Staking His Claim (12 page)

Matt’s hand went cold in hers. She wanted to gauge his expression, but couldn’t while Brent watched her so closely. “Yes, it’s far, but—”

“Does it pay more than the Met position?”

She thought back to the e-mails she’d exchanged with the director. “Yes,” she had to admit. “Quite a bit more, actually. And it includes housing, but I haven’t—”

“Wow.” He shook his head. “I can’t say I’m happy about you moving so far away, but I could never hold you back, Luce. It’s a great opportunity.”

Lucy scowled at him. Rationally, she knew her brother was only being supportive, but mostly she just heard him sending her packing across the Atlantic without asking what she wanted, or even attempting to keep her close. It hurt like hell.

Matt nodded once, his jaw flexing. “That’s great, Lucy. Looks like all that hard work paid off. You should take the offer.”

His words fell heavily on her ears. The determination in his face was gone. In fact, his eyes held no trace of emotion at all. Had she misjudged his intention to reveal their relationship to Brent?

Feeling as though someone were stepping on her lungs, she released his hand under the table. No sense in pretending to be anything more than a casual hookup. Even if she hadn’t misjudged, if he was willing to let their chance to be together fizzle and die without a fight, maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t come clean. She wanted a man who
would
fight for her, damn the consequences.

“Well, this blows.” Brent let out a breath and nodded at Matt. “What were you going to say, anyway?”

Briefly, Matt’s gaze flashed to Lucy. “Nothing. Except, your car has a ticket on it. You forgot to put your NYPD registration in the window again.”

“
Dammit
.”

Lucy didn’t turn around as Matt turned and strode from Quincy’s. But before he even reached the door, she’d shed her devastation…and gotten good and pissed.

Chapter Thirteen

Matt knew the second Lucy sensed his presence. Across the street, her lips parted slightly on a deep breath, shoulders tightening almost imperceptibly. The fact that she didn’t turn her head to seek him out told him she’d known he would come. It also meant she’d decided to be finished with him. He didn’t blame her, even as everything inside him powerfully,
hatefully,
rebelled at that assumption. Furthermore, he should
not
be here. He’d fucked his chances yesterday. Damning himself with his silence in Quincy’s. Clearly his actions, or lack thereof, hadn’t been lost on her.

When he thought of the hope he’d seen in her eyes after he’d taken her hand…it made him feel sick with guilt. Livid with himself for not being the steadfast man she deserved.

He’d walked into the restaurant with every intention of revealing his feelings in front of her brother. Not spending every night of the foreseeable future with her tucked against his chest had been a hell he didn’t want to face. His vision of walking out of there holding her hand, whether or not he had two black eyes, was mere moments from being a reality.

Then…Paris.

She’d told him about the job offer on the drive from Syracuse, but that day she’d been Sasha. Not Lucy. He’d chalked it up to a fabrication. Obviously, it hadn’t been. He’d already been less-than-confident about his ability to make her happy. Even now, she stood among a group of strangers, preparing to salsa dance. In public. All by herself. She was brave and spirited. He would dim that part of her in no time. He’d seen ugly things, continued to see them every day. Hell, his job was to take people out when no other option existed. He couldn’t compete with the possibilities she had laid out in front of her.

He’d been willing to try. To take a leap of faith because the way he felt about her left him no choice. But he wouldn’t be the reason she turned down such an amazing opportunity. He’d asked a woman to put her life on hold once before while he fought overseas. She’d grown bitter and resentful. Unfaithful. She’d ended up hating him. That is exactly what would happen if he pursued Lucy. The pain from that would go
far
beyond what his ex-fiancée had been capable of inflicting.

So what the hell was he doing here? He should by lying low, letting her move on and get ready for Paris. Only, her left-behind itinerary had taunted him from his kitchen table.
Sunset Salsa 6:00, Lincoln Center.
He’d tried to stay away. He
really
had. But the thought of letting her fly thousands of miles away without an explanation didn’t work for him. He needed her to understand why he’d backed off when he’d really wanted to drag her onto his lap and beg her to stay in New York.

Matt had come for another reason, though. One that pumped in his blood and refused to listen to rational thought. The idea of Lucy dancing outdoors, around other males…basically, that didn’t fucking fly with him. No matter how many times he told himself it was none of his business.

What the hell are you going to do about it? You don’t dance. She won’t even look at you.

He’d lose his goddamn mind. That’s what he would do.

She swayed to the Latin music, watching closely as the instructor explained the basic moves. In a red sundress that outlined her breasts, belly, and hips, hair swept off her neck in a clip, she looked like a delicious piece of forbidden fruit.

Matt wanted to devour her in one bite.

It was more than that, though. Her look of concentration, the way she moved her mouth as if repeating the instructor’s words under her breath…he could watch her all day and never tire of it. She made him want to fuck. To lay his head in her lap and listen to her talk. To shake her until she admitted it would never work between them.

Yet
forbidden
was the only way to describe her. Forbidden to
him
. Not the endless stream of men who would flock to her positive energy wherever she went. Until she picked one of the bastards and decided to give him her trust, her body. Her smile. The very idea of it made him want to repeatedly slam his head against the steering wheel of his car.

He should leave.
Now
. Just put the car in drive and pull away. Too bad he couldn’t even fool himself into thinking that was a possibility. He’d come here knowing exactly what would happen. Any second now, some asshole would try to dance with her and he’d be there to stop it. Didn’t have a choice in the matter. Maybe when she moved across the Atlantic, he’d be able to deal with the idea of her with someone else. Someone who wasn’t him.

Not likely.

Until she left New York, however, the possessiveness she’d coaxed to life inside of him had started making the decisions. The drumming in his chest that insisted she was
his
steadily picked up its pace. A muscle ticked in his jaw, counting the seconds.

Then it happened. Dancers began to pair off. He saw two men converge on her at once and didn’t wait to see any more. He threw the car in drive and entered an underground pay parking structure located on the adjacent side street. After parking in the first available spot, which much to his frustration ended up being all the way in back, he exited the vehicle at a fast clip. When the attendant came forward to take his keys, he flashed his badge and kept walking. The halogen lights above him gave off an electrical buzz, matching the one sounding in his head.

His pace didn’t slow as he rounded the corner and the quad filled with dancers came into view. He saw Lucy immediately, standing out as she did in her red dress. She threw her head back, laughing at something the man in front of her said. The man who was standing far too close.

The man who was at least ninety.

Matt stopped at the edge of the quad. When Lucy looked over at him sharply, he realized he’d been laughing. That brought him up short. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so loud. So freely. It felt unnatural. It felt…really good. His feet started moving before he’d made a conscious decision, only knowing he needed to be near her. She watched him approach warily, appearing to do her best to pay attention to her partner.

The closer he got, the louder his heart pounded. “Lucy.” God, it felt good just to say her name out loud. Some of the pressure drained from his chest.

She raised a single eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Can we talk?”

“Not right now.” She nodded at her partner. “I’m dancing with Maurice.”

Maurice saluted him. “Is she yours?”

Yes
. The answer boomed inside his head, but didn’t translate to his lips. He didn’t know how Lucy would react. Furthermore, he knew if he said it out loud, it would be so. There would be no going back, and she couldn’t be his.

That momentary hesitation caused Lucy’s cheeks to flush red. “Go away, Matt.”

Maurice shook his head, then turned to Lucy. “I have a grandson. He’s a musician, though,” he added in a warning tone.

“Does he dance?”

“Honey, that’s
all
he does.”

She shot a pointed look at Matt. “Sold.”

A couple dancing behind him nearly plowed into him, so he stepped closer to Lucy. “I understand why you’re upset, but what happened…it was for the best.”

…

The studio audience inside Lucy’s head erupted in a series of boos and hisses. Even the host shook his head sadly, letting the microphone drop to his thigh.

She had the sudden urge to take off her high heels and hurl them at Matt, screaming obscenities and cursing him to a lifetime of blue balls. Instead, she kept her smile firmly in place and did her honest best to ignore him. Not an easy accomplishment when he stood there looking so
climbable
. Where did he get off filling out a black T-shirt and jeans like that? As if a tailor had sewn them onto him, leaving just the right amount of room to accommodate the cut muscles of his arms, chest, and legs, even better than his uniform normally did. She had a sudden memory of running her hands up those sculpted pecs, how they’d flexed beneath her fingers. How much he’d liked it.

Maurice. Focus on Maurice. Don’t think about the way Matt is looking at you.
That mixture of lost and hungry. It did funny things to her senses.

Yesterday, while she’d been silently willing him to grab on to her with both hands and never let go, he’d balked, trampling all over her feelings like a stampeding herd of buffalo. Holding her hand one second, sending her packing the next. If he’d come here to offer her some consolation prize in the form of half-assed explanations, he could keep them. She wasn’t interested.

The alternative, that he’d come here for sex, was painful to consider. But maybe her assumption that they were more had been just that. An assumption. What other conclusion could she draw when he touched her at every available opportunity, but refused to say the words?

A part of her, the destructive side she’d worked so hard to tame over the years, wanted to take this game he was playing with her heart and flip it on its arrogant head. Would it make her feel better to give him a taste of that bitter medicine? Perhaps not. But at this point, she couldn’t think of any other option apart from listening to his explanation, and caving in to whatever he asked of her, be it a strictly physical relationship or understanding. She didn’t want to understand. Didn’t have the capacity for it at the moment when her heart felt so damn heavy.

She could, however, take charge of the situation and end this game between them on her own terms. One last time to feed the attraction. She could handle that. One last time to show him what he’d be missing when
she
voluntarily walked away, with her pride intact.

Lucy ignored the little voice in her head that told her it was a bad idea. She’d once been an expert at ignoring that voice and tapped into that girl now. Being someone else for the moment helped mask the hurt.

The song ended and she stepped back from Maurice, whose eyes shifted between her and Matt with interest. Matt still stood there watching her, like an immovable brick wall. “You still want to have that talk?”

Surprise crossed his features before he hid it. “Yes. I would.”

She nodded, then turned back to Maurice, kissing him on both cheeks. “It has been a distinct pleasure, my dear.”

“You come back next week.” He patted her shoulder. “I’ll bring my grandson.”

“She won’t be here next week,” Matt said.

“I won’t? Why is that?”

He frowned. “You’re going to Paris.”

“I am?” She skirted past him, doing her best to hide the satisfaction rippling through her. “That’s news to me.”

A second later, he caught up with her. Her heart clenched a little when he took her hand, but it was only to lead her in the opposite direction. “My car is in the garage. We’ll go somewhere and
talk
.” A beat passed. “You’re going to Paris.”

Lucy blinked away the stupid moisture that sprung to her eyes. “God, one minute you won’t leave me alone, the next you can’t wait to get rid of me. I hereby declare you the champion of mixed signals.”

“Why would you pass that up?”

She didn’t answer his question. They entered the garage and she was grateful for the dimness. She needed to be cool, in control, and she couldn’t do that if her eyes were shining. She knew he was waiting for her to answer his question as they walked deeper into the underground parking structure, but she refused. His car came into sight and an alarm signal went off in her head. She couldn’t get into that car with him. If they went somewhere, if they talked, it would be harder to walk away from him afterward. As she’d known he would, he walked to the passenger side to open the door for her.

Before he could reach it, she let her body slide against his, biting her lip to keep from moaning. Why did his body have to hit her in all the right spots? Taking a deep breath, she gave in to her earlier fantasy of running his hands over his chest. “Why don’t you stop pretending you want to talk?”

His eyes were dark, throat working as she touched him, but her words made him do a double take. “What does that mean?”

Lucy lightly dragged her nails down his chest and abdomen, watching him shudder. When her hands started working his belt buckle, he groaned and fit their mouths together. He pulled back after only one kiss, even though she could tell it cost him. “What are you doing, baby? This isn’t why I came to get you.”

She unzipped his jeans and reached inside to stroke his heavy erection. “Liar.”

Matt braced his hands on the roof of his car. “Fuck. You’re going to have to stop this. I don’t know how to stop when it comes to you.”

“I don’t want to stop.”