Too Sexy for his Stetson (17 page)

“Don’t—just don’t. Not now.” During their retreat, his mind had been playing a non–stop video clip, first of Skip Coogan shaking hands with McKee, and then of all the possible scenarios that could have played out, all the things the pothead Neo Nazis might have done to Brandy if they’d found her.

“Sorry.” His gut refused to unclench. He stopped and braced his hands on his knees, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. He didn’t like the way his thoughts tied his stomach in knots, made him feel—like he wasn’t in control. Made him feel like Brandy was working her way under his skin. If anything had happened to her… There was a lot to be said for having a dog as a partner. And there was a lot to be said for the virtues of a non–committed relationship. His gut shouldn’t be roiling the way it was.

Sure, FTOs had a certain amount of professional concern for their recruits. But what he was feeling wasn’t even close to that. This kind of gut–wrenching anxiety could eat a man up, spit him out, and leave him defenseless.

But if he let his thoughts dwell on Brandy, maybe he could keep his mind off the other axe wedged between his ribs. The same old axe that Brandy had been grinding all along. Skip could be corrupt. The thought nagged at him, chipping away the foundation of everything Blade believed in. He’d been denying it all along and didn’t want to confront it now. So he told himself the possibility of Skip being connected with the NNFF was insane. Impossible. He had to be working undercover.

Blade was capable of letting things fester inside of him with the best of them, but on this subject he would not procrastinate.

“I’ll talk to Skip and get to the bottom of this.” He hoped Brandy didn’t notice the tremor in his voice. “What you see is not always what it seems to be.”

Once he made the call, and his idol confirmed he was working undercover, infiltrating the NNFF compound, maybe Blade could breathe easy again. And all would be right with the world.

“I’ll drop you off at home. You can catch some sleep, and we’ll punch in at noon.”

****

By the time Brandy reached her apartment and climbed into bed, hours had passed since the sun had dawned over Thunder Mountain. She spent another hour not sleeping as she theorized about Skip and tried to keep Blade off her mind. She barely remembered that today was her birthday.

What reason, other than the obvious, could Skip have for visiting McKee’s compound last night? She couldn’t accuse him of being part of the NNFF network until she made damn sure she wasn’t railroading him the way her mother had been railroaded.

And Blade… she’d read the anguish on his face and heard it in his voice. There’d been no way she could push him further. If Coogan was corrupt, it was going to break Blade’s heart.

Her mind swam. A Blackberry would have come in handy. Someday she’d be able to afford one. Though by that time, they’d probably be obsolete. She reached for the notepad on her nightstand and jotted down a reminder to look for any connection, say during the past ten years, between Skip and the Neo Nazi Freedom Fighters.

Debriefing herself, she tried to recall every detail she’d witnessed at the compound, making notes about the number of tents and the makeshift buildings. Coogan had driven in from the logging trail. After midnight. Four–door, unmarked sedan. One of the guards looked familiar. Resembled a guy who worked for Tonya.

An uneasy quiver shot through her stomach. The Freedom Fighters were prejudiced against all non–whites. She needed to warn Tonya. She didn’t fall asleep for another hour. When she awoke, it was past noon. She’d slept through the alarm.

After a record–fast shower, she scrunched her wet hair into a ponytail, guzzled the last of the OJ directly from the container, and ran out the door.

Eager to discuss the surveillance operation with Blade, and fighting a yawn, she arrived at work and stepped into the main office. When she looked up, she knew something was amiss.

“Surprise!”

A dozen deputies and office personnel stood in a huddle around the coffee machine. They parted to reveal a huge bouquet of flowers and a birthday cake decorated with pastel rosebuds and candles.

A lump swelled in Brandy’s throat. She hadn’t said a word to anyone about her birthday. Leave it to sheriff deputies to seek out personal data. Blade appeared in his office doorway, a sheepish grin on his face.

She’d never had a birthday party, not that she could remember. She felt suddenly awkward, almost embarrassed.

“I picked out the cake.” Todd Christiansen grabbed a lighter. “Let’s light these suckers so you can make a wish. Incidentally, if the wish involves booze and hot sex, I’m available every night this week,” he said, a smile on his face telling her he knew he had no chance of hooking up with her.

“I hope you like roses,” Blade said over Todd’s comment as he joined the group.

Brandy’s stomach twittered. It was silly to get all sissy–struck over cake and flowers. Sillier yet to let Blade affect her the way he did.

Damn, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.
Do not start bawling
. Cripes, she didn’t even cry over catastrophes, so how could she be on the verge of falling apart over a simple act of kindness?

She smiled and put on her happy face as the crew sang
Happy Birthday,
and then she blew out the candles. She pretended not to be as touched as she was and took a slice of cake, the one that had her name on it and a big confectionary rose.

After the fanfare died down, Blade motioned her into his office. She’d barely sat down when he said, “I’m meeting with Skip Coogan tomorrow. I already called him. He’s out of town today.”

“And?”

“Brandy, there’s the possibility that he may be working undercover.”

Always the optimist. But her thoughts stutter–stepped. For Blade’s sake, a part of her wanted to believe he was right about Skip. She wasn’t out to damn Coogan if he was innocent. But in her estimation, the case against him was growing. How would Blade handle it if his hero wasn’t a hero after all?

While she tried to think of something to say, Blade said, “I’ll handle it like I would any other investigation.”

“I know you will. You’re a rock solid, clean law enforcer, Blade.” She swallowed. Something akin to fear struck her. “You could be in danger.”

With a smile one step removed from sardonic, Blade shook his head. “I won’t be.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“Let’s wait until this plays out before…” He looked away.

“Of course.” She forced her insides to relax.

Thirty seconds ticked by until his expression changed. “Um… on another subject. I hope you’re not busy tonight, because I’ve made reservations for dinner.”

Brandy stared at him mutely.

“I can cancel them if…” He shrugged. The look on his face spoke to the flock of birds fluttering in her chest.

“Is this a date?”

“No. We can’t date, remember? But we can be friends. And I’m fresh out of supplies at home. This is just a convenient way to keep me from starving to death and to keep you from celebrating your birthday alone.”

It
was
a date, and all those fine–feathered canaries in her chest began to chirp with glee.

****

Blade could tell from the look on Brandy’s face that she was appropriately impressed with his choice of restaurants when they pulled up to the Thunder Mountain Lodge. He could also see thoughts spinning in her head. She would balk over the expense and would insist on splitting the bill, and he knew she couldn’t afford it.

“It’s your birthday, Brandy. This is on me, and it wouldn’t be ladylike to argue about it. Besides, you can’t disobey a direct order from your FTO.”

She laughed.

After they were seated and studied the menu, Blade said, “I think I’ll have the prime rib. Order anything you want.” He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, the epitome of femininity, wearing his favorite dress, the shiny concoction she’d worn to Skip’s honorary dinner.

“Oh, I forgot something in the car.” He pushed away from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned with the two packages, her eyes sparkled with amazement.

“What’s this? Blade, you shouldn’t—”

“It’s nothing really, but a woman’s got to have a couple of packages on her twenty–second birthday.”

“I’m not… used to getting presents.”

His heart back–flipped. Another suspicion confirmed.

“They’re wrapped so beautifully. It’s a shame to open them.” She fingered the frilly bow the clerk at the department store had attached to the foil paper. “Why two packages?”

“One’s from me and one’s from Rambo.”

She laughed and carefully slid the ribbon aside on the flat square box. The sparkle in her eyes turned his insides to mush.

He’d wanted to get her something really nice, extravagant, personal. But then he would have been a presumptuous SOB—or so she would have thought. Which, of course, would have pretty much been on target, although he was honestly trying his damnedest to control his attraction to her.

Attraction? It was so much more. She wasn’t just some fling. She was… Brandy. Someone he cared about. And that thought scared him.

So he was determined to keep things platonic.

She peeled away the paper and beamed at him. “Hot damn, how did you know I’m in love with a geezer? Bon Jovi—a four CD set.” She pulled out the song list. “I think I fell for him when I was in my mother’s womb.”

Blade laughed at the geezer reference, but his stomach twinged at
I’m in love.
“I took a wild guess because of the T–shirt you had on the other day. My other option was Gretchen Wilson’s Redneck Woman album. But I thought better of it.”

The grin she shot back tugged at his resolve. Tempting… so tempting. But breaking down her defenses was not what he’d set out to accomplish.

Platonic.

“Thank you. This is really thoughtful of you.”

“You’re welcome.” He slid the other box closer. “Rambo couldn’t make it tonight, but he sends his best.” After all his debating, even though he was stretching it, he’d decided Rambo could get away with giving her a more personal gift, one he shouldn’t.

Her hands shook as she slowly made a production of unwrapping the second package. When her fingers settled on the box beneath the delicate foil paper, Blade wished he’d brought a camera. Her eyes glistened, and she sat spellbound for a full minute, then a single teardrop rolled down her cheek. Her voice cracked. “Blade… Tendre Amour. You remembered.”

Shaking her head, she put on a determined look. “I know how much this stuff costs. I can’t—”

“You’ll have to talk to Rambo. It was totally his idea.”

“I can’t, Blade.” She rubbed her thumb over the plastic wrap that sealed the box. “I have to confess, I’ve never been able to afford—I mean, I’ve never gotten around to actually purchasing Tendre Amour. But it’s my favorite.”

He suspected she never splurged on anything expensive for herself no matter how much she wanted it.

“Happy birthday, Rookie. You deserve it.”

“But—”

“Shhh. You have to keep it or Rambo will be heartbroken.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Blade took in a whiff of oxygen, and a bubble of happiness parked beneath his rib cage.

“And how am I going to thank Rambo?”

“A few thousand grooming sessions with his favorite brush would work.”

She reached across the table and took his hand, slid her index finger over his knuckles, and touched him with her warmth. Tugging his hand, she brought his fingers to her cheek, her damp cheek.

If that didn’t prick his heart, nothing ever would. Then she uncurled his fingers and placed the softest, most sensual kiss he could imagine against his palm.

Part of him shouted,
hurray for Tendre Amour.
But, hell, this was exactly why he’d taken her to a public place for dinner. If they were anywhere more private, he would have been way too tempted to take things further, and the last thing he wanted was to make her feel like she owed him.

But he could dream. If they lived in another world and his fantasies could come true, he’d want her to make love with him for one reason and one reason only—because she was as burning hot for him as he was for her, not because she felt like she owed him.

So who was he kidding?

He knew she wanted what he wanted just as much as he did, even if neither of them could act on it. The heat was there. Blue–fire lust. It hung in the air like nitroglycerin waiting to explode. But they could never light the fuse.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I
n the car on the way home, blood pulsed through Brandy’s veins like syncopated reggae drums. When she looked over at Blade, his right hand reached for her. Her breath caught.

“This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

She felt his chest heave and heard his breath hitch.

Oh God, tonight could be the night.
Her heart fluttered. Right or wrong, she was ready and willing to fall off the face of the earth with Blade Beringer.

While Blade drove in determined silence, she focused on how the rest of the evening would play out. He’d walk her to her door. She’d ask him to see her inside to check her apartment for spooks and radical supremacists. And then she’d close and lock the door. And then…

She glanced down at the packages on her lap and picked up the perfume. The crinkle of cellophane shattered the silence as her fingers worked the box open and she pulled out the bottle. The silky glass container cooled her palm as she touched her index finger to the sprayer. The exotic mist wafted through her senses and onto the pulse point at her neck. A blend of jasmine and bergamot mixed with rose settled in her hair.

“Ummm, I love this. Thank you so much.”

Blade took his eyes off the road for a second, and they seemed to burn right through her. A growling noise escaped his throat. “I think it’s French Voodoo.”

She grinned.

Lights reflected in the rearview mirror.

Heavy gears ground. A large rig, judging from the sound that echoed across the valley, had fallen in behind them. Blade’s gaze focused on the mirror. He moved his right hand to the wheel.