The Man Behind the Badge (13 page)

‘I
THINK
you might be a bad influence,’ Kayla murmured. Beneath her ear, Tom’s heart beat a rapid tattoo that synchronised with her stuttering pulse. She lay boneless, half-sprawled across his chest, so completely exhausted and relaxed she wondered when she’d be able to move again.

Or if she’d ever want to. She smiled at the fanciful thought of staying right where she was—listening to the rhythm of a man’s heartbeat. Not just any man—specifically Tom Jamieson.

‘Bad influence? Who? Me?’ His fingers traced lazy patterns up and down her arm.

‘Yes, you.’ She inhaled his fragrance—hot, male and musky. Delicious. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt so…wicked.’ She paused. ‘I think I like it.’

‘Stick with me, honey. I’ll show you everything I know.’ Rich amusement threaded through his voice.

She brushed her hand through the dark hair on his chest, enjoying the feel of it on the sensitive skin of her palm. ‘Promise?’

His arm tightened, holding her even closer as his laughter vibrated through his torso and into her body. ‘And you were worried about being able to handle me.’

She swallowed, gathering her courage. ‘I—I think I’ll take you up on your offer if it’s still open.’

‘I’ll be happy to oblige.’ His voice rumbled under her ear in instant agreement. Her heart skipped. A small pause and then he said, ‘Which offer was that?’

She tweaked a couple of chest hairs in a light tug, feeling half foolish, half annoyed. ‘How can you say you’ll be happy to oblige if you can’t even remember what it’s about?’

‘Ouch.’ He captured her fingers and carried them to his lips. ‘Hey, if it involves you and me together, how can I lose?’

He sounded so sincere and certain. The unexpected, unconditional support caught her on the raw.

‘Nice recovery,’ she said huskily around the hot lump that had formed in her throat.

‘I thought so.’ After a small silence, he said, ‘What have I committed to?’

She took a steadying breath. ‘To being part of my Dustin rebellion.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ The warmth in his voice made her toes curl. ‘I’m at your command.’

She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. ‘You sound like you’re about to offer me three wishes.’

His fingers curled around the back of her neck. ‘Honey, you can have as many wishes as you like.’

He tugged her mouth down to his.

‘Can I have that in writing?’ she said, feeling his lips curve under hers.

He caught her lower lip gently between his teeth for a moment. ‘You’ll have to take it on trust.’

She pulled back, averting her eyes from his. His words were teasing but they instantly doused the glow that had warmed her heart.

She could feel his gaze on her profile, could sense his curiosity about her withdrawal. To distract him, and herself, she ran her hand across his flat belly, felt his sharply in-drawn breath as his muscles contracted beneath her fingertips. She traced the thin flat laparotomy scar then detoured to the nubbly little scar near his flank.

‘Tell me what happened.’

‘It was a carjacking.’ His voice was gravelly. He cleared his throat. ‘One in a series of attacks. The guy waited in railway car parks, preying on young women as they came out of the station to their cars.’

‘I think I remember,’ she said slowly, searching her memory for the details. ‘He made them drive to deserted locations then raped them and took their cars.’

‘That’s right. He was getting bolder. The violence of his attacks was escalating.’

‘He shot the off-duty policeman who stopped him.’ She looked into the steady, dark eyes watching her. ‘That was you.’

‘Yeah. I was lucky. He had a point two-two air pistol.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s lucky?’

‘Solid pellet, no fragmentation.’

‘You could still have been killed,’ she said severely, to cover the fear that cramped her stomach. How could he think about the technicalities when his life had been at stake?

‘But I wasn’t.’ He brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.

‘You’re a hero.’ A blush swept across his cheekbones, fascinating her.

He shook his head. ‘Just someone doing what they had to at the time.’

‘It’s more than a lot of people would have done. Same with the house fire this morning.’ She examined his face, feature by feature. The regular, lean, good looks hid a lion’s heart. ‘You’re a very special man.’

‘I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Kayla.’ Dark eyes glittered intently up at her as he tilted his head on the pillow and frowned. ‘But I’m not special. Cut me and I bleed. I hurt just like any other man.’

A spiral of icy discomfort twisted through her gut and she had to look away.

Regardless of his modesty, he was courageous, physically and emotionally. So open and loving and family orientated. She was none of those things—for all that she had envied her friends with close family. Was there something missing in her, some integral ingredient, that meant she had to be on the outside?

And where did that leave Tom? Would she hurt him before they were done? She had to be careful that didn’t happen. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ She smiled, feeling the stiffness of her face. ‘Hey, I promised you food.’

‘Kayla—’

She moved away to scramble off the other side of the bed. ‘Mind if I use your shower?’

‘Sure.’ He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘There’s a clean towel in the cupboard beside the door.’

‘And the bathroom?’

‘Across the passage.’

As she walked to the door, his eyes were irresistibly drawn down her trim back, the curve of her waist, over the flare of peach-shaped buttocks to long legs.

His pulse revved but he tamped down the stirrings of male interest.

Had she just run out on him?

He rolled off the bed, feeling his bruised ribs protesting the movement. Not so painless now, but he wouldn’t change a thing about the last hour. In fact, given half a chance, he was ready to do it all over again.

Perhaps in the shower…

But when he got to the bathroom, Kayla had finished. The towel wrapped around her body was secured sarong-style above her breasts and covering way too much skin…but he could work with it.

She met his eyes in the mirror. ‘All yours.’

‘Yes, please.’ He stepped behind her, pressing his mouth to her nape. Satisfaction poured through him at her shiver.

‘I didn’t mean that.’ Her throaty voice made him want to growl.

‘Maybe you should have.’ He reached out and caught the towel. ‘Kayla?’

She didn’t resist as he turned her to face him. When he bent to touch his lips to hers, she brought her hands up to frame his face. He contemplated the logistics of making love in the shower cubicle, the idea growing on him by the second.

The next moment he was free, a damp towel dangling from his hand.

‘Don’t dawdle,’ she said over her shoulder as she waltzed out the door towards his bedroom. ‘I’ll go and finish preparing the vegetables.’

On the surface, she was all beans and business but he couldn’t help wondering if it was clever camouflage for something that had upset her. He tightened his grip on the towel, tempted to follow her and pin her to the bed until he got to the bottom of whatever it was.

‘I’ll get you to turn on the barbecue plate for the steak when you come out.’ Kayla’s voice floated cheerily across the hallway.

He shook his head, telling himself he must have imagined that moment of coolness. Stepping into the shower cubicle, he reached for the taps. He washed quickly making sure he kept the dressing over his ribs as dry as possible. It was waterproof but he figured the less he disturbed it for today the better.

Back in the bedroom he pulled on a clean pair of boxers, dragged on his jeans, then padded along to the kitchen.

When he reached the archway, the domestic scene stopped him in his tracks. Without a trace of self-consciousness, Kayla was talking to a black and white cat sitting on the floor beside her.

Oh, yes, this was what he wanted, every day for the rest of his life.

This woman.

In his home.

In his heart
.

He tucked his hands in his pockets as he walked across the tiles. ‘I see Jerry’s chatting you up.’

‘His name’s Jerry? Wasn’t there a cartoon…?’ She trailed off.

‘
Tom and Jerry
. Naming him was Dad’s idea. Too many comics when he was growing up.’ She chuckled.

‘He’s not usually this friendly.’ Tom moved behind her and placed his hands on her waist, trapping her at the bench. ‘You’ve charmed all the males in this household.’

‘I think it’s much more prosaic than that. I think the males here like their chances of getting what they want.’

‘Uh-huh.’ He nuzzled into the side of her neck. ‘What are the chances?’

‘Zero until after dinner.’ She was proud of how steady her voice was given the quivers that zinged along her nerve pathways. His lips on her skin were electric. Before she could stop herself, she’d tilted her head, giving him better access to her nape. ‘M-maybe we can renegotiate then.’

His hands flexed on her hips. ‘I bet I could change your mind.’

‘No bet.’ She twisted out of his grip. In a smooth movement, she scooped up the plate that held the steaks and thrust it towards him. ‘Be useful. Go and cook. Got to keep your strength up.’

‘Good point.’ He gave her a slow, wicked smile. ‘How do you like your steak?’

‘Medium.’

She blew out a long, shaky breath as he moved away. With him safely outside, she raised a hand to her sternum. Her flesh trembled with each hard beat of her heart. Turning back to the bench, she stood staring at the vegetables. She was out of her depth but the temptation to keep trying to stay afloat with Tom was overwhelming.

‘Problem?’

She jumped, her heart lurching out of rhythm. ‘No. No problem. Are you…?’ Her mind went completely blank for a long moment. ‘Um, have you got any soy sauce?’

‘In the pantry in the corner.’

‘Great.’ She reached for the door handle. ‘I don’t suppose you have a wok?’

‘You’d be wrong. It’s in the cupboard under the sink.’ He peered under the island bench and after a moment held up a bottle. ‘Red wine?’

‘A half-glass would be nice. Thanks.’ The vegetables would only take a couple of minutes. She put the pan on a moderate heat then turned back to face Tom.

With a few expert twists of his wrist, he had the cork removed from the bottle. He moved with grace, economy and confidence. She liked watching him—more than was sensible. The sturdy wrists. Firm, well-muscled biceps, not too bulky. Forearms lightly covered with dark hair. The plain silver watch strapped above his left wrist shouldn’t have been sexy…but it was.

He set the bottle aside with the glasses to breathe. ‘I’ll go and turn the steak.’

Glad to have something to do, Kayla tipped the vegetables into the wok, stirring the heat through them.

A short time later, they were seated at the table. The same makeshift candle holders glowed in the centre of the table.

Tom poured wine into the glasses then handed her one and chinked the lip of his against hers.

‘A toast to rebellion,’ he said, smiling at her mischievously over the rim of his glass.

Her cheeks warmed.

‘To rebellion.’ She lifted her drink and took a sip.

‘I’m glad you came to check up on me tonight. Thanks,’ he said softly.

The warm gratitude in his eyes made her want to fidget. She slid the casserole dish across the table. ‘My pleasure. Help yourself before it cools down.’

Tom picked up the serving spoon, added a scoop of stir-fried vegetables to his plate and turned the conversation to more general topics. He sensed Kayla’s relief and he was rewarded when she relaxed again and opened up more. Her warm laughter rolled over him.

As he looked his fill, he reflected how well she fitted, with him, with his life.

It was much later when she pushed back her chair and picked up the plates. ‘We’d better clear up. How about I wash since I don’t know where things go?’

He liked it that she sounded as regretful as he was that there was no excuse to linger at the table.

‘Sure.’ He picked up the serving dish and glasses and followed her to the sink. ‘I’m going to my cousin’s engagement party on Saturday night. Want to come?’

‘Your cousin? Didn’t I meet him and his girlfriend at the camp draft barbecue?’

‘Jonathon and Natalie,’ he confirmed.

‘Sounds like fun. I’m working during the day but as long as everything’s under control it should be okay.’ Her voice was muffled as she rummaged under the bench. She came up with an ancient pair of dish-washing gloves he didn’t know were there. ‘I can take a change of clothes to work with me.’

‘Great.’ Congratulating himself on how well his casual approach was working, he went back to the table and snuffed out the candles. ‘What about next week?’

‘What about it?’ she said over the running water.

‘Here’s how it works.’ Back in the kitchen, he snagged a clean tea-towel from a drawer. ‘Me plus you plus relationship equals me wanting to see you as often as possible.’ With his hands busy wiping a glass, he studied her profile, trying to read her reactions. ‘Every day would be good but I can be flexible.’

‘Oh.’ She washed the steak knives and put them on the drainer. Her lips pursed. Not a good sign. ‘Next week, I’m studying because Saturday week I’m going down to Melbourne to do a course.’ She lifted a plate out of the soapy water and slotted it into the rack, then hesitated. ‘And I’ll be staying down there.’

‘You can study here.’

‘Study here?’ She glanced at him, as she stacked the second plate, her eyes filled with humour. ‘With you around? I don’t think so.’

‘I can control myself.’

‘Yes…well…maybe it’s not you I’m worried about,’ she muttered.

He threw the tea-towel on the rack and reached for her. ‘You can’t say things like that and expect to just stand there, washing dishes.’

She squeaked as he scooped her up, suds flying. Pain stabbed him in the side and he couldn’t suppress a small grimace.