HeatedMatch (12 page)

“This is all perfectly in order, Mr. White. We’ll be going
now.” The three uniformed men made their way to the doorway before one turned
back to Derrick. “Do your research better before calling about your
girlfriend
.”
All three chuckled and left, obviously thinking Derrick was a poor sap who’d
been cuckolded.

“Thank you for letting them in, Mr. Chin,” Loren said to her
building manager who’d been hovering, watching the whole scene with wide eyes.
“You can probably get back to work now.” She waited until the man left and
she’d shut the door behind him before turning to Adam. “Mr. White? Why did the
police call you that?”

He shrugged then swooped down to retrieve his gun from the
beige carpet. “Up until a week ago, the Program didn’t officially exist. I
couldn’t exactly carry a badge and photo ID. Shep makes sure we all have an
identity card with a license for various concealed weapons.”

“I bet you have passports for a zillion different countries
too.”

He grinned, but it changed to a scowl when he noticed
Derrick staring up at him in fascination. “You can leave too. You’re no longer
needed. Thanks for worrying about Loren.” He used his greater height and bulk
to herd Derrick to the door, but not for nothing was Derrick a Pulitzer
Prize-winning journalist.

“You’re the guy from the video and from Christenson’s party.
You danced with Loren.”

Any emotion on Adam’s face shuttered closed.

“Derrick, don’t go there,” Loren said.

“Lorie, can I talk to you for a second? Alone?” He didn’t
look at Adam.

“No,” Adam said. “You can’t be alone with her.”

“Excuse me?”

She rolled her eyes at Adam’s high-handedness and Derrick’s
affronted expression. He looked like a spoiled toddler told no for the first
time.

Derrick removed his hand from Loren’s shoulder and turned to
face Adam. “Listen, buddy. I don’t know who you think you are, but Loren is
more than a friend to me, if you catch my drift. I don’t appreciate you coming
onto my territory and getting all up in my business.”

Her jaw dropped.
Up in his business? More than a friend
?
Was Derrick hallucinating? She needed to take control of the situation, fast.
“Adam, I do need a minute with Derrick.”

He frowned at her, forbidding her to go off alone. “Anything
you want to say needs to be said in front of me.”

The aggression rolling off Adam was palpable, dangerous. She
shook her head at him and turned to Derrick.

“You’ve been shacked up with him for coming up on
forty-eight hours, and you haven’t got diddly on the kidnapping, have you?”
Derrick frowned at her.

She winced and shook her head. “But there’s stuff you don’t
understand.”

His scowl deepened and he glared at Adam. “I understand. I
understand that you threw professional responsibility to the curb after one
glance from this guy.” He shook his head and started for the door of the
apartment, but stopped in the entry to look at her again. “I’m heading back to
the office. You coming?”

“I can’t. I’ll call Steve and explain. I’m going to need to
take a leave of absence.”

“I don’t get you, Loren.” Derrick shoved his hands in his
pockets. “You’ve been dogging me for months, begging to help and claiming you
want a byline, but the moment the opportunity comes your way, you bail.”

“That’s not fair,” she said, hating that his words held more
truth than she cared to hear. “And I’m working on the kidnapping story. Adam
and his team are investigating, and they’ve agreed to let me assist.” If Adam
was surprised by her declaration, he didn’t reveal it. “Once I have something
concrete, I’ll get it to you.”

Derrick shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. See you around, Loren.”

Loren stared at the empty doorway for a long minute before
turning to Adam.

“You’re going to assist in our investigation, huh?” He
straightened from the wall he’d been holding up with his shoulder and stepped
toward her.

She nodded. “You better believe it. Don’t even think of
trying to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Now go pack. We have a meeting after lunch
about the kidnapping.”

Loren walked into the bedroom and returned a few minutes
later holding a medium duffel and handful of bras. His heart rate, which had
skyrocketed at the sight of Loren in that dipshit, Derrick’s arms, went back to
pounding.

His tongue nearly fell out of his mouth at the glimpse of
cream silk and lace, and he allowed a brief visual of how she’d fill out the
skimpy material. Then he glanced around the apartment and got his head back
where it belonged and out of Loren’s lingerie drawer. She shoved a few more
shirts and pants into the bag. Adam strolled to a bookshelf and examined the
various photos in frames she had displayed.

There was one of Loren in a navy cap and gown. He guessed it
was college from the golden ribbon hanging around her neck. That usually meant
something
cum laude
, right? He wasn’t sure, having never gone to
college. Some kids who grew up in the Program left for college. Sometimes they
returned, sometimes not. But most stayed and signed up to fight at eighteen.
The advanced nature of their genetics combined with the small class size on
campus ensured they had a college-level education by sixteen, anyway. He hadn’t
considered leaving to attend college, though it would’ve been interesting to
live elsewhere for a few years after high school. With a mother and brother to
support, he hadn’t had the same freedom as the rest of his cohort. But no sense
in getting maudlin about what you couldn’t change. That was life.

He leaned down and smiled at a picture of Loren surrounded
by a group of girls, huddled arm in arm. It looked to be from high school. He
scanned the other photos, pleased not to see a single image of Loren alone with
another man. Stupid of him, when he wasn’t planning on taking their connection
anywhere permanent, but he couldn’t fight nature. It didn’t stop the wanting.

“That’s my mom.” Loren walked next to him, close enough that
he could inhale the shampoo she’d used that morning. It was the same shampoo he
used every morning since it was Program standard issue. It smelled better on
her.

He squinted to get a better look at the five-by-seven image
of a woman standing with her hands on a beaming young girl’s shoulders. A tall,
blond man rounded out the happy family portrait. Loren looked to be seven or
eight in the photo. He guessed more based on the color and quality of the photo
than any knowledge of what a seven-year-old girl looked like. “You look like
her.”

Loren nodded. “I resemble her way more than I do my father.
I don’t really resemble him at all.”

“Except in your enhanced abilities.”

She flushed. “Yeah, except that. And I only just learned
about that. My father died when I was ten and my memories of him are getting
hazier.” She picked up the photo and held it closer. “Sure, I remember most of
our conversations, thanks to my excellent memory, but I don’t remember how his
hugs felt or the sound of his laugh.”

He rubbed a hand on her lower back. “There are a lot of
people on campus who were close to your dad. Shep, Keel. They could share stories
with you if you wanted.”

“You didn’t say Chase. He could probably tell me stuff about
our father I don’t know.”

He pulled his hand away and turned to look at her mediocre
view out the window. “I wouldn’t ask Chase. They had a falling-out and weren’t
close at the time of your father’s death.”

She frowned but didn’t comment on her brother. “I’m going to
bring this.” She grabbed a t-shirt from her duffel and wrapped it carefully
around the wood-and-glass framed family portrait.

“Are you packed?”

She cocked her head. “I’m packed. Adam, how did my dad die?”

He barely suppressed a low groan. “Can we talk about this
back on campus?”

She sat on the arm of the couch. He wanted to yank her up to
speed their exit along.

“No, I want to talk about it now. I’m guessing your
reluctance to talk about it means he didn’t die in a roadside bomb like we were
told.”

Adam sighed and stifled his urge to throw her over his
shoulder and dash out the door. “Are you sure you want to know? Sometimes the
past is best left there.”

He sank to the couch when she nodded. “I’m not one hundred
percent sure of the details. Remember, I was only thirteen and not living on
campus yet. But, I heard he was shot and killed, not hit by a roadside bomb.
This information is classified, I trust you won’t tell.”

She sank off the arm of the couch and onto the cushion next
to him. Tears ran down her cheeks as she agreed, promising not to divulge
classified information. Immediately, his body woke up and starting buzzing at
her nearness. He’d managed to suppress his arousal to a dull hum for the last
few hours, but the minute she got in close enough range to scent her, his
nerves went haywire again. The timing sucked. She was mourning her father all
over again and all he wanted to do was push her back, spread her legs and dive
in. He was no better than an animal.

He retreated as far as the sofa arm would let him when her
arms wrapped around his waist. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sad. This is what people do when they need comfort.”
Her voice was muffled from speaking into the cotton of his shirt.

“Loren, I want to comfort you. I do, but when you get this
close, I can’t really control my reaction.”

“Huh?” She lifted her face to his. Tears made the whites of
her eyes shiny and her nose was a little pink at the tip.

“You’re too close,” he repeated. “And I want you again.”

She pushed away slightly and glanced down at his lap, which
now sported an impressive erection. He tried not to notice the hard beads of
her nipples, but their genetic compatibility made it impossible to miss. He was
attuned to her body almost as closely as his own.

“Oh.” She stared at his lap a moment longer and his cock
twitched under her gaze. His head fell back against the couch.

“Shit. Don’t mind me. I can handle it.” He started to rise
off the couch, but his eyes widened when Loren pressed her body to his, pushing
his back to the couch cushion.

“Just hold me,” she whispered.

He remained silent since he was incapable of speech as her
soft hands reached up to tangle in his hair. Her cheek rested on his shoulder
and her lips pressed into the side of his neck. His arms wrapped tightly around
her and his palms cupped her bottom, holding her tightly against him. A
reverent silence blanketed the room as their breathing slowed and their
heartbeats found a simultaneous rhythm. He wanted her. He wanted to be
in
her, but for now holding her and offering her comfort was more than enough.

It was as if her body had been created to fit against his,
and given the science of the situation, maybe it had been. It certainly felt
that way.

* * * * *

Back on campus two hours later, she and Adam bypassed her
earlier temporary housing and headed farther down the gravel path toward a
cluster of single-story houses. Tricycles and other colorful plastic toys
dotted the small porches, so she guessed families with young children lived
here.

Adam hopped onto the porch of a house at the end of the row
and turned the doorknob. She followed him in and blinked as he flicked on a
harsh overhead fluorescent light bulb. Dingy beige paint covered the walls,
dotted by holes and lighter square patches where pictures once hung. Mahogany
parquet tiles graced the floor with a few darkened water stains. A kitchen
stood facing what Loren guessed was a living room and dining room. It was clear
no one had lived here for a while, but once upon a time, someone had. Someone
had cared enough to hang paintings and turn this military compound into a home.

She explored further. The door on her right revealed a
bedroom. The next door off the living room was a tiny bathroom with stall
shower.

“You’ll live here while on campus. I’ll go find some clean
sheets for the bed.” He turned and entered the first bedroom.

She watched the empty doorway for a moment then went to the
couch and sank down. It had been a roller coaster of a week, starting with the
Christenson kidnapping and now here she was in the middle of a strange military
base with a man her body wanted beyond all reason.

The man in question appeared in the doorway looking somber.
“Bed’s made.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m heading up to the main office for a strategy meeting.
You coming?”

She stood, thrilled to have been asked without having to beg
to participate. “Just like that? You’re letting me in the secret circle.”

“You were at the party. Maybe you saw something I missed.
I’m not so hardheaded as to ignore an opportunity.”

She followed him out the door and into the sunshine. “That’s
right. You’re Mr. Strategy.”

“When it comes to some things.” He shrugged.

She guessed he referred to military-type things. Because he
was missing any strategy gene when it came to relationships with the opposite
sex. He had her cold then hot, and back again.

“So, um, we haven’t really talked about us since last
night.”

He looked over at her and raised a brow. “I’m doing my best
not to touch you. I’m not the man you need in your life.” His face was set,
determined.

An unexpected rush of anger filled her. “I never said you
were.”

“Fine, I’m not. Feel better?”

“Feel better?” She rose onto her tiptoes and leaned toward
him. “Hell no, that doesn’t make me feel better. You’re driving me crazy,
Adam.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off at the pass. “I’m
getting whiplash from trying to figure out where this is going. Your boss wants
us to be a done deal and make babies. You obviously don’t want to, and that’s
fine. I’m not exactly ready for parenthood either. Why can’t this just be about
sex? Why are you focused on the end game?”