Bad Girl Bill (Atlantic Divide) (7 page)

Disgusted with herself, she turned away grabbed eggs out of the fridge and started to make French toast.

*

Michael walked in with Ralph and Bruno padding quietly behind him. He watched her quick, deft movements as she prepared breakfast, and his heart thudded loud and regular against his rib cage. His thoughts centered on the woman in front of him. Once again he felt a slow buildup of desire stir. He didn’t try to force it down this time, didn’t want to quash it, he wanted to see where it might take him—and her.

He’d wanted to get her on her own ever since he’d met her, but it had proved impossible. It seemed her brothers and cousins conspired to protect her for some stupid reason. He suspected she didn’t need protecting.

Every time she caught him watching her, a pretty blush would appear on her high cheekbones, and she would look away in confusion, as though she didn’t quite know what to say to him. Her reaction confused him too. One minute she was loud and confident, the next she looked as though she wanted to run and hide.

He’d gotten her on her own now, though. She couldn’t hide this time.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I thought it was your day off. I was going to see if you wanted to go for that run we spoke about, but I see you have your uniform on.”

“Yeah, something came up late last night.”

“The guy with the shotgun. Jack mentioned him, but I didn’t know you would be going in.”

“That’s my job.” She nodded in the direction of the coffeemaker. “Help yourself to more coffee.”

He wandered over, poured them both a mug, dumped milk in his, and sugar in hers and then sat at the kitchen table expectantly.

She slid a plate in front of him.

“French toast.”

“Cheers.”

She placed brown sugar, maple syrup, sprinkles, and cinnamon on the table. He felt his heart start to race at the thought of the sugar rush she was trying to invoke that might just kill him.

“If you’ve got tomato sauce—that would be good.”

She slapped it on the table in front of him and sat down to her own French toast, delicately sprinkling on brown sugar and cinnamon.

“Too much sugar. You’re going to send yourself into a coma.” He nodded at her plate. She ignored him and ate.

He hadn’t realized he was hungry and made short work of cleaning his own plate as they ate in silence. He put his knife and fork neatly alongside each other, offsetting them slightly to the right. She gave him an uncertain smile as he stared at her. His heart rate wasn’t as slow and steady as it should have been—perhaps the sugar rush wasn’t needed.

“You know I had the idea that I was going to get you naked after we’d had a run. We would have been all hot and sweaty, and I could have helped you strip.”

The smile froze on her face. She stopped chewing the French toast as she gaped back at him. Taking a slug of coffee she swallowed hard.

“Jesus, Michael, you shouldn’t say things like that to me.”

Frowning at her, he pulled at his lip with his teeth. She puzzled the life out of him with her reactions. They never seemed quite right, as though she considered his advances wrong. She wanted him. He could tell. But every time he made a move, she backed off, like she was scared or confused.

“Why not?”

She leaned across and slid two more slices of French toast covered with brown sugar and cinnamon off her plate onto his.

“Well, for a start, we’re having breakfast.”

Her weak smile made him circle round. Maybe she didn’t like the direct approach. Maybe he needed to be a little more subtle. After all he’d made it perfectly clear he wanted to sleep with her. He kept getting told she wasn’t what she seemed.

“Second, I’m in uniform and almost on duty. It’s just not right to make those kind of suggestions to a uniformed officer.” He noticed the cautious glances she kept flicking toward the kitchen window and then back up at him. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, stood up, and scraped his chair back from the table.

“Thank you.” He heard the snappishness in his own voice as he stacked the plates and impatiently dumped them in the sink as he started to fill it with water. Perhaps he should leave. She was going to drive him crazy.

“Not too much sugar?” He smiled tightly as it occurred to him that she couldn’t resist a little dig. She topped off his coffee, and then stood looking out the window while she sipped from her own cup.

He stepped up behind her, and she turned round to face him, eyes wide.

“Go on then, I’ll let you.” He stood stock-still in front of her.

“I beg your pardon? You’ll let me what?” Her Southern drawl became stronger the closer he stood. His mouth quirked. He’d noticed her accent. He also noticed the slight huskiness to her voice, the way she swallowed more than normal, the nearer he stood, the way she sometimes gave a small, embarrassed cough before she replied.

He moved closer, almost treading on her toes. She didn’t back off, Instead she automatically adjusted her feet so they fit in between his. As he leaned in, he rested his hands on the kitchen counter either side of her hips.

“You can kiss me if you want.” Her eyes widened further, and she blinked rapidly. He almost laughed at her reaction. It was as though she were genuinely surprised.

“Now why would I want to do that?” He took the coffee cup from her limp hand and placed it on the counter behind her. He leaned in, closer, and his mouth hovered over hers.

She raised that same hand up to his chest, rested it there. He felt the heat of it emanate through her palm, spread through his body like wildfire. She didn’t try to push him away, she didn’t look like she was capable of moving.

“Because you wanted to from the very first moment you saw me, because you watch me all the time, and you can’t disguise the lust in your eyes, because we’re going to be good together,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff vocalizing his own desire.

He knew she could deny it, but it was the truth. Her eyes dipped to his still-smiling mouth and her tongue came out to touch her top lip, and then nipped back into her mouth as though she realized what she had done. The smile dropped from his face and giving a small groan he took the lead and touched his lips to hers.

Her eyes were still wide, looking into his as he gently persuaded her lips open, testing, tasting as he deepened the kiss. As he slid his tongue in to her mouth to investigate, he watched her eyes slowly close with pleasure and it sent his senses into overdrive.

*

She could smell his clean scent, subtle aftershave, and masculine warmth. The same smell she had had in her house these last few days…the smell of the man she had yearned for.

Curious, she touched his freshly shaven jaw, his cheek, trailed her fingers up around his ear and on to cup the back of his head while his mouth devoured hers. She drew him in closer, her tongue shyly touched his. Her knees weakened as he groaned. Sweet white fog engulfed her mind as he enticed her with his inviting lips to deepen the kiss. Warmth spread through her belly as he hauled her into his embrace, crushing her breasts against his chest. Heat shot through her loins while his hips pinned her against the kitchen counter, and she squirmed rhythmically against him.

She gulped in oxygen as his mouth left hers to ravage his way down her neck to the erratic pulse pounding at the base of her throat. She lifted her arms and clung onto his shoulders as her knees turned to water, and she tried to stop herself from simply sliding to the floor in a molten puddle. His hand slid up her rib cage to cup her small breast. The heat of his palm soaked through her shirt and bra as his mouth sucked on her neck. He unbuttoned her shirt, his lips returned to hers, and he slipped his hand inside her bra, cupping her. He squeezed her stiffened nipple.

Her knees gave out. She gasped into his mouth, scorching heat flooded her loins, but he held her firm against the kitchen counter, one hand caressed her breast, the other slipped the button and zipper undone on her baggy trousers. His mouth devoured hers as he slid his fingers down her belly.

And Jack burst in through the kitchen doorway.

“Whoa…Jesus, sorry guys.”

They leaped apart and stood staring at each other, panting, as Jack turned on his heel and hightailed it back out of the kitchen.

“Bugger it. Will there ever be a time when we don’t get interrupted?” Michael growled, shoving his hair back from his forehead. Frustration radiated off him in waves.

Her fingers fumbled as heat scorched her cheeks.

“I have to go.” She rushed to fasten her buttons, but her fingers shook.

“Don’t…stay.” He moved in again, his voice a husky invitation. She lifted her shaking hands to ward him off, her breath heaved through her chest, and every instinct told her to run.

“I can’t, I’m working…I’m sorry, this is stupid…I don’t even really know you.”

He stepped back, his eyes narrowed, his mouth tightened. She couldn’t tell if his face was flushed with passion or anger. She soon found out.

“It was just a kiss, Bill. I think we know each other well enough for that. I want to take you to bed, not marry you.” Irritation vibrated off him. She felt the hard, fast slap of it.

She blew out a breath, took another one in. Her fingers stopped fumbling and she finished buttoning her shirt. She realized she was far more comfortable dealing with his fury than his desire. She dealt with quick tempers every day.

She yanked up her zipper and fastened the button on her trousers, smiled quick and feral and felt her nose wrinkle slightly as she pulled back her lips and snarled.

“Well, tiger, I never asked for a marriage proposal, but I swear if Jack hadn’t walked in, you would have been in my panties and had me up against the kitchen counter. We wouldn’t have made it to bed.” She hauled in a breath, filling her lungs just to prove to herself she could still breathe.

She gave him a solid shove so he took a hasty step back.

“Don’t blame me if you got carried away, tiger. I told you I was just about to go on duty.” She narrowed her eyes at him and shoved again. He fell back another step, holding his arms out wide to indicate she was free to go.

For the hell of it, she gave him another push. This time his body didn’t budge, but she had enough space to sidle around him.

“Playtime’s over, tiger. I’m going to work.” She patted his cheek sharply and slid past him before he could react. She glanced back as she walked out the door, his jaw was clenched, his aqua eyes cold as ice.

* * * *

Jack leaned on the police Land Cruiser when she stalked out the door. She jumped down the steps thinking the very devil himself was behind her.

“What’s going on?” Jack demanded as he straightened away from the vehicle.

“Nothing…Nothing’s going on. I’ll drive.” She held out her hand for the keys.

“You sure as hell won’t, sugar, not in that mood you’re not.” He slipped into the driver’s seat and waited for her to buckle up before he drove away, letting the dirt spit up as the wheels spun.

“Don’t call me sugar, Jack.” She scowled “It’s condescending—you’ve never been that to me. Don’t start now.” He flicked her sideways look, rolled his eyes, and huffed.

“Okay, but you’re more than just my cousin, Bill. You’re my little sister, and I’m not sure you know what you’re doing getting involved with Michael like that.” He tugged at his hair in frustration and embarrassment. “He’s too…umm…worldly for you. I know you rough it with the boys, you know what’s what, but I don’t think Michael falls into the category of men you normally deal with. He’s not going to be fooled by your bad-ass attitude, and I don’t think he’ll let you manipulate him.”

“I’m not trying to manipulate him, nor am I involved with him. It was just a kiss for Christ’s sake, one goddamned kiss. It’s not like I want to marry him.” She repeated Michael’s words. She slapped back into her seat, rubbed her thighs.

“He hadn’t stayed the night, then? ’Cause that’s the impression I got.”

“No, he’d just arrived! We had breakfast. He came over to see if I wanted to go for a run.” She folded her arms across her chest, hunkered down in the seat, and stared out the side window. Jesus, she’d never felt so childish. Conversation over!

“Well. It didn’t look like you were running to me. In fact I saw a wet handprint on your ass as you got in the car. It’s too big to be yours.” Jack ignored her warning look and body language. After all, he probably considered changing her diapers when she was little gave him the right to have his say. Her temper notched down a little as she realized how much he loved her.

“Seems to me you’re all grown up now. I just hope to God I don’t have to whip my brother-in-law’s ass before all this is through.” He pulled out onto the highway and ignored her snorting laugh as he concentrated on his driving.

She relaxed as she contemplated Jack whipping Michael’s smaller, leaner frame. The idea quite appealed.

Cody Forrester was where his mama said he would be. She’d been too frightened to enter his bedroom, so he lay fast asleep on his bed in the early morning with the shotgun he’d used for the robbery leaning against the wall beside him. His pudgy arms and legs draped over the side of his single bed and dangled almost to the floor. His fat belly protruded out of his gray, sweat-stained vest.

Jack drew his weapon and nodded in Bill’s direction.

She could smell Cody’s body odor from across the room, and her stomach rebelled the closer she got. She approached the bed, and silent as possible, slid her handcuffs from her belt, and leaned over to cuff him.

Her face was within inches of his when his drug-crazed eyes popped wide open and stared back into her surprised ones. Both his ham-sized fists shot out; she felt the sting of his left one as it smacked her high on her right cheekbone. His other fist slammed her under her chin. Her jaw snapped together, and she felt a sickening crunch as her teeth bit through her cheek, filling her mouth with the metallic taste of blood. Cody grabbed her by the shirt and launched her body across the room. She hit the ground and skidded several feet on her ass across the bare floorboards. Pain shot through her shoulder blade as it connected with Jack’s size-thirteen boot.