer?"

Stacey felt her face heat. "A romance writer."

"
Really
?" Now it was his turn to sound shocked. He did it really well, too.

"Yep."

"What happened?"

"Life happened."

"Huh…" He straightened, then startled her by stilling her fingers, which were restlessly spinning a fortune cookie around. The feel of his touch was warm and comforting. His hand was so large; it dwarfed hers. The man was at least twice her size, and yet he could be so gentle. "That's the last thing I would have guessed you would say."

"I know."

"You're so practical."

"I wish."

"Did you give up your dream?"

She stared at their physical connection, his skin so much darker than hers, the knuckles dusted with barely discernable golden strands of hair. "Sure. It was silly anyway."

Connor couldn't think of what to say to Stacey's dismissal of something that was obviously important to her. He wasn't a Nurturer or a Healer, and he wasn't a man who spent time talking to women. At least not words that weren't for the purposes of seduction. When women came to him, it wasn't conversation they wanted. The best he could manage in the way of comfort was to stroke the center of Stacey's soft palm with his callused thumb.

The chaste contact aroused him. When he brushed lower, across the pulse point in her wrist, the rapid beat of her heart betrayed how it aroused her, too. Neither of them acted upon the attraction, despite their quickening breaths. He was content to simply enjoy the soft thrumming of desire in his blood. Then the phone rang and broke the moment.

She blinked, as if waking, then pushed to her feet. "Aidan called earlier when you were sleeping. It's probably him again."

Connor rose as well and followed her into the kitchen. Stacey picked up the handset, revealing the caller ID.
Best Western Big Bear
. The tension that gripped Stacey's small frame was palpable.

She hit the "talk" button and lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hi, baby."

He placed his hands on her slight shoulders and began to knead gently, fighting the tightening that threatened to knot the muscles.

"But you have school," she began, which resulted in a long barrage of argument from the other end of the line. "Yes, I know it's been a long time…" Her chest expanded and collapsed on a silent sigh. "Fine. You can come home Monday night."

The excitement elicited by Stacey's capitulation was audible through the receiver.

"Okay." She tried valiantly to sound cheerful. "I'm glad you're having a great time… I love you, too. Keep warm. Wear that scarf Lyssa bought you for Christmas." She managed a weak laugh. "Yeah, who knew you'd actually use the damn thing? Of course… Don't worry about me; I'm watching
The Mummy
… At least a hundred times, yes. So what? It's a good flick! Okay… Goodnight… Love you."

She hung up and the arm holding the handset fell to her side in a defeatist gesture.

"Hey," Connor murmured, caressing the length of her arm until he reached the phone. He tugged it from nerveless fingers and set it on the breakfast bar. "It's okay. He'll be back soon."

"That's just it," she said, turning to face him only because he caught her shoulders and forced her to. "I don't know if he will come back, or if he'll stay with me when he does."

He stared down at her unhappy face with its pink-tipped nose and turned down mouth. Cupping her cheek, he brushed his thumb across her cheekbone.

"He's fourteen years old," she said mournfully. "He wants a dad, a man he can emulate and learn from. Tommy lives in Hollywood, where it's glamorous and there's something going on every minute. Justin hates it here in the Valley. He says it's boring, and for kids his age, I know it is. I moved to Murrieta because it was cheap at the time—I could buy a house and save on my taxes—and because it's quiet. There isn't much around here that can lure a teenage boy into trouble."

"See?" he said. "A practical woman, just as I said."

A brave woman. A strong woman. A woman he admired.

She faked a smile and it hit him like a punch to the gut. He hated the façade for his benefit. He wanted her all, the real deal. Connor Bruce, best known as "the guy with whom you don't get emotional," wanted Stacey's emotions.

"If Tommy decides he wants to try being a father full-time," she continued tearfully, "Justin will go. Tommy is as much a kid as Justin; they'd have a blast together."

Her head fell forward, hiding her features in a mass of dark curls. "Tommy would probably sue me for child support, too, which would make his life easier. And even if he didn't, I would still send them money. God only knows how they would eat otherwise. One meal a day on the set? if Tommy's lucky enough to be working for once!"

A soft sob rent the air and Connor did the only thing he could do; he caught her chin in his fingers and lifted her mouth to fit his kiss. It was a gentle offer of comfort, just lips, no tongue. He took nothing from her and offered consolation the only way he knew how. "You're getting ahead of yourself, sweetheart," he murmured, nuzzling her nose with his.

"I'm sorry." Stacey kissed him back, tiny kisses. Sweet kisses. "I'm a basket case today. Hormones or something. I swear I am not normally like this."

"It's okay."

Surprisingly, it was.

Stepping back slightly, Connor bent and caught her up behind the knees and lifted her into his arms. He carried her out of the dining room and back into the living room, where he sank into the down-filled couch with her in his lap. She fit perfectly there, her lush body settling warmly against his bare skin. He tucked her head under his chin and rocked her.