h-handed he sounded. She didn’t want him in the house, fine. He’d stay on the porch. But he’d stay. He didn’t miss how Roger’s attention shifted to her, silently seeking confirmation. Some tightness seeped out of his muscles when she lifted and dropped her shoulder in a suit yourself gesture.
Roger leaned in, received a hug and kiss from his client, paused to shake hands with Shaun, and then disappeared down the steps. Stillness descended. He was still pissed as hell, but he also wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her, just to reassure them both she really was all right. The impulse didn’t mesh well with the cold front coming off her. Virginia wasn’t the silent type, though, and he doubted her ability to freeze him out forever—especially if he chipped away at her.
“Otherwise, how was the party?”
Her laugh held more sarcasm than amusement. “Otherwise, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
She pulled her keys from the bottom of her handbag and unlocked the door. “The party was great.” He followed her inside and waited while she dropped her keys, handbag and jacket on the small table just inside the entryway. “Josh and Melody are so happy together, which is all the sweeter because they really worked to get to where they are now—overcame a lot of personal obstacles—not to mention an arsonist.”
She didn’t turn to face him. He deliberated, then pulled the conversation forward. “Who’d you walk out with?”
“Nobody.” With an irritated sigh, she stomped a few steps away from him. “Don’t bother saying it, I already know. I walked out all by myself like a dumbass with a target on my back.”
He closed the gap and ran his hand over her back, down each tense muscle under the thin, cool silk of her blouse. “I didn’t say that, or think it.”
“No? Well fine, maybe it was me who thought it, but not until it was too late and Crocker was in my face telling me I had one second to put my hands where he could see them.”
The words came out in a rush and ended on a hitching breath. He took her shoulders to turn her around, but she shook him off.
“I’m tired, I’m sweaty, and I don’t want to talk about this. What I really want to do is take a shower and wash the whole god-awful night off me.”
“I’m proud of you for staying sharp even though you were frightened.”
Now she turned around, eyes flashing. “I wasn’t frightened, I was angry. Angry at myself for giving him an excuse to pull me over, angry at him for misusing his authority to intimidate and harass me, and furious when he ordered me out of my car, and”—her voice broke into a muffled sob and she didn’t resist this time when he gathered her to him—“h-he forced me up against the vehicle and slapped cuffs on me, all the while running down a list of b-bullshit charges l-longer than my arm.”
Hot tears dampened the front of his shirt. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the bathroom. “He wanted to scare you.”
“Well, it worked,” she admitted this time, not lifting her face from his chest. “There was nobody around, and nowhere to run, and…and…nothing I could do…”
He set her on the bathroom counter, took her face in his hands and tipped her head up until their eyes met. “Shh. You did everything right,” he said softly, and brushed her hair back from her tear-drenched cheeks. “You handled yourself perfectly.” He punctuated the assurance with a quick, hard kiss that ended up a little more desperate than he intended. Go slow, he reminded himself. Be gentle. “But next time…” He held her face when she groaned and tried to look away. “Next time you so much as see a flashing light in your rearview mirror, the first thing you do, Virginia, is call me, understand?”
“I can’t—”
He didn’t let her finish, simply brought his mouth down on hers and swept the objection away with his tongue—and all his slow, gentle impulses crumbled to dust under the weight of his frustration. Spending hours simmering in his own worry before getting flash-fired by a hot blast of jealousy did nothing good for his control. “When you need someone, damn it, you call me. I’m done being your dirty little secret.”
As soon as the words were out, a boulder rolled off his chest, and he almost staggered from the disorienting sense of weightlessness. He quickly reeled himself in. He might not have his shit completely together, but he had this one thing figured out. He wanted her. He was falling in love with her, and keeping their relationship under the covers wasn’t an option anymore. “I’m the one. Understand?”
Slender arms locked around his head. “I need you now,” she whispered and pulled him into another kiss. She was side-stepping his request—hell, demand—but her sob flowed into his mouth and tore at him. He took it. Absorbed it. Devoured it. At the same time, he pulled off her clothes until he found the flesh-and-blood woman beneath. His fingers trailed over smooth, pale skin and she shivered despite the heat.
Her energy, the power of her personality, made it easy to forget how small she really was, but tonight he took in her slim shoulders, delicate frame, and wondered at the weight she carried around so effortlessly—people’s problems, including his own, expectations, including the ones she heaped on herself, a desire to bring about positive change. And for all her trouble, payback tonight had taken the form of a targeted incident designed to hurt her reputation and leave her feeling helpless and afraid. Crocker hadn’t succeeded, thankfully, but her tear-streaked cheeks offered a gut-twisting indication he hadn’t completely failed either.
She shivered again and wrapped her arms around herself.
He opened the shower door, turned the water on and let it run until steam filled the small, tile enclosure. “Come here.” He put her under the spray, admiring how the water turned her hair to liquid fire. She sighed and unfolded like a flower bathed in sunlight. He pulled off his clothes and shouldered his way into the tiny cubicle with her, moving carefully as he backed her up against the tile wall. The sight of water running over her skin, beading at the tips of her tight, up-tilted nipples, rolling in thin rivulets down her flat stomach and into the tidy landing strip of curls between her legs sent his needs surging. He silently reminded himself his purpose tonight centered around seeing to her needs—her need to feel safe, protected and taken care of for once, instead of attending to others.
With that in mind, he poured shampoo into his palm. “Turn around.”
Big, tear-bruised eyes stared up at him, confused. “You’re going to shampoo my hair?”
“For starters.” There wasn’t a lot of room, but he managed to turn her around, and, keeping his elbows in, worked the shampoo into her hair. He moved his fingertips in slow, steady circles over her scalp. After a moment she sighed and let her head fall back.
“Feels good?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
To him, too. When the lather slid down her back, his hands followed suit, massaging the long muscles on either side of her spine while the fragrant suds streamed down the gracefully curved center line. He moved his hands lower, keeping up with the lather. She shivered yet again, but this time he welcomed the reaction, because he knew it had nothing to do with fear or exhaustion, and everything to do with pleasure. He wanted to kiss his way down the same wet trail, but there was no way to manage it in the tight confines of the shower. Still, he used his hands to coax a few more shivers from her, and then brought his mouth close to her ear. “Face me.”