Icing on the Cake (Close to Home) (18 page)

Well, she could fix that easily enough. “Forget I asked. Whatever top-secret shindig you’re off to, enjoy. I’ve got my apartment situation figured out, so I’ll be out of your way by the time you get back.”

He didn’t smile or snort, didn’t give her one of his raised-eyebrows looks that said
like hell you will
. His gaze stayed fixed on her though, the wheels clearly turning behind eyes that matched his suit. Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t share it. No reason he should. They weren’t a couple. She couldn’t really classify them as friends either. But they were definitely
something
, and that didn’t bode well for self-preservation.

Time to make tracks. Put Curtis and his condo in her rearview mirror. The sooner, the better.

She pulled his shirt closed and cut around him on her way to the bathroom. The long arm of the lawman reached out and snagged her with ease. He didn’t haul her in tight for a sexy—or sweet—moment. The gesture was meant to stop her only.

“Stay here tonight.”

“I don’t need to. I’m getting the lock changed and door cleaned up today.” She braced for him to erupt. Lecture her about safety, point out that the guys who’d left the message hadn’t been dealt with.

The alpha cop side of him didn’t materialize. It seemed as if he hadn’t even registered her words.

He stepped into her space, caught a lock of hair and let it slide through his fingers as his eyes swept over her face. “The thing I’m headed to shortly…it’s not for work or fun. I know you have a late shift tonight, but I’d like it if you came here afterward.”

She’d seen him in many modes, including serious, but never this way. Heavyhearted. Burdened, almost. Her stomach twisted and groaned, neither having anything to do with hunger.

“What’s the thing?” She spoke the words slowly to delay the answer she feared hearing.

“Funeral.”

She swallowed. Nodded. “You didn’t mention it last night.”

“I know.”

“Because you thought I couldn’t handle it.”

He shook his head. “I know you can handle anything. That doesn’t mean you should have to.”

Damn him for being considerate and sensitive. For being so fucking sweet and good when all she’d wanted him to be was good in bed.

“I’ll spend the night,” she whispered.

He cupped her nape and leaned in for a kiss. One that said thank-you. One that chipped another hole in her dwindling resistance to the wonder that was Curtis Lawler.

*

“Hey,” Sara said when Nia answered her call. “Have time for a coffee this afternoon?”

“Um…actually, no. We’re just on our way out the door.”

“We? Conn’s home in the middle of the day? You guys just got back from two weeks on honeymoon. Must be nice to get so much vacation time.” Silence consumed the airtime between them. A pause so long she had to say, “Are you still there?”

“Yes, just a sec.”

In the background, Sara heard vehicle doors closing and Conn speaking to Nia. Though it was obvious Nia had covered her cell phone with her hand, a couple key words were clear enough for Sara to make out.

“You’re going to a funeral.”

“Shit, sorry,” Nia said softly. “I didn’t think you could hear any of that.”

“Am I that much of a headcase that nobody can mention a funeral to me? I know better than anybody that people fucking die.”

“I know you do.”

Sara pressed the end of her cell against her temple to stop the pulsing. If anything, it just throbbed harder. “Who was it?” she whispered.

“Brent. Conn’s cousin.”

Oh god. Not just Conn’s cousin, but Curtis’ also. And not some random person whose name meant nothing. Sara had met Brent at the wedding a few weeks ago. With his fiancé. Neither guy could have been more than thirty-five, tops. “How?”

“Don’t do this to yourself, you don’t need to know.”

That’s probably how Curtis felt too. Why he’d sheltered her from the information. He’d hidden his grief to protect her feelings.

She pinched her eyes closed and exhaled quietly. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“Oh, Sara.” Nia sighed on the other end of the line. “It was a brain aneurism. He and Sean were bowling on their league night. Brent said he needed to sit down because his head hurt. By the time Sean joined him at the table, Brent was…”

“Gone.”

“Yes. It was quick, at least.”

As opposed to the terror of dying while your house burned down around you, not knowing if your child had gotten out safely. She groaned and hung her head between her knees to ward off the nausea.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have told you.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. So, were they close—Brent and Conn…and Curtis?”

“Very. They grew up in the same neighborhood and practically lived at each other’s houses all the way through high school. Brent and Curtis were the same age.”

So this whole secret-funeral situation could get worse. Great. She straightened and did what needed to be done, which happened to be the impossible. “Give me the details for the service. I want to be there.”

“Oh my god, no. You only met him once at our wedding. Nobody would expect you to go to his funeral.”

“Brent could dish the shit almost as fast as me. I liked that about him. But he’s not the reason I’m going.” Time to rip the top of one of the cans of worms she’d been hiding from her sister-slash-best friend. “I want to be there for Curtis.”

*

Thank god she owned plenty of black. If only she owned a lead-lined stomach.

One foot after another. Breathe in and out. Basic, automatic functions most of the time, but Sara had to make a conscious effort to do them now. Her hands had shaken so much while getting ready, she’d had to give up on applying her usual fake eyelashes and liquid eyeliner. Maybe Curtis wouldn’t even recognize her when she walked in…if she got that far.

Nia had promised not to mention Sara’s decision to attend the funeral. Not even to Conn, hard as that was to believe since those two had no secrets anymore. Sara hadn’t even had to ask. Nia had offered to withhold the information—just in case Sara didn’t make it.

Part of her wanted to give Nia and Curtis a piece of her mind. Tell them to fuck off for thinking she was too weak to support them. That part had run for the hills the moment she got within spitting distance of the chapel doors.

She had one last chance to change her mind. Once she went inside, she’d have to hold it together, regardless. If she couldn’t do that, she needed to turn around and leave.

She grabbed the handle. Pulled. Held on to it with a white-knuckled fist so she didn’t buckle when the coffin, on display at the front of the chapel, entered her view. A few heads turned briefly before returning to the business of waiting and grieving. Many of the assembled group had probably been at Nia and Conn’s wedding. They may even have been dressed similarly. But the mood in this chapel couldn’t have been further from that day.

The service hadn’t started. She could still go back through the doors. And she was tempted. Until she spotted the backs of several familiar heads, and one in particular turned her way.

She hadn’t been sure Curtis would want her here. They were casual, and fairly new at that. This might be way too personal a gesture.

His eyebrows rose at the sight of her. Then
he
rose, excusing himself along the row as he squeezed past Nia and Conn, Lindsay, his parents and a couple of people Sara didn’t recognize. Throughout the shuffle, his eyes remained locked with hers. He exited the pew and walked up the center aisle. Too late to back out now. From the funeral or the statement her presence made.

By the time he reached her, the nervous butterflies had whipped up a cyclone in her stomach. Her limbs tingled and her head spun so much, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to move without crumpling. She also had no doubt Curtis would catch her if she fell. He seemed to have a knack for that.

“Hey,” he said, positioning himself such that she could no longer see the coffin. Coincidence? Unlikely. “What’re you doing here?”

“Ogling you. Do you have any idea how hot you look in that suit?”

His sexy mouth curved into an irresistible smile. “Thank you.”

She shrugged it off, despite knowing his gratitude had nothing to do with her compliment. She couldn’t do serious right now. It’d break her.

He offered his arm, pulling it tight to his side once hers slipped beneath. “We can sit in the back row if you want.”

“You ashamed of me, lawman?”

“Yeah.” His free hand came across to flick the sleeve of her blouse. “You’re hiding too much of your sexy body in these mom-approved clothes.”

“Dude, this is a funeral.” She waited until they’d squeezed into place on the pew with his family, then leaned close so she could whisper in his ear. “But I promise to change for the private after-party at your place.”

“Just your clothes, princess.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Don’t change anything else.”

*

“Can I do anything for you?” Sara’s quiet voice broke the silence Curtis had assumed was postsex sleep on her side of the bed.

Now that he knew she was awake, he pulled her closer. As in half-on-top-of-him closer. “You already did,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Reverse-cowgirl anal for the win.”

A laugh rumbled up from his gut, almost bouncing her off his chest. “Not what I meant, but yeah, that was definitely ten out of ten.”

“Is that all? I’ll have to improve my technique next time.”

Next time.
He liked the sound of that, and not just for the amazing sex.

More than ever, she fascinated him. He’d avoided any mention of Brent’s death or the impending funeral during dinner conversation last night. Not the kind of stuff that made for good date talk with any woman, and especially not with Sara, given her past.

But she’d shown up at the chapel. On her own, and not to support her sister or Conn. Throughout the emotional service, the burial and the reception afterward, she’d stayed by Curtis’ side. Been there
for him
, even when her hands shook, her lips quivered and her eyes had welled with tears. He’d known she was independent, spirited and stubborn, but he hadn’t given her enough credit for being strong.

And he hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to lean on somebody until she’d been there, ready to bear the burden. “I thought of something else you can do for me.”

She shifted position to look up at him. “Do tell, lawman.”

He trailed his fingers down her spine and cupped her ass tightly so she couldn’t get away. “Don’t run back to that shitty apartment tomorrow. Until you figure out something better, stay here.”

Her face could’ve been a billboard. Even in the semi-darkness, he saw the rapid blinking, the way her eyes darted around and her lips parted and closed. Yet another battle in Sara’s private war of emotions.

“I promise to put the toilet seat down and pretend I don’t notice when you fart.”

Her chin dug into his pecs as she laughed. “Wow. With an offer like that, how can I refuse?”

“You can’t.” He rolled them, his hard-again cock wedged between them as he sealed the deal with a kiss.

Curtis stole from the bed, careful not to jostle the woman who’d shared it for over two weeks. Though she’d never admit in her waking hours, Sara was a cuddler while asleep. Big time.

Despite sleeping alone his entire life minus the odd night here and there, he didn’t mind the sleepy affection. Kinda liked it, actually. Quite the contrast to daytime Sara, who spent hours scouring the classifieds, muttering under her breath about everything from the lack of job opportunities and cheap rentals to being trapped here by an overbearing cop. The newspaper didn’t bring out the best in her, that was for damn sure.

As for other conversation, she should have a sign over her head that said, “Proceed at Your Own Risk” or “Your Mileage May Vary.” Sometimes she let her guard down and they really connected. Other times…oh man. When her walls were solidly in place, any topic of an even remotely personal nature sent Sara into smart-mouth mode.

Her finely balanced system of sarcasm and evasive wording put televised political debates to shame. Like the time he’d asked her if she had a favorite kind of flower. She’d given him such a convoluted answer, he’d almost forgotten the original question.

She made him fucking crazy sometimes. And made things interesting all of the time.

He flipped on the bathroom light. His gaze snagged on her toothbrush alongside his in the stand. A slight turn of his head and her shampoo, conditioner and razor on the edge on his tub came into view. Then her damn sexy little robe, hanging on one of his hooks. Not exactly signs of a woman who felt trapped here.

Surprisingly, her stuff taking up space in his place didn’t make him feel crawlier than watching an episode of
Survivor
where the contestants ingested live bugs. He’d never wanted to live with a woman before. Still didn’t—not permanently, anyway. But he was in no hurry for Sara to leave either. She looked good lying on his sofa. Sitting at the breakfast bar in his kitchen. Tied to his bed, arms stretched above her head while he made her come.

Yeah, especially that way.

She’d been beyond stressed out when she got in from work a couple hours ago. Hadn’t wanted to talk about it aside from saying her boss expected too much. But she had been willing to let him distract her. She hadn’t protested when he pampered her with a hot bath. Later, in the middle of some seriously hot making out on the couch, she’d looked into his eyes and said, “I need something from you.”

He’d given her an immediate, “Name it.”

After a beat of hesitation, she’d let the request tumble out in a rush. “I don’t want to think tonight. I don’t want to be me. I’m not asking you to play a game. Just take control. Full control. I trust you, Curtis. Own me. Make me forget all the shit, just for a while.”

And that’s exactly what he’d done. He carried her to his bed and bent her over the edge, ass up. Bound her hands with the black rope he’d bought for her and secured it to one of the corner posts. She’d looked so beautiful that way, naked and semi-helpless. Totally trusting. Needing him.