A Place with Briar (Harlequin Superromance) (16 page)

He was her lover. With him lying close, warm, his fingers still entwined with hers against the turned-down sheet, she didn’t feel alone.

She felt changed. Renewed. Buoyant. Loved.

A wonderful stillness fell over her mind and she sank with him into the hazy cradle of sleep, not at all worried about tomorrow.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

B
RIAR
USUALLY
WASN
’
T
one to pull the covers over her head and ignore the light creeping through the curtains.

Sometime in the early morning hours the power had come back on. Air streamed, blessedly cool, from the vents over the bed. It kissed her skin and made her smile as she roused from sleep. For once she let the clock on her bedside tick by without remorse. Cole’s upper body was curled against her back and his arms were banded around her. And there was no way she was waking him up.

His sleeping breaths fluttered light over her ear, stirring the hair lying over the nape of her neck. The inn sounded so peaceful around them. The walls seemed to be breathing a contented sigh with the return of central cooling. The only sound she could hear was the very faint cry of seagulls returning to the battered shoreline. Other than that, she and Cole could have been alone in the world.

Not so long ago, the silence of Hanna’s had served as a reminder of all her failures. With Cole in her bed, for once it didn’t give Briar unrest, and that dependency on him no longer gave her pause.

She loved him, so very much. As the hour hand struck six and the first sliver of sunlight slanted through the curtains onto her face, she basked in the certainty that she could love again. That she did.

The telephone next to the bed broke the silence, the ring jolting them both. She ran a hand over her hair, pushing herself up onto her elbow as she reached out to lift the receiver from the cradle. Cole rolled to his back, arms raised over his head. She cleared her throat and answered, “Hanna’s Inn.”

“So, did ya get some?”

A wide grin bloomed, along with a quiet laugh. Briar pressed her lips together, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Cole was sleeping. Lowering her voice, she said, “I’m starting to think you have a one-track mind.”

“Nuh-uh,” Olivia replied. “No evasion. Just deets.”

“It’s early.”

“Like you weren’t up at the crack.”

A hand, wide and warm, slid over her hip. She closed her eyes, melting at his touch. “I have to go.”

“Second wind?”

Briar rolled her eyes. “Later.” Hanging up on Olivia’s protest, she shook her head. “Sorry. I was hoping you’d sleep awhile longer.”

“Mmm.” His hand cruised its way into the dip of her waist, right at home.

Rolling to her back, she let his fingers splay over her bare belly. She’d fallen asleep before she could think to reach for her nightgown. Her breasts met cool air, and her arm came up automatically to shield them from view.

He grunted a sleepy protest, threading his fingers through hers and tugging it down. Eyes still closed, he rubbed his whiskered cheek over them.

The rasp brought out a laughing gasp. As his stubble chafed, the peaks drew up and a long tongue of melting-pot lust swept clean through her. She wriggled away. “I have to make breakfast.”

“Mmm,” he growled again, knee rising and tugging the sheet with it. His abs looked taut even in repose and, because she knew
exactly
where it led, she forced herself to look away from the trim line of dark hair that disappeared under the covers. “Coffee?” he muttered.

“That, too,” she promised, pulling her robe over her shoulders. “Rest.” After brushing her lips across his brow, she regrettably left the sexy, sleep-rumpled man in the rumpled sheets. The tantalizing image and the pinching flush on her cheeks stayed with her as she crossed from the bedroom door to the kitchenette.

It was such a simple, everyday thing—making breakfast. But today the chore was significant. She was cooking breakfast for the man she loved. As she arranged two places at the small nook table, her eyes shifted to the windows at right and the long sweep of blue bay. The sun shined off the pinpricks of water.

Magic,
she thought. There was magic in the air this morning. The kind of magic she’d begun to doubt existed.

Cole joined her moments later, wearing the jeans from the night before and nothing else. “Coffee’s on the burner,” she greeted, trying not to stare too much.

He made a beeline for the counter and took a mug from a hook. “Smells good.”

“Breakfast is cooling,” she explained. “You have impeccable timing.”

“Mmm.” The small spoon she’d set out for stirring tinkered against the inside of his mug as he splashed in a bit of creamer. “Anybody joining us?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” she replied. “But you never know who might pop in at the last minute around here. I think it’s safe to say, though, that we’ll be dining alone today.” She glanced at him and her smile dimmed at the contemplative frown on his face. “Something wrong?”

His head lifted from the task, his lids heavy from sleep. Despite that, his dark gaze held a conflicted glint. “I’ve never been more afraid of anything than I am of hurting you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said, thrown off track by his admission. It was just like that moment on the dock when she’d first kissed him. He’d spoken of hurting her then, too. And, like now, it had been hard to discern if he was talking about what was between them in the moment or something else. “If you don’t have enough faith in yourself, know that I have it in you.”

“I’m not sure I deserve it.”

She wove her arms around him and held tight. “Then I’d say you need more convincing.” Lifting herself onto her toes, she moved into his embrace, her hands sliding around his neck as she raised her mouth to his.

She took the languid kiss deep. In reaction, he maneuvered her around until the back of her hips rested against the counter’s edge. Losing herself against him, she threaded her fingers into the hair at the back of his head.

The afterglow shimmered over her again, a gilded, silver-edged thrill that drowned out everything else. Her tongue danced in slow cadence with his. Tilting her head into his open palm, she hummed, arousal coiling sinuously up through her, blazing in all its smoldering intensity.

His groan echoed her sound of assent and he lowered his hands, flat and possessive over her shoulder blades, down into the dip of her spine. She gasped in savory delight as they moved between the counter’s edge to mold her flank. Instinctively, her hips bowed into his. The hard ridge of his excitement amplified hers until she was all but drowned by the need for reckless abandonment.

As if sensing that need, he gripped the backs of her legs and raised her onto the counter.

Dear Lord, here?
On her prepping counter?

His touch was already sliding up the skirt of her robe.
Oh, thank goodness...

He drew back abruptly, dropping his hands to the counter, trying to catch his breath. “Hell.” He lowered his head to her shoulder as he steadied himself. “I swear you make me crazy.”

Consumed by heat, she scrubbed the heel of her hand over her hammering heart.

After a moment, he lifted his face to hers. He rubbed his hands up her arms then down them before backing away. “We have to be more prepared before I can let this happen again.”

She scanned his face. Suddenly, what he’d said before began to make sense. “You don’t have to worry about being prepared.” When he frowned at her, she smiled and lowered her voice. “I’ve got that covered.”

He blinked. “Right.” Scrubbing a hand over the five o’clock shadow on his chin, he cleared his throat. “We probably should’ve talked about this before...but like I said. I lose my mind around you.”

She grinned. “I kind of like it that way.”

Warmth flooded his eyes as a smile softened the lower half of his face. He lowered his lips to hers, lingered for a moment as he inhaled then pulled back, taking her hand in his and interlocking their fingers. “I was thinking about taking a ride around town to see if anyone took any serious damage. Do you want to come with me?”

“I would love that, but there’re still things for me to do around here.” Sliding her feet back to the floor, she addressed the Danish that had cooled long enough.

“I can stay and help.”

“No, you did more than enough yesterday. But I refuse to let you go until you’ve had some breakfast.”

“Trust me. I wasn’t planning on passing that up.” As she sliced and transferred pieces onto their respective plates, he leaned over her. Though he kept his hands to himself, his sexuality shimmied along her skin.

How was she supposed to go about her day-to-day activities without taking Olivia’s advice and jumping his wicked-hot bones again...and again?

* * *

I
T
WAS
OFFICIAL
. Cole had lost his mind.

From the moment he saw Briar Browning, something in him had snapped. Self-control, maybe. Or better judgment.

His biggest fear digging into Briar’s past had been that he would lose himself. After the night he’d spent with her and the current, deluded state of his jumbled mind, it was clear that he had.

It was hard to regret what had happened between him and Briar. Sure, upon waking he’d gone into a tailspin after recalling that there’d been no protection involved. When he’d gone up to her rooms, he hadn’t expected her to seduce him—protection had been the last thing on his mind.

As he dressed in the bay-view suite for a ride into town, he sighed heavily. The half hour he’d spent under the stinging spray of the showerhead had done little to clear his mind. Despite all the damning details, he couldn’t get beyond the fact that last night had been incredible. Briar had blossomed beneath his touch like a bud already on the verge of bursting forth. He’d been helpless at her sweet urging to do anything but follow, to do as he’d wanted to do to her—with her—since the very beginning. To enfold. Covet.

He’d lost his mind, it was true. Never in his life had he lost sight of his intentions so completely, so easily. Certainly not when he fell in love the first time. Not even when he’d lost everything.

Therein lay his problem, he thought as he grabbed his helmet and keys off the dresser. He’d lost everything. His whole purpose in coming to Briar’s doorstep had been to get his life back. Now he had managed to complicate things further by damn near falling head over heels in love with Briar and forgetting that his son hung in the balance.

He wanted Gavin back in his life. Nothing had changed that. But now, in addition, he wanted Briar. Worse, he feared he wanted both in equal measure.

The two lives he could envision for himself—one with Gavin, one with Briar—could never mix, could they? In order to gain visitation rights with Gavin, he had betrayed Briar—there was no going back from that. And even if she could somehow find it in her heart to forgive him, he doubted Tiffany would. If he chose Briar, he had to give up any hope of ever being a part of Gavin’s life.

His temples pounded. The knot he’d managed to bind himself in wasn’t going to give until he thought things through. He had to get back to that place in his mind where everything made sense, where he knew exactly what needed to be done.

Where was the stone-cold detective’s instinct when he needed it? It had disappeared amidst the storm debris littering the streets.

He was going for a ride, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d cleared some of the debris from his brain. Until his thoughts weren’t a tangle of
what-ifs.
There was no way he could do his thinking here—Briar was here. And when Briar was around, he couldn’t trust himself to think about anything but wanting her. Loving her.

Halfway down the stairs to the first floor, his steps slowed. The whistle was low, a small whine that barely penetrated the silence of the bottom floor. Instinct that had gone missing teased the small hairs on the back of his neck to attention. Gripping the banister, he listened carefully. Through the open kitchen door, he saw the stove was empty. No kettle. He would have heard Briar come downstairs. She hadn’t. The floor was vacant.

He caught himself reaching for his belt where, as an officer, his gun had once rested. Slowly, silently, he crept the rest of the way down the stairs. The whistle was coming from the right, down the hall toward the entryway. Edging along the wall, he listened for the telltale sounds of intrusion—soft footsteps, faint rustling—and heard nothing but that strange whistle.

As he rounded the corner carefully into the entryway, the whistling noise drew him to the door behind the podium—the one he had broken into not long ago. He’d had to pick the lock because Briar always kept it closed and bolted. Every nerve in his body stood on end when he saw that the door was open.

Stepping across the office threshold, a slight breeze hit his face, smelling strongly of wet earth and magnolia leaves. His eyes trekked quickly over the papers strewn about the room, the open drawers and filing cabinet. Nights ago, Briar’s records had been meticulously organized. Now they were completely destroyed. Her computer had been taken, but the printer, fax machine and phone remained.

He touched his fingers to the broken windowpane, and the muscles in his jaw bunched as rage overcame him.

This was no robbery.

Knowing exactly who was behind this, he curled his fist into a ball and fought the urge to smash through the rest of the broken pane of glass.

“Cole, what are you...”

He turned just in time to see the warm smile vanish from Briar’s face. Her color vanished, too, as her face fell, distressed. Her hand fumbled for the doorjamb as she swayed. “What—what happened here?” she breathed, the words trembling out of her as she raised a hand to her mouth.

He crossed to her quickly because she looked damn near faint. “A break-in. No one’s here. I checked. But we need to call the police.”

“The police,” she muttered. Seeming to come back to herself, she shook her head hard and closed her eyes. “Yes, you’re right. The police. I’ll call them.”

Because she still looked alarmingly pale, he touched her face. “It’s all right, Briar. Everything’s going to be all right.”

As her eyes searched his wildly for answers, she nodded slowly before backtracking into the entryway.

Glancing back at the wreckage of the office, he listened to Briar’s quavering voice speak to the dispatcher. The clarity he’d been looking for from the moment he woke up in her bed was suddenly right in front of him.