Line of Fire (9 page)

Just as he got finished, the oven beeped to signal it was hot, and he slid in the dish. “Okay, thirty minutes. How about we take the chips and salsa into the living room—unless you don’t like having food in there?”

“Are you kidding? What’s a good movie without munchies?”

“Good deal.”

He grabbed the stuff, including a DVD case, and followed her into the living room, eyeing the flowers Forrest brought. She moved the heavy vase to the farthest end table practically hidden in a corner, then got the player ready and squinted at the case.

“What did you bring?”

“This romantic comedy with Sandra Bullock that came out last year. It’s supposed to be funny. Plus, she’s really hot.” He waggled his brows.

“And here I thought you were a romantic, and you’re actually lusting after another woman,” she teased, taking the disk from him.

“Busted. But if it’s any consolation, the guy who plays her love interest isn’t too bad. Not that I’d know, but Mom has a crush on him.”

She put in the movie and got it started. When she turned, Tommy was sprawled on her couch. He lifted an arm in an invitation she was powerless to refuse. She sat next to him and he put the arm around her, snuggled her close. She burrowed in, resting her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Her palm skimmed across his stomach and snaked around his waist.

He was solid. So right. She forgot all about the munchies and reveled in being with him like this, hardly aware of the movie or the delicious aroma from the kitchen, until the timer dinged on the oven. He hadn’t seemed to want to move, either, which suited her just fine.

“Guess I’d better check on dinner,” he said, stretching. “You stay right here.”

“I need to show you where I keep the plates and silverware.”

“Nope, stay put and I’ll find it.”

“No arguments from me. I think I like being queen for a night.” She sat up, disentangling herself from him.

“More than one night if I get my way.” He shot her a smoldering look as he rose and headed to the kitchen.

But not before she caught a gander at the bulge in his jeans. Proof that he wasn’t the only one affected by them being wrapped around each other.

She heard the oven open and close, utensils rattling. He wasn’t gone long, and he returned carrying two plates piled with the steaming dish. The mouthwatering sight of the food made her temporarily put on hold her hunger for the equally delicious man serving it.

He set the plates and forks on the coffee table, opened the jar of salsa, and gave her a nervous smile. “Ladies first.”

She’d heard the jokes about his cooking and knew that the great aroma didn’t mean it tasted okay. No matter what, she’d eat the meal he’d prepared. The last thing she’d do was hurt his feelings.

“Okay, here goes.” She lifted a forkful and took a bite. “Oh, Tommy, this is really good!”

He blinked at her. “You think so? Really?”

“I mean it, this is wonderful,” she said honestly. “You cook like this often and you’ll make me fat.”

“Awesome! I mean not that you’d get fat, because you won’t, but because I did it,” he said, obviously proud of himself. “My mom didn’t help me that much and I managed to make something you like.”

“You’d better believe I do. And now that I know how handy you are in the kitchen, look out.” Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. “I’ll have you chained in there as my slave labor.”

“Chain me anywhere you want, baby.”

She flushed at the suggestion in his tone and looked away, concentrating on her casserole. The movie was lost on her by now, but she didn’t mind. She spent her time savoring dinner and reveling in his nearness, amazed that she could be alone in her apartment with any man for an extended period of time without the old sense of discomfort. Tension. Sometimes fear.

But never with Tommy. Not in the physical way, at least, because she knew he’d never hurt her. No, her struggle was more with herself these days. Learning to trust her own judgment again wasn’t easy.

Shea cleaned her plate and Tommy went for seconds. When he was finished, he took the remains of dinner and put the dishes in the sink.

“I’ll clean this up later,” he said.

“I’ll help you. Let’s not worry about it for now. I’m feeling lazy.”

He sat beside her and reached out, cupping her chin. “How lazy?”

His voice, smoky with promise, set her blood on fire. She wanted him so much, was tired of denying herself real pleasure with a man she burned to have in her bed.

Dare she take the ultimate risk?

“Only lazy when it comes to cleaning the kitchen, which is a job I hate. Being with you is a different story,” she said softly, running the pads of her fingers over his sensual mouth.

He closed his eyes as though drinking in her touch. “How so?”

“Remember when you said you’ve never cared enough to wait?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, I’ve never cared enough to spend all day dreaming about what it would be like to just let go,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck. His groan answered her question before she asked. “Do you want me? Because I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

“Oh, God. Tell me I haven’t died and gone to heaven.”

9

Tommy leaned into her, cupping the back of her head, his mouth hot. Demanding. Shea arched into him and skimmed her hands over his shoulders, nipples hardening against his wide chest through the fabric of her blouse.

Oh. Oh, my.

Stolen kisses were no longer enough. Not with this man. She wanted everything he was willing to give. Truth be told, she always had, no matter how much learning to trust again terrified her.

He pulled back, searching her face. Desire laced his deep, husky voice. “Are you sure?”

She traced a finger along his lower lip. “Oh, yeah.”

Giving her a lopsided smile, he stood, scooping her into his arms in one smooth motion. She laughed, reached up to stroke his face, happiness blooming in her heart and spreading to her toes. Other places, too.

In her bedroom, he placed her gently on her bed, then straightened. His pale blue gaze never leaving hers, he shed his shirt and slid his jeans off along with his boxer briefs, kicking them away. Shea drank in the sight of his naked body like a woman dying of thirst. Clothed, he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. Wearing nothing except a grin, the man was a pagan god.

Lord, she’d waited forever to see him. All of him. She studied his startling crystal eyes set in the planes of a handsome, angular face, thick blond hair framing it and brushing his neck. Probably a bit longer than the fire department would like, but she loved it and wouldn’t change a thing.

She let her gaze drift leisurely to his broad shoulders and strong arms. He wasn’t ripped, but perfectly formed of lean muscle and raw bone. Graceful as a jungle cat. A very light sprinkling of hair, a shade darker than on his head, covered his chest, trailing downward in a vee past flat, hard male nipples.

Finally, she allowed her attention to roam to his impressive erection, savoring the sight. Heat flamed low in her belly, between her legs, as she stared at his engorged cock jutting proudly from a nest of dark blond curls. The feeling was so miraculous she could have cried for joy, frigid as her body had been during her few encounters in the years since—

No. No place for sadness here. Only goodness.

“Like what you see?” His smile told her he knew the answer.

“I want to touch you.”

His eyes went dark, feral. “You’re overdressed, baby. All’s fair.”

Hands shaking, Shea pulled her tank top over her head and pitched it to the floor. What would he think of her body? Would he be pleased? Those were frightening questions she hadn’t considered in ten years, because she hadn’t given a damn what her lovers thought. How had she survived the utter coldness inside?

Next went her bra, but as she reached for the button of her shorts, he laid a hand on her arm.

“Oh, no, you don’t. My turn.” He climbed onto the bed to sit next to her. He undid her shorts, slid them slowly past her hips, down her legs, and off. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Shea’s face heated, though the compliment pleased her to no end. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying that.”

He stroked her belly, making her quiver. “But you will get used to it, I promise.”

“You’re pretty darned gorgeous yourself.”

Fascinated, Shea reached out to touch the broad head of his cock, swirling it with one finger as a drop of precum beaded the tip. Encouraged by his sharp intake of breath, she became bolder in her exploration, wrapping her hand around the base.

“Yes.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, spread his long legs to encourage her journey.

She pumped him slowly, enjoying the texture of silky, baby-smooth skin over steel. Next, she moved her hand to cradle his testicles, familiarizing herself with the feel of his heavy sex. Marveling that such a powerful man could be reduced to jelly with a caress.

“Sweetheart,” he gasped, removing her hand. “I’m not going to last.”

“So don’t.”

“I want this to be good for you, baby.” He stroked her cheek, some unfathomable emotion etched on his face.

“It will be. Love me, Tommy.”

He lowered her onto the pillows and stretched his big body over hers, settling between her legs. His erection pulsed against her belly as he captured her lips in a sizzling kiss, tongue licking into the seam of her mouth. Teasing, tasting.

He broke the kiss, moved lower, repeating his attentions on her breasts. “Perfect. So perfect . . .”

His teeth grazed one nipple, tongue doing delightful things to the hardened little pebble. Sending wonderful shocks to every nerve ending. When he suckled the other nipple, she came undone, pulling at his shoulders.

“Tommy! I need you inside me.”

“Patience, baby.”

When he moved off the bed, she frowned in puzzlement. Bending, he picked up his shorts, fished in the pocket, and removed a condom. Even before coming over this afternoon, he’d considered her protection. Instead of being put off by the idea that he might’ve believed he was going to “get lucky,” she was touched. This wasn’t just any guy.

This was the man she was quickly falling for, head over heels.

He returned to the bed, laid the square packet aside, pushed her legs apart, and knelt between them, devouring the sight of her spread before him. Instead of feeling scared, she felt cherished. Liberated. He slid a hand between her thighs, fingers brushing the dark curls there. Carefully, he parted the lips of her sex and pushed one finger inside her, stroking in and out, smearing the dewy wetness to prepare her. Lengthening the strokes, he rubbed her clit, setting her body ablaze.

Too long since she’d felt so alive.

“Now, please!”

“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like, and I’ll stop. Okay?”

The heartfelt words melted the last of her trepidation, if there had been any left. “Don’t worry. I will. But I doubt that’ll happen.”

Quickly, he tore open the package with his teeth and sheathed his erection. Covering her body with his, he guided the head to her opening and began to push inside. The stretch burned a little and she must’ve made some involuntary sound because he froze, expression worried.

“Am I hurting you? I’ll stop—”

“Don’t you dare! I’m . . . it’s just been so long.”

His face relaxed. “I’ll go easy, angel.”

He did, pushing deeper by inches, letting her adjust to him. His concern brought a rush of tears to her eyes. The slight discomfort became a flame burning brighter and pleasure unfurled. A sense of freedom and completion she’d never known with any other man. She wrapped her arms around him, skimming her hands over the muscles in his back as he seated himself as fully as possible.

“Feel me?” he whispered into her hair.

“Yes.” She raised her hips, urging him on.

He began to move, long, tantalizing strokes. “You’re mine, honey.”

“Oh, Tommy, yes!”

He held her against his chest, made sweet, beautiful love to her. Sheltered her in the safety of his arms, his body covering her like a warm blanket. She’d come home. This wasn’t just sex with a gorgeous man, but she hesitated to say the words.

His tempo quickened, his thrusts filling her harder. Deeper. Faster. But even as he drove into her, taking them to the edge, he was careful not to hurt her, protecting her while moving with powerful strokes. Hurtling them higher, higher—

His release erupted, his big frame shaking. She followed, the orgasm shattering her control, the waves pounding her senses. He shuddered again and again, until he lowered his forehead to hers, spent and breathing hard.

She lay unmoving, loving his weight on top of her, his musky male scent teasing her nose—the scent of them mingled together, so right.

Shea wanted to say the words. Longed to hear them returned. She came very, very close to blurting the truth, but years of caution and a healthy dose of reality held her back. Now wasn’t the time, when this change in the relationship was so new.

Even though it was a damned fine change.

Thinking of his manly growl a few moments ago made her smile. You’re mine.

One-hundred-percent pure, satisfied man. Not exactly a declaration of undying love, but her heart thrilled at the memory. Those words had come from the depths of his soul, and she cherished them.

For now, that would have to be enough.

“Stay with me,” she said, eyes closing.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Sleep, baby.”

As Tommy rolled to his back and settled her head on his chest, she did.

Bright and early Monday morning, Joseph awoke to the tell-tale noise of his grandson moving about in the kitchen.

About time. Since the other night, the boy had been as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Hadn’t left the house but once, and only for a run to the grocery store.

Not enough time for Joseph to take a look-see at what Will might be up to. It was like the boy was afraid to let his old grandpa out of his sight, afraid he might’ve seen something important the other night. Which he had.

Will’s cell phone had been conspicuously absent as well, and Joseph cursed himself for mentioning how often it rang. He’d like to take another look at the received calls, jot down the numbers.

“What a paranoid old bastard you are,” he muttered, sitting up on the side of the bed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, spying on that boy.”

Except he wasn’t. He’d been on this earth a helluva long time and his instincts hadn’t failed him yet. There was a fox in the henhouse someplace, and he’d damn well smoke it out whether Will wanted him to or not.

Speaking of smoke, he smelled something good.

Pushing out of bed with a pained grunt, he scratched his balls and reached for his pants on the end of the bed. He pulled them on and shuffled out of his room without bothering to check himself in the mirror. Wasn’t much on his shriveled frame worth looking at anyhow.

In the kitchen, Will stood at the stove, flipping bacon, dressed for the day in a pair of worn jeans and a button-up shirt. Joseph paused, struck as always by what a handsome young man his grandson had sprouted into. Despite being a smidge on the thin side, Will had inherited the tall, solid frame of Joseph’s ancestors. He had a square face and strong jaw minus the bulbous nose of the Hensley men, thank God, and a wealth of dark brown hair that drove the women wild.

Too bad the boy couldn’t care less.

“Smells good,” Joseph said by way of greeting. “Got enough there for me?”

Will turned, flashing him a wan smile. “Always. Toast?” “And apple butter.” He sat at the table, bones creaking, and wondered when the hell he’d gotten old. The decades had a way of sneaking up on a man.

“You’re too predictable, old man,” Will said with undisguised affection.

“Huh. When you get as old as me, you’ll have earned the right to be predictable. Surprises don’t necessarily agree with a body that’s been around as long as mine.” He sent his grandson a meaningful look. “Know what I mean?”

Will faltered under his gaze. “I . . . sure, Grandpa. I’ll get your coffee.”

The younger man opened a cabinet and removed a mug. As he poured the brew, his hand shook, splashing some onto the counter. He replaced the pot on the burner, mopped up the spill with a dishrag, and brought the mug over, setting it in front of Joseph.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you, boy.” He blew on the surface, took a sip. “Good and strong, like always.”

“You’re welcome.”

Will went back to tending breakfast, fishing the bacon from the skillet and starting the toast. He put the bacon and apple butter on the table, then fetched the plates and forks, setting the table. Finally, he sat down opposite Joseph, swiping his forehead with a sigh.

“No eggs for yourself?” Joseph liked eggs, but his stomach didn’t. No reason why Will shouldn’t enjoy them, though.

“Not today. You want a ride down to the senior center when I leave? I can pick you up at lunch and bring you home.”

Joseph put a couple of slices of bacon on his plate “No, thanks. I think I’ll just hang around here and watch TV. Been meanin’ to get to that birdhouse I’m making for Miss Margaret, too. Might take you up on the offer tomorrow.”

He hated lying, even for a good reason.

“Whatever you want. If you need me, call me on my cell phone.” Will’s mouth tightened and he dug in to the bacon. “Remembered it this morning, so it won’t bother you.”

“Good to know.” Son of a bitch.

They finished their breakfast in uneasy silence. Secrets simmering along underneath the surface of politeness tended to be cancerous. Especially with his grandson sitting over there sweating, wondering what Grandpa knew. Joseph snorted, almost tempted to lay the cards on the table. He could tell Will what he knew, call him out. The boy might get flustered enough to spill what was going on . . . but most likely he’d die before admitting to a thing.

He was a lot like his grandpa in that regard.

In the end, Joseph simply bided his time while Will cleaned his plate. The boy cleared the table and put their dishes in the dishwasher, then grabbed his keys.

“Need anything before I go, Grandpa?”

“No, Will. You go on ahead and be the big-city building inspector while I lay here like an old rug.” He regretted his teasing when Will’s expression crumpled, filled with dismay. “Shit on a shingle, I’m kidding, boy. I put in my time, worked my ass off for over fifty years, so I’m due for some rest, don’t ya think?”

Will laughed, the sound strained. “Damn, don’t do that to me. I hate leaving you here alone all day; you know that.”

“I’m far from helpless, so don’t you fret. Now get going before I boot your skinny butt out the door, and don’t think I can’t still do it.”

“All right, I’m going. Take your medicine.”

“Out!”

“Crotchety old fart.”

There was no real annoyance in Will’s tone, however. He simply chuckled and let himself out, trotted across the porch and down the steps to the sidewalk, footsteps fading.

Joseph listened as Will’s white truck, one of the city’s vehicles, started and backed out of the drive. He didn’t move from the table until the rumble of the truck’s engine could no longer be heard.

Even then he didn’t move too fast, and it had little to do with his age and physical infirmity. More like dread sitting like a stone in his gut.