Identity Crisis (16 page)

His phone rang next to his shirt on the ground. Talk about crappy timing. Too bad he couldn’t turn off
his
phone. He answered the phone, stepping away. “Hey, Gwen.” Five minutes later, he’d calmed Gwen down, but he was fuming. He marched back over to Olivia.

Olivia wore a concerned expression. “Is Gwen okay?”

“Her husband’s pissed I practically gave their son my old Mustang.” His grip tightened around his phone and he wanted to whip it out in the lake.

“That was nice of you, giving him your car.”

“The only time the guy gives a shit about being a father is when somebody else shows interest in his son. I’m going to tell him either he helps the kid with the car or I will. I’m not having Josh turn out like his father, or worse yet, my father. Screw crossing the line.” Hell, he’d just crossed it by discussing a witness with Olivia. But it bode well for him that a witness trusted and relied on him.

“The kid’s lucky he has you.”

“I was lucky I had my aunt and uncle to take me in. Who knows what would have happened to me if I’d gone into the foster program. And I’m lucky they didn’t give me away. I wasn’t the easiest kid. Pretty screwed up.”

“Of course they wouldn’t have given you up. They loved you.”

He shrugged it off. “I hope Josh is okay.”

“I never realized what all your job description entails. You do a lot more than protect witnesses.”

“I have a lifelong commitment to witnesses. On call twenty-four seven.”

“Is that why you’re not married? Hard to commit to a woman when you’re already committed to dozens of other people?”

“Something like that. And women aren’t real understanding when I’m running over to witnesses’ houses at all hours of the night. Or when I’m MIA for weeks guarding one. If I was even able to tell them what I was doing, it might help.” In other words, don’t get involved with him. Whatever was happening between them had no future. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want it to happen.

“Does your aunt Maggie know what you do?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never told my aunt, a girlfriend, nobody. I can’t or lives are put in jeopardy.” He slipped his phone back in its holder. “I’m sorry, what were you saying about Bella before Gwen called?”

She shook her head absently. “Nothing.”

“Hey, you know I’m a pretty good listener. I’m a bodyguard, family counselor, beauty consultant — ”

“Beauty consultant?” She arched an intrigued brow.

“Have helped a few women decide on cosmetic procedures.”

“To alter their looks?”

“Mainly to Botox away the wrinkles and their depression over leaving behind their old lives. And a few lip and breast augmentations here and there.”

“Gee, tough job helping women pick out new breasts.”

“Not like I see the actual finished product. I’d never even kissed someone under my protection, until you.”

He wasn’t sure if she looked surprised because he’d brought up their kiss, or that he didn’t regularly sleep with damsels in distress. He wanted her to know she’d been the first.

Roger walked up, wiping the sweat from his forehead, his breathing labored. Ethan had been trying to get the man to take a break before he had heatstroke. Roger gestured a paintbrush toward the rebuilt Eiffel Tower. “You’re quite the handyman.” He gave Ethan a pat on the back and a sense of pride welled up in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Uncle Sal until now. “All it needs is a fresh coat of paint.”

“I’ll paint it,” Olivia said. “Just let me change.”

“Gonna have to give you two a discount on your stay,” Roger said.

Roger wiped the sweat from his face again.

Olivia eyed him with concern.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Ethan said. “I could use some shade and a cold drink.” He wiped his brow for emphasis.

Olivia flashed him an appreciative smile.

“Something cold? You read my mind.” Kate walked up holding a tray of glasses filled with iced tea.

“I was thinking maybe a beer,” Roger said.

“The doctor told you to cut back on beer.” She handed Roger a tea. “Which reminds me. Blanche just called to report that a man had a heart attack out on Sunset Lake. Rescue boat went looking for him after the storm.”

Roger heaved a relieved sigh and a grin replaced the distressed look that had plagued his face since seeing the rescue boat earlier. Over some man having a heart attack? Ethan seemed to be the only one who noticed his rather calloused reaction.

“Thankfully he’s all right,” Kate added.

Ethan glanced across the vast expanse of connecting lakes.

What was Roger’s obsession with Sunset Lake?

Kate and Roger headed inside to cool down.

“Thanks for helping out with the golf course,” Olivia said.

“I enjoy it. I used to help my uncle around the house. He died when I was nineteen. I continued helping my aunt with repairs. Put on a new deck six years ago. That was before I got my current job. Been promising to stop by and fix her porch steps. I have to do that before she hurts herself. I haven’t been the best nephew lately.” Putting witnesses’ needs before his aunt’s. “I should take better care of the house I grew up in.”

“It’ll be your house someday. Then you’ll have a home. And your aunt probably already has a cookie jar.”

He nodded. “She does, and she makes the best chocolate chip cookies.”

“I make killer chocolate chip cookies.” She smiled and headed toward the cottage to change clothes.

Was she offering to make him cookies?

Did he want her to make him cookies?

“What a day, Dad,” Olivia whispered, lying in bed staring at her dad’s urn on top of the dresser. Late afternoon, Tracy and Jack had joined in working on the golf course. For dinner, Kate had grilled burgers and beer brats — providing Roger with at least a taste of the beverage his doctor had denied him. By ten
P.M.
they’d had over half the course up and running. A few more days and the course would be good as new.

Thanks largely to Ethan. Helping rebuild the course went above and beyond his job description of protecting her. She could tell he liked Roger and Kate. He fit in well with her family and had made it easier for her to fit in, too.

She gazed in the direction of the living room, wondering if he’d fallen asleep. She slipped her hand under the mattress, ensuring the provenances from Kate’s box were still there. As if they’d gone missing since she’d checked fifteen minutes ago.

She wiped the perspiration from her upper lip. Zero breeze floated through the slightly cracked windows. Needing a cold glass of water, she slid out of bed. The heat had forced her to strip down to a white cotton camisole and thong, so she slipped on the oversized shirt she’d slept in the night before, not bothering to button it.

Their kiss last night had left her wanting more. Ethan wanted more also. She could tell by the way he touched her, and the way his eyes softened ever so slightly whenever he looked at her. And he’d made a point of telling her she was the first woman under his protection who he’d ever kissed. He’d also pointed out that women didn’t react well to him disappearing for weeks at a time or his dedication to his job. She wouldn’t either, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take advantage of having his undivided attention now.

She padded out into the moonlit living room, the floorboards creaking faintly beneath her step. She could make out the silhouette of Ethan’s body lying on the couch and assumed he was asleep when he didn’t acknowledge her. She crept closer until she was standing over him. The urge to touch the scar on his cheek, to feel the warmth of his skin, prompted her to reach out, her hand stopping just shy of his cheek.

Ethan’s eyes shot open, and he grasped hold of her arm as he surged from the couch, gun in hand, all in one swift motion.

Olivia gasped, her heart racing.

“Christ,” he said, realizing it was her, lowering his gun. Their bodies almost flush against each other, her labored breathing caused her breasts to swell, pressing against his chest. His gaze swept down over her breasts and his intense look slowly evaporated into a steamy gaze. He curled his fingers into her arm, gently kneading it, as if itching to draw her even closer. Instead, he slowly released her arm, stepping back. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have hurt you.”

She glanced down at his gun. “So you do sleep with that thing in your hand.”

“In the cushion.”

“Thought maybe you couldn’t sleep either and wanted to thank you again for helping Kate and Roger with the golf course.”

“They’re good people. I like helping them … and you.”

Unsure how to respond, she peered at his broad, rock solid chest with a small scar on the left side.

“What happened there?” She brushed a finger over the bumpy, raised area.

“Bullet.” He eyed her finger, as if debating whether to remove it from his skin, but didn’t. “You should get some sleep.”

The last thing she felt like doing was lying in bed talking to her dad’s urn, desperate for conversation. She removed her finger from the scar and grasped hold of his hand. She slipped his hand inside the front of her shirt, skimming the tops of her breasts as she swept his hand up to her shoulder. She guided his hand over the scars on her upper arm.

“I think I got these from a car accident my mom and I were in. Found out today she died in the wreck, not from cancer like my dad claimed.” She eyed him curiously. “Did you already know this?”

He shook his head. “His file was pretty sketchy.”

When she stopped brushing his hand over her arm, he continued gently caressing it and she willed his hand lower, aching to feel it against her breasts.

“So is this what had you so upset earlier?”

She nodded. “We were run off the road by the mob. My dad as good as killed her.”

Ethan’s hand stopped massaging her arm, yet rested gently on her shoulder. His gaze sharpened. “He didn’t pull the trigger. My father killed my mother with his bare hands. I saw the sheer evil in his eyes. I saw him pass out afterward and not give a damn.” The frustration in his voice and guilt on his face looked fresh, like the murder had just happened yesterday.

“You couldn’t have stopped him. You were only ten. You’re lucky you made it out of there alive.” She gazed deep into his eyes, her chest fluttering over the fact he’d just opened up to her about his dad. She brushed a gentle finger over the scar on his cheekbone and trailed her finger over to his mouth and traced it over his top lip, then the lower. The tip of his tongue teased her finger, and she let out a faint moan.

Ethan slipped his other hand beneath her open shirt and skimmed it over her breast to her shoulder. He slid his hands down her arms, taking the shirt with them, leaving goose bumps in the wake. The shirt dropped to the floor and she stood there in her thong and camisole. He brushed his hands down over the curves of her breasts to the sides of her waist, then slipped them around to rest on the small of her back. She fanned her hands across his chest, through the v of dark hair, flexing her fingertips.

He drew her against his body, her soft breasts against the hard plane of his chest. He lowered his head, capturing her lips with his, slipping his tongue into the warm recesses of her mouth, gently stroking her tongue. He was rugged and strong, yet capable of soft caresses and passion.

Their kiss deepened. She splayed her hands across his chest, directing him down on the couch in a sitting position. She straddled him, tucking her feet beneath her legs. He curled his fingers around the bottom of her camisole and she raised her arms, enabling him to peel it off. He kissed the ring resting between her breasts, then his mouth seized a breast. She dropped her head back, a barely audible moan escaping up her throat. Her breathing, already shallow and rapid, quickened to the point of hyperventilating, and she feared she’d orgasm before Ethan was even inside her. And she wanted him inside her more than she’d ever wanted any man.

• • •

Ethan drew his head back slightly, gazing into Olivia’s eyes, which peered at him through slitted lids. His heart pounded against his chest, his breathing becoming heavier. An intense look of longing filled her green eyes. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. But he wanted more than to just make love to her. Not only had he connected with her on physical level, but an emotional one. These unfamiliar feelings scared the shit out of him, yet he had to have her.

A noise sounded outside the partially open window.

Ethan’s body tensed. His gaze darted to a figure silhouetted against the curtain. He eased Olivia off him, pushing her down on the couch, motioning for her to stay put. Heart racing, he snagged his gun off the table. The window rattled then slid up, triggering the alarm. Ethan flew out the door, gun drawn. Rather than a crazed killer with a gun, he encountered a young, skinny guy in a Budweiser T-shirt and jeans standing with his hands over his ears. He didn’t look capable of bombing a café — instead, he was bombed. He reeked of serious booze.

“Make that stop,” the guy hollered over the alarm.

Ethan turned off the alarm, yet the guy’s hands remained over his ears. Suddenly noticing the gun pointed at him, his hands shot up in the air, causing him to lose his balance and stumble backwards onto his ass.

Olivia peeked out the screen door, her white shirt back on.

“What were you doing?” Ethan demanded, lowering his gun.

“Thought this was my cabin. Steph called all pissed off, telling me she’d locked me out, so figured I had to crawl in through the window.”

Ethan had literally almost been caught with his pants down. If this had been the bomber rather than some drunk, they both might be history. What had he been thinking? If anything happened to Olivia, he wouldn’t have to worry about his reputation and being canned, he’d quit. He couldn’t live with himself.

People cautiously poked their heads out of their cottages to check things out. Roger came running up with a rifle in his hand, dressed in a white T-shirt and boxers.

“What the Sam hell’s going on?” Roger glanced from the guy on the ground to the gun in Ethan’s hand. Ethan had mentioned he was in law enforcement so Roger couldn’t be shocked about the gun.