Matt—The Callahan Brothers (Brazos Bend Book 2) (16 page)

He kissed his way across her flat stomach toward his glorious goal. Anticipation clawed at him and he battled back the need to hurry, to rush. He had tonight with her. Just tonight. He’d do his all to make it last.

“I feel so wicked,” she breathed. “Out here like this, naked beneath the stars with the devil himself.”

“Demon,” he murmured, slipping off the sun deck to kneel on the cushioned bench below. “I’m Demon.”

He tasted her and the demon in him stirred.
 

They thrashed and rolled and rocked the boat. Her frenzied mouth streaked over him, her greedy hands tearing off his swim trunks. She reached for him, cupped him, stroked him until he groaned.

“You win,” he conceded, his breath coming in vicious pants. He kneed her legs apart. His hands gripped her hips and he lifted her into position.
 

“Wait,” she cried, coming up on her elbows. “Safe sex!”

He’d forgotten. He never forgot!

“Don’t tell me you forgot them!”

“No. In the basket.” He scrambled off the sun deck.

“Then get one. Hurry!”

He tore into the basket, tossing aside napkins and plastic bags, muttering beneath his breath as he groped for that blessed square of foil. When finally he found it, he let out a cheer of triumph.

Back on the sun deck, Torie Bradshaw laughed. The sound rippled across the water and called to Matt like a siren’s song.

“Are you laughing at me, lady?”

“At us, Callahan.” She beamed at him. “At us. You know, sex doesn’t always have to be a war.”

“Ya think?”

“I think you’re magnificent and I’m the luckiest lady in Texas right now.”

And I’m the luckiest man.

In that moment, he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman. His hand shook as he tore open the packet and smoothed the condom on. He went to her, rose above her, and said, “How about we do this together?”

“Oh, oh, yeah.”

As he drove into her she rose to meet him. Their gazes met and held as he stroked, slowly, steadily, taking them both up. Tension built; his pace picked up. The need for release pressed at the base of his spine.

This beautiful woman. This beautiful moonlit night.

Torie cried out, her body contracting around him. Helpless, Matt fell with her into the warm, rushing whirlpool of pleasure.

When he could breathe again, one thought alone existed in his mind.
 

Heaven help me, I’ll never forget her.

Chapter Nine

Torie focused her camera lens and snapped off a half-dozen shots of the towheaded toddler as he played with an indulgent Gigi. She was getting some great shots. The little boy’s parents would be thrilled.

This was her next-to-last appointment, and the morning had gone fast. The kids had arrived on time and for the most part performed their job of sitting in the bluebonnets looking adorable without complaint. The weather was gorgeous—the sky blue, the bluebonnets bluer. Torie’s heart, however, was the bluest of them all.

She didn’t want to leave—not these kind, welcoming people of Brazos Bend, and not their favorite bad boy, Matthew “Demon” Callahan.

She was seriously infatuated with the man. At some point during her mostly sleepless night, she’d declared him aptly named. Demons were supernatural beings with special powers, after all. How else could she explain the things he’d done to her last night? She ached in places that hadn’t ached in years, was sore in places that had never been sore before.

How delicious was that?

She glanced across the road to where the man stood guard. He looked every inch the G-man today, she thought, though more Secret Service than CIA. Dressed in dark slacks and a sport jacket—to hide the bulge of a gun—and wearing dark glasses and a fierce expression, he kept close watch on the surroundings, making sure no one posed a threat to Torie or the families who’d arrived for their bluebonnet shots.

Out at his lake house, the morning had gotten off to a shaky start. Tired, cranky—the man didn’t own a coffeepot—and a little embarrassed by the way she’d woken up screaming in orgasm during what he called his breakfast surprise, she’d not known how to act around him. Unaccustomed to such awkwardness, she’d covered it with senseless, shallow prattle, which only made her feel even more stupid. Torie wasn’t a prattler.

Matt hadn’t helped. Mr. Smooth had disappeared at dawn, leaving Mr. Silent-and-sort-of-Snotty in his wake. He’d refused her request to join him on his morning run, then returned in a short, snippy mood. It had been obvious she’d overstayed her welcome, but what was a girl supposed to do? Hitchhike back to Cottonwood Cottage?

He’d barely spoken to her on the ride into town, the jerk. She didn’t know why. She’d made him a happy camper last night, too. He needed to work on his morning-after routine, and that surprised her. Someone with his experience should have that down pat by now.

Of course, she needed to work on her own morning-after response. She had no more business being blue than he had being snarky. Somehow, though, she’d let him past her defenses. She’d learned better than that years ago. How dumb could she be?

Torie had brooded about it on the drive into town, keeping her own mouth shut. After retrieving Gigi from the groomer, she’d briefly considered just getting in her car and making tracks, but by the time she’d gone up to her room at Cottonwood Cottage and changed her clothes, her first customer had arrived. No way could she resist the two-year-old’s big brown eyes.

Once she’d gone to work, she’d been able to forget about Matt. Well, for the most part, anyway. Time spent behind the camera was a pleasure, and the novelty of doing something different and creative a joy. While scoring the money shot of a badly behaving celebrity produced an adrenaline rush that was hard to beat, capturing a toddler’s delight when a yellow butterfly landed on his fingertip provided its own high.

She glanced up from her viewfinder to see a black SUV with tinted windows approach the bed-and-breakfast. Matt went on alert, hanging up his cell phone and waving for the driver to stop. Nerves danced in Torie’s stomach. Her stalker wouldn’t just drive up and say hello, would he?

The driver’s-side window slid down, but Matt blocked her view of the person inside. She breathed a little sigh of relief when he stepped back and motioned for the driver to park in front of Cottonwood Cottage.

Maybe it was her next appointment. She checked her notebook. Must be the Hardeman family.

Instead, a man the size of a mountain climbed out of the vehicle. Oh. Her bodyguard. Matt’s replacement.

He’d probably leave now.

Her one-night stupendous stand was over, and now she had to start worrying about her stalker again.

Torie’s stomach sank. Her mood plummeted. For the first time since yesterday, she felt scared.

Don’t be stupid,
she told herself.
Look at this man. He’s huge. He’s probably twice the bodyguard that Matt would be.

Yeah, but he wouldn’t be guarding her body in quite such an intimate way.

Sighing, Torie repositioned herself and sneaked in a backside shot of Matt as he spoke with the man from Dallas. It couldn’t replace the poster he’d stolen, but a clothed butt shot of Matt Callahan was better than no butt shot at all.

Determined to act both professionally and with pride, she dismissed the events in the road and focused her attention on those in the field. Gigi and darling little Travis Nelson were playing tug-of-war over a blue baby blanket. In the next few minutes, she got what she anticipated would be the best photos of the day as Travis achieved victory in battle, and she focused tight on his rosy cheeks and toothy grin.

When she finished up with Travis, she scooped Gigi into her arms and crossed to where the two men stood. Gigi growled at Matt, who frowned back before introducing Torie to Bill Reynolds. “I’m pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

He could have been any of the dozens of soldiers under her father’s command whom she’d met over the years. He had a military bearing, military formality, even a military haircut. Torie smothered the urge to respond like a bratty teenager and jolt him out of his reserve. Instead, she smiled and offered her hand. “Thank you for taking my case.”

His handshake was brief and businesslike. “Glad to be of service, ma’am.”

Another “ma’am.” Something told her they wouldn’t be passing time with small talk. “This is Gigi. The stalker has already threatened her once, and you need to understand that she’s family to me. Nothing bad can happen to Gigi.”

The bodyguard’s gaze flickered down to the dog, then moved impassively back to her. “Very well, ma’am.”

Matt rolled his eyes.

Torie pasted on a smile. “Well, then. I have one more appointment; then I’ll be ready to go.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

As she started to turn away, Matt spoke up. “I’ve hired a private investigator to look into the situation in LA. In the meantime, Reynolds will take you to a safe house in Austin.”

She stopped. “Excuse me? I didn’t ask you to hire an investigator.”

“You agreed you needed one. I’m just helping out.”
 

Torie’s emotions were in turmoil. She wanted his help more than anything, but not this way. Since he was sending her away, she needed to be away. She needed to put Matt Callahan in the past and take control of her future. This letting her life be dictated by others—be they stalkers or her father or her one-night lover—was for the birds. “It’s not your responsibility, Callahan. I’m not your responsibility. I’ll hire my own private investigator, thank you very much.” She whirled on Bill Reynolds. “Do you have a private investigator you can recommend?”

“Yes, ma’am. But—”

“Oh, stop with the ma’am’s, please. My name is Torie. Who is it? Do you have a phone number? I’ll call him right now.”

With a glance at Matt, the bodyguard reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a half-dozen cards. Shuffling through them, he handed one to Torie, saying, “This guy is the best in the business.”

She gave Matt a challenging smile, then glanced down at the card, containing only a name and a phone number. Inwardly, Torie groaned. Mark Callahan.

She glanced up at Matt. “Let me guess.”

He shrugged. “My brother is the best.”

“Incoming auto,” Reynolds said abruptly, shifting to shield Torie. Matt gave the approaching minivan a hard look. “Who’s your next appointment?”

“Sarah Hardeman.”

He nodded. “That’s a Fain Elementary parking pass on the windshield. This one’s okay, Reynolds.”

“This is a poor way to handle protection,” the bodyguard grumbled.

“It’s a poor way to handle a lot of things,” Torie agreed, shooting a fulminating look toward Matt before she turned and walked away.

Torie recognized that she wasn’t being completely fair. He’d been upfront with her from the beginning and she’d gone to bed with him last night knowing, and accepting, that last night was all they’d ever have. What she hadn’t known going into it was how spectacular the night would be and how depressing she’d find it to be faced with the fact that he could so easily walk away.

She simply wasn’t the type for one-night stands.

Not that she was the type for long-term, either. Just ask her father. He’d found it easy enough to send her on her way. She’d learned early on that she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, well behaved enough.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Torie. Snap out of it. You’re running way too close to self-pity here.

To cap off her mood, the Hardeman child turned out to be a little monster. That, along with the steady stream of mothers who’d heard about the shoot and wanted their darlings included, which in turn caused Mr. Reynolds to get a peculiar tick in his face and made Torie happy to finish up the sitting, declare her picture taking done, and escape to her room in Cottonwood Cottage. The bed—which she’d never tested—looked inviting and she longed to pull a Goldilocks and lie down.

Instead, she opened her suitcase and began packing. Five minutes later, she tugged the zipper closed, then turned at the sound of a noise from the doorway. Matt Callahan leaned against the doorjamb with his arms crossed.

Torie pasted on a bright, but totally fake, smile. “Well, superspy, I guess this time it’s really goodbye.”

“Actually, I’m hoping you’ll do a favor for me first.”

Warily, she asked, “What kind of favor?”

“Would you do one more sitting?”

“Ah, Matt. I’ve put everything away, and honestly, after that Hardeman boy, I don’t think I have it in me to be nice to another kid.”

“No kids involved.” Appearing pained, he explained further. “It’s a dog. Another rat dog. It’s ... oh, hell, Torie.”

Torie. Not Victoria. This is interesting.

Matt plowed his fingers through his hair. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t ask, but he’s just so ... goofy ... About—”

A large, deep voice boomed from downstairs. “Matthew? What’s taking so long? If you don’t hurry up, Paco is gonna roll in the dirt and mess up his outfit before the picture taking.”

“—his dog.” Matt sighed and hung his head. “It’s Branch. Branch Callahan. He’s my father.”