Lost in Her (12 page)

From the first, when Charlie’s mother and Ashley’s father had decided their relationship was serious enough to introduce their daughters to each other, Ashley had made it clear she found Charlie lacking and had reveled in screwing with Charlie’s mind. Sometimes it had been to steal a page of homework, always from the middle so Charlie wouldn’t notice; other times, she would invite Charlie places, then leave without her.

The worst was the day she had asked if Charlie wanted to have lunch with her and her friends. When a smiling Charlie brought her tray to their table and took a seat, every girl picked up their lunches and walked away. Kids at the nearby tables snickered, and dying of embarrassment, she had forced herself to stay seated and eat her food while wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. Yes, Ashley was her prime suspect, but if it was her stepsister, she had to have help.

Once Ryan opened her door, he put an arm out, blocking her way. “Let me go in first. You stay right behind me.” With his gun still down at his side, he stepped inside and stilled.

Not expecting him to stop, Charlie ended up with her nose pressed against his spine. Sheesh, the man smelled yummy. Not only that, but his back was washboard hard. She had the urge to slip her hands under his shirt and run them over all those taut muscles. Giving in to the need to touch him, she put her hands on his waist, right above his jeans. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him and she’d bet her small savings account that naked, he’d look just like those hot guy pictures women posted on Facebook, the ones where the guy had the V-line that women called sex lines.

His hand settled over one of hers. “Cherub, I’ll take a definite rain check on your exploring my body, but now’s not the time. Pay attention.”

Embarrassed, she snatched her hands away.

He chuckled. “You can put your hands back on my waist if you want,
A mhuirnín.
”

Whenever he called her that, she felt as if she’d stepped into a romance novel where there was always a happy ending. It wasn’t going to happen, and she’d best not forget that. Still, she put her hands back over his shirt, very much liking them there.

“Is that your bathroom?” He lifted his chin toward the only closed door in her efficiency apartment.

“Yes.”

He stood off to the side when he opened the door, and brought up his gun with the familiarity of one who was accustomed to using a weapon. An alpha warrior type had never been on her hot guy radar screen before, but this one might change her mind about what it took to be on her hot guy list.

He turned and gave her a look that brooked no argument. “Pack whatever you need for the next few days. You’re coming with me.”

“I’m fine staying here.”

His eyes glittered with a hardness she’d never seen in them before. “No. You’re not. Are you going to pack a go bag or should I?”

Huh? “What’s a go bag?”

After swiping his hand over his face, clearly signaling his exasperation with her, he sighed. “Sorry if I’m going all macho on you, but you can’t stay here. Not if whoever’s painting witches’ symbols on your plane obviously knows where you live. Pack enough stuff for a few days, okay?” He put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face so that she had no choice but to look at him. “Please.”

The man wore macho well, but it was the soft please that had her giving in. He was right, though, whoever the creep was knew where she lived. Besides, Ryan had a gun and she didn’t. “I guess a motel’s better than staying here.”

“No motel. You’re coming home with me.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

R
yan toed Mr. Bunny out of the doorway as he led Charlie into his apartment. She moved to the center of his living room, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not one more word that you’re imposing,” he said when she opened her mouth. Like he was going to put her in his car and drop her off at some motel. He bit back a smile when she snapped her mouth closed and glared at him.

On the drive back, he’d debated the sleeping arrangements. His apartment was a one bedroom, and his preference would have been to have her in his bed, but not when he thought she might jump out of her skin if he touched her.

“I’ll take the couch, and you can have my bed.” He’d purposely bought an oversized sofa that would fit him for stretching out and watching weekend ball games. Besides, he was used to sleeping on any surface from the rocky ground to the hood of a Humvee.

“No. I’m small. I’ll sleep on the couch.” She marched over and sat in the middle as if claiming the space.

Well, that answered that. She had no intention of sleeping with him. Although he wanted to argue that she should take his bed, the defiant lift of her chin kept him quiet. “Okay, I’ll get you a pillow and throw.”

At some point, they had lost the easy camaraderie that had existed between them earlier. Whether it was because she was upset over her plane, or that she resented his pushing his way into her problems, he didn’t know, as she wasn’t talking. After snatching the extra pillow from his bed, he grabbed a blanket from the linen closet.

“Here you go. The bathroom’s down the hall on the left. If you’re hungry or thirsty, help yourself to anything you can find.” Realizing his words were coming out clipped, he took a deep breath. She was so petite, and the cover and pillow he’d tossed at her almost buried her. “Is there anything you need, Charlie?”
Like talking about what you’re thinking or just letting me hold you?

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

It sounded like a dismissal, and he could take a hint. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, cherub.”

“Nite.”

At the hallway, he almost said to hell with it, went back and scooped her up, and carried her to bed with him. But she’d made it clear she didn’t want his company, so he forced himself to keep going to his bedroom. Mr. Bunny hopped along beside him, and he picked the rabbit up, closing the door behind him. After tossing his furry pet onto the bed, Ryan changed into a pair of loose sweatpants. Laptop in hand, he nudged Mr. Bunny over and settled on top of the covers.

With the three names of the people she suspected, he started with the ex-boyfriend. Aaron Gardner had no priors that he could find, and bringing up his Facebook page, Ryan studied the man’s photo, memorizing his face. “Cocky bastard,” he muttered. In the picture, the man stood next to his stunt plane, wearing a flight suit and reflective sunglasses. There was something about his pose that told Ryan he thought he was hot shit. Scanning Gardner’s posts, Ryan’s already low opinion took a dive to the basement. In almost every one, there seemed to be only one goal—attract women.

What had Charlie seen in the man? Ryan had gone as far as he knew how to go, so he picked up his cell phone and called the Buchanans’ number.

“I’m naked in the hot tub with my wife, so keep it short,” Jake said in greeting. “What’s up, Doc?”

Ryan shook his head at the old joke. “Are you ever going to get tired of asking me that?”

“Probably not.”

“I was afraid of that,” Ryan said, laughing. “I need to talk to your wife.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Just put her on the phone. She can tell you why after she hangs up.”

Whenever they needed to dig up information, Maria Buchanan was their go-to person. If she couldn’t find something on a computer, then it wasn’t there. After telling her what little he knew of the three people on Charlie’s list, he thanked her and went back to his own search.

Ashley Whitmore’s Facebook photo showed a pretty, young woman with shoulder-length light brown hair. Her brown eyes had a hard glitter to them, though. Her lips seemed to be sneering, as if she looked down on those around her. Maybe it was his imagination, influenced by the way she had treated Charlie. Even so, Ryan took an instant dislike to her. Her posts were all about hair, makeup, and clothes—pretty much what Charlie had told him held her stepsister’s interest.

It was difficult to pin attempted murder and curses on her, however. How would a woman who had bullied Charlie into doing her homework for her be smart enough to know how to sabotage a plane? Unless she had an accomplice. There was always that possibility, so he wouldn’t rule her out. Other than a minor accident report, he couldn’t find any dirt on her.

The last one, Roger Whitmore, Charlie’s stepfather, wasn’t on Facebook. No surprise there as he was in prison. Ryan read the newspaper reports of the arrest and subsequent trial. The pictures of him coming and going from the courthouse were of a man Ryan guessed women would find good-looking. Charlie had told him Whitmore was thirty-five when he’d been arrested. His full head of sandy-blond hair touched his collar, and he had the look of a man who worked out. On his right, holding his hand, was a woman Ryan was sure was Charlie’s mother, an older version of Charlie. On his other side, also holding his hand, was Ashley.

Charlie was nowhere in sight in any of the photos. He made a mental note to ask her about that. Had she been separated from her family? It was obvious the man’s wife and daughter supported him, which meant even Charlie’s own mother had chosen her husband over her daughter.

“Who held your hand, Charlene?” he murmured.

Ryan tried to find the trial transcript, but wasn’t sure where to look. He yawned and glanced at the clock to see it was after midnight. It was past his bedtime, and knowing Maria would find the transcript, he shut down his laptop.

With his hand halfway to the lamp to turn it off, he paused. Was Charlie comfortable on the couch? Mr. Bunny, curled up next to Ryan’s side, squeaked, then made a little snoring noise. Ryan glanced at the rabbit and wondered what he was dreaming that made his nose twitch as if there were a dozen carrots dangling just in front of his face.

“Silly wabbit,” he said. Quietly chuckling, he eased out of the bed so as not to wake Mr. Bunny.

At the end of the hallway, Ryan paused and observed his girlfriend. Was she still his girlfriend? He wasn’t sure anymore, not after the way she had brushed him off. She was awake, sitting on the couch. The TV was on with the sound muted. He glanced at it to see what she was watching. Bull riding? With a grin at how she continued to surprise him, he decided she belonged in a bed. With him.

Charlie’s gaze flickered to the eight-second clock off to the side of
the screen as the rider flew up and his body flipped end over end. Dang,
one more second and he would have made the bell. Chase Outlaw was up next—sheesh, that couldn’t be his real name, but it was a kickass bull rider’s name—and he would show them how it was done.

Without her even noticing his approach, Ryan was suddenly in front of her. He scooped her up, and then lowered his body with her cradled in his arms, and punched the Off button on the remote.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to my bed.”

Okay then. Charlie had thought because he’d first said he’d sleep on the couch, that he didn’t want her in his bed. That had left her floundering, asking herself if he’d already tired of her. If he had, she wouldn’t blame him. She was a hot mess of trouble.

He stopped halfway down the hallway and peered down at her. “If you have a problem with that, tell me now. If you don’t . . . have a problem, that is, then don’t say a word.”

Charlie said not a word.

At the edge of his bed, they both looked down at the rabbit snuggled in a nest of covers. “Don’t disturb him,” she said.

“Either he goes, or you go back to the couch.” The sexiest grin she’d ever seen in her life curved his lips. “Please say he goes.”

“He goes.”

“Thank you, God,” he said. After lowering her down opposite his rabbit, he picked up Mr. Bunny and cuddled him in his arms.

As he carried his pet away in the crook of his elbow, she drank him in. Wearing only a pair of sweatpants that hung low on lean hips, he was without doubt the sexiest sight in her limited experience. His back was even broader than she’d imagined when her face had been pressed against it. There were freckles scattered haphazardly over his shoulders that she credited to the Irish in him, and before the night was over, she hoped she’d have the chance to count each one using her tongue.

He set the rabbit on the hallway floor, then turned, closing the door behind him. His gaze settled on her with an intensity that sent scorching heat through all parts of her, to places she was aware of and to places she’d never known existed.

“You look like you’re going to eat me,” she said as he prowled toward her. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized what she’d said, and heat spread from her neck to her cheeks. “I mean—”

“No, cherub, don’t be taking it back.” The orange streaks in his eyes seemed like pure flames of fire. “Where shall I start my feast?”

“Ah . . .” Wherever he wanted was good with her.

“Yeah, ah.” He smiled as he looked down at her. “Remove before flight. Sounds like a great plan.”

She glanced down at the logo on her shirt. In her haste to throw some things into an overnight bag, all she’d tossed into it for night wear was an old pair of comfortable boxers and the faded blue T-shirt.

Stretching out next to her, he cradled the side of her face with his hand, then lowered his mouth to hers, and with nothing but his lips touching hers, he seduced her with his kisses. Before she’d had enough of kissing him, he leaned away and slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt.

“May I?” he asked even as he tugged the material up.

“Yes.” Because that didn’t sound adequate enough, she said, “Yes, please.” His answering smile sent an arrow through her heart, where it lodged, most likely a permanent affliction. The T-shirt was tossed over his shoulder, then he pulled her against him, her bare breasts to his bare chest.

He lifted the ring dangling at the end of the silver chain and studied it. “Are you all right with this?”

Wearing his ring? “I’ll admit I thought you were just kidding around, but I like pretending I belong to someone. So yes, I’m all right with it for as long as you want. Just let me know when you want your ring back,” she said to make sure he knew that she understood the ring was not hers to keep.

“I’m not even sure which one of those things you said to address first.” He lowered the ring and tucked it into the valley of her breasts. “Looks good there.”

There was warmth in his eyes as he put his hand on the side of her waist, then glided his palm up her body. At the curve of her breast, he paused and rubbed his thumb over her skin, the barest of touches that gave her goose bumps.

“Okay, Charlene, here’s the truth. Maybe I was playing a game with you in the beginning, but no more. I want you for a real girlfriend, not a pretend one. Let’s make that for as long as we both want.”

When he paused, seeming to wait for a response, she nodded. “I’d like that.” Understatement there. She’d freaking love it.

“Good.” His hand moved up and over, until his fingers were spread over her left breast. “As for pretending you belong to someone, stop it. Until being together no longer feels right to us, you belong to me, and I belong to you. Okay?”

Another nod was all she could give him. If she tried to speak, he would hear her voice tremble.

“And last but definitely not least, when I asked if you were all right with this, I wasn’t talking about my ring. I meant making love with me tonight. Are you?”

At some point, she was going to have to talk, but the lump in her throat was still there, so she nodded. Again. Although she hadn’t missed his caveat that their time together would only last as long as it felt right for both of them, she decided to throw caution to the wind. Wasn’t that how she lived her life every time she pointed her aerobatic plane nose up?

“Have you forgotten how to talk?”

From the laughter she heard in his voice, she knew he was teasing her. It was so novel to have someone tease her that the lump in her throat doubled in size. To keep from answering, she attacked him.

“Okay then,” he said, spreading out his arms when she straddled him. “Have at me. Just think of me as your boy toy.”

That made her laugh. “How about that. You just handed me the keys to the candy store, Hot Guy.” Yay her, she could talk again. She ground her pelvis against the bulge in his sweatpants. “Did I tell you I have an insatiable sweet tooth?” Where was that flirting coming from? If this was a new her, she liked it. No, she loved it.

“No, you neglected to mention that, and you should have. It seems like an important fact about you.” Faster than she could blink, he flipped her underneath him. “Let’s stop playing, Charlie, and go for the real thing, okay?”

“Yes. Okay.” His heat surrounded her body, warming her. Anything he asked of her at that moment would be okay with her. More than okay.