The Right To Remain Mine (14 page)

        "Guess who I heard she's been bumping uglies with," Lewis said, turning to watch her saunter in the opposite direction.

        Raith came around abruptly and eyed the young deputy with frank curiosity. "Who's that?" This might prove to be an interesting piece of information.

        "That DiAngelo fellow. You know, the youngest county councilman who just got voted in last election. What's his first name? I never remember."

        "Cole," Raith murmured, turning back to watch DeVane pause and chat with a young male lawyer way on the other side of the corridor. "Cole DiAngelo," he added, remembering the voice he'd heard on her message machine, canceling a date with her. He tried not to feel jealous, but it didn't work.

        "No, I heard she was screwing the assistant county attorney," Hinton disagreed with Lewis.

        "Hale?" Raith uttered the name. "You mean Rodney Hale?" Oh, now he was really ticked at Hale.

        "Hmm," Greggor said, scratching his chin. "And here I thought she was serious about some dentist over in Darlington. They're damn near married is what I heard."

        Raith couldn't take it anymore. If his good ol' pals named one more guy for him to put on his murder list, he was just going to blow. "Well, I know who she's not sleeping with," he announced, glowering at the trio of men who couldn't get their eyes off DeVane's rear. "And that's all of you."

        Three pair of stunned gazes flashed his way. "You're such an ass," Greggor muttered, looking put out.

        "Gah, Malloy," Hinton agreed. "What crawled up your butt and died?"

        A young county councilman, an assistant county attorney, and a freaking dentist, that's what. He stared DeVane down with a lethal glare. She paused and glanced toward his group but didn't make eye contact with him. He felt the rejection all the way to his boots. Not once had any of his codeputies suggested he might've ever been with her. But hell, even if he did try to tell them he had spent two separate nights making it with the sexy lady lawyer, they'd merely laugh him off stage, especially with her right there, treating him as if he didn't exist.

        His teeth ground together. He wanted to hate her. Better yet, he wanted to eye her with cool disdain and feel nothing. He didn't like how much it bothered him that she could completely blow him off. And he didn't particularly wish to see her naked and writhing against him every time he closed his eyes, either. But damn it, the woman had possessed him, wormed her way into his head and seriously messed with his every thought.

        He jerked his eyes away from her so he wouldn't have to look at her any more, only to find all three of Lewis, Greggor and Hinton watching him peculiarly.

        "You okay, Malloy?" Greggor asked.

        Raith opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but he was saved by the voice of his boss coming from directly behind him.

        "Boys," said the sheriff, Tom Ballard, causing all four men to straighten immediately and give him their undivided attention.

        "Sheriff," they answered in respectful unison.

        "What's the big convention about? Or are you just standing around, gossiping like a bunch of old hens?"

        Four deputies immediately started in with four different excuses as to why they were gathered. None of their stories matched.

        "Doesn't matter," the sheriff cut in, waving their tiresome excuses aside. "I'm glad I've got this many of you in one spot. I'm sure you've already heard about Dean Wilmer quitting this morning. I need volunteers to take on his evening shift for the next few days until we get schedules rearranged."

        Raith was the first to respond. "I'll take some." He knew all three men around him had families and besides, he really could use some extra cash.

        "Thank you, Lieutenant," Ballard said, nodding gratefully. "I'll need you to work a double today."

        "That's fine," Raith responded.

        "Stop by the office when you're done here and put your name on the list I've tacked on the bulletin board. If you want tomorrow too, it's—"

        "Morning, Sheriff." The voice of Willow DeVane broke into their conversation.

        Both Raith and his boss lifted their faces. And there she strolled, moving toward them, not stopping until she was close enough to touch. But she didn't look at Raith. No. She smiled up at Tom Ballard.

        "Well, hello there, Willow," the sheriff said, completely forgetting his conversation with his deputies. "How are you today?"

        "I'm just fine, Sheriff," DeVane answered, her smile practically oozing with sugary sweetness. "Wanted to make sure you got your invitation to Daddy's birthday party. It's going to be bash of the year. You don't want to miss it."

        "Me and the wife are planning on going already. We're looking forward to it."

        DeVane smiled once again at the older man and set her hand on his upper arm. "You won't be disappointed," she promised, the tone in her voice doing all sorts of crazy things to Raith's hormones.

        He just wanted to pick her up, sling her over his shoulder and carry her off to his lair. His mouth was already watering, remembering how she tasted. But the damn woman still didn't give him one glance. Instead, she turned to Lewis next and took his arm, hooking their elbows together companionably and making the kid gape at her slim fingers on him. His Adam's apple nervously slid up and then back down.

        "You're Officer Lewis, right?" she asked.

        He bobbed his head, his eyes growing wider; Raith was surprised they didn't fall out of their sockets. He rolled his own eyes at the boy's response. What was worse, her simple attention to his co-deputy made him want to hit something.

        "I was curious if you had served divorce papers to Laurence Wainright. I have a client who filed last week, but she doesn't think he's received the news."

        "Wainright," Lewis repeated nervously, his hand reaching down toward his pants so he could wipe his sweaty palms on his thigh. "The name sounds familiar," he finally answered. "I think he's on my route today."

        DeVane's smile glowed. "Great. I'll let my client know her husband will be getting his papers by the end of the day then."

        Unable to take any more of watching her in action, Raith turned away and started off. If she didn't want to talk to him, look at him, tell him to piss off, fine. He wasn't going to stand there, mooning over her all day. He had a double to work.

~ * ~

        By midnight when he clocked off his second shift, Raith was slap worn out and crabby to boot. Still blaming his mood on one woman, he drove by her place, curious as to who was keeping her company tonight. Was it the councilman? The lawyer? The dentist?

        No, he decided, pulling to the curb and parking his patrol car. Tonight it was going to be the cop.

        As he turned off the engine, he decided if she was going to control so much of his thoughts, he was going to get what he wanted from her in return. Through the chilly night and shadows cast by the street lamps, Raith wandered up her drive to the back yard where her kitchen light shone like a beacon, guiding him home. He stepped onto her back porch and knocked. When no one answered within thirty seconds, he tried the knob and found it open.

        Shaking his head, he entered the quiet house. "Damn fool woman," he muttered. If she didn't learn to lock that door, she was going to find herself in a world of hurt when the wrong fellow decided to come right on in as if he owned the place.

        "Hello?" he called, his voice echoing eerily around the empty room. "DeVane?"

        He hadn't been in her house in over a week. The morning after the play, he'd risen early and snuck from her bed, leaving before she woke. A cowardly move, sure, but he didn't know how to deal with the morning after. Not with her. They had yet to talk about what was happening between them or pinpoint exactly what this was they were starting. For all he knew, they still fell under the category of a one-night stand that had accidently slipped into two.

        He knew he wasn't invited, but when DeVane didn't answer, he frowned. A feeling of unease rolled through him. After working in a high risk job for as long as he had, he'd learned over the years to trust his gut. And his gut told him someone else uninvited had been trespassing.

        Instantly, he pulled his gun from its holster. He wanted to yell DeVane's name again, locate her and assure himself she was okay. But if someone else was in the house—someone unwelcome—he didn't want to alert the intruder to his presence any more than he already had.

        After checking the hall, he entered it, going through each room and securing them. He knew he'd probably scare the crap out of DeVane when he finally found her and she saw him with an unholstered weapon. But she'd get over it. He'd rather be safe than sorry.

        The rest of the house remained pitch black, which was strange. He made his way along the dark floors, checking every nook and cranny, all the doors and windows, saving her bedroom for last.

        Breathing unsteadily, a little afraid of what he might find, he kept his path true, not caring about anything except the moment he could see her again. He used his tactical training and walked with quick, evenly-spaced steps, keeping his gun level and stabilized.

        Her breathing met him as soon as he entered the room. The slow, steady rhythm had his heart jerking with a sudden anxiousness that went beyond desire and bordered on bone-crippling relief. She was alive and safe. He dropped his gun to his side, and after taking a moment to let his heart stutter back into sync with the rest of his body, he returned the Glock to its holster.

        In the dark, he barely made out the bed much less saw her sleeping on it, but he started in that direction anyway, focused on every breath she took.

        As upset as he was at her for scaring the shit out of him, the situation reminded of him of back when he'd been married. Forgetting the lecture he'd planned on giving DeVane, he recalled how he'd worked plenty of night shifts in his day. And every night he came home to a dark house, he would tiptoe through the halls and undress in the dark so as not to wake Deb.

        Doing exactly that now, he took off his duty belt and then shucked his shirt and pants, all the while missing the days when he had someone to come home to, someone there waiting. Even if Deb had reamed him out the next morning for never being home, he liked having another person around, filling the void.

        In that moment, he realized what he was really doing here in DeVane's bedroom, pulling Velcro apart to remove his bulletproof vest. He paused, waiting to see if the loud crackling sound woke her. When she didn't stir, he continued, tugging off his Under-Armor shirt before shuffling toward the bed.

        Sex wasn't the most important thing on his mind. He craved the companionship, having someone warm, and human, and female next to him. Hell, if she never woke up to find him crawling under the covers with her, that would be just fine by him. For tonight, he didn't want to go home to a lonely house; he wanted to lie next to her and listen to her breathe.

        He eased down, hoping she didn't have a gun under her pillow and wouldn't shoot him for sneaking into her house. But the woman was out cold. She had to be the heaviest sleeper he'd ever met because she didn't once react to his presence.

        Still, he held his breath as he settled his head onto the pillow next to hers. Though she had no reason to expect his company, the woman still hogged the mattress. Raith managed to turn to his side and keep himself on the last bit of bed left. And then, in slow degrees, he relaxed.

        DeVane snoozed peacefully next to him. He smiled in the dark, closing his eyes. Warm and comfortable, he sank deeper into the blankets and thought he could fall asleep within seconds.

        He was almost under when he unconsciously reached out to touch her, giving himself one more confirmation she was truly there, secure and unharmed. But when he felt a naked back, his eyes popped open.

        Good God, was she naked in this bed with him?

        Though he was naked too, he at least thought she'd be wearing something more. Sleeping with a nude DeVane was an entirely different story. Suddenly, sex was pretty damn important. Investigating her state of dress, he softly stroked her bare back, making her sigh in her sleep, a sound which caught him right between the legs, throbbing with each heartbeat.

        Skimming his hand down, he frowned, a little disappointed to come across a pair of panties, one of those skimpy French-cut things with the spaghetti strap waistband. His fingers found their way inside the silky cloth in no time, where he palmed her backside.

        When she whimpered his name and pushed back against his hand, he felt it was his duty to proceed and service her. To serve and protect, he thought with a grin. Speaking of protect, he was glad he remembered to slip a new condom into his wallet last week. He reached up to cup her naked breast as he pressed his arousal against her. Still invading her underwear, he skimmed his fingers around to the front and buried them in a nest of curls.

        DeVane moved restlessly against him. Crawling closer, he nearly came undone when she sighed. "God, you are so hot."

        She came awake, sucking in a breath, her body tensing in his arms. "What—"

        "Shh," he soothed, tightening his grip on her to keep her from attacking him. "It's just me," he explained as he slipped her panties off.

        After a quiet, non-resisting moment, she mumbled, "Malloy?"

        Relieved air rushed from his lungs, glad she hadn't guessed someone else. "Defense lesson number two," he said and rubbed himself against her bare bottom. "A stranger breaks into your house in the middle of the night and crawls into bed with you. What do you do?" He lifted her thigh and positioned himself behind her. She jerked in surprise.