A Case of Love (5 page)

[Back to Table of Contents]

It took another couple of hours and about ten phone calls to get all the information she wanted on the fire. She talked to her contacts down at city hall and called in a favor, but she finally had everything she needed. The fire was arson and was connected by signature to six other arsons in the greater Monroe City area.

The buildings were all apartment complexes, every one full of families, innocent people who lost everything they owned because of a psycho's addiction to playing with matches. Kenzie felt revolted, that any one person could get a thrill out of the mass destruction of properties and lives.

She wrote her piece, trying to stay centered and not let any of her emotional conflict involve itself in the story. It was hard, but after editing once more, she sent it on to Ron, thanking him for coming to the hospital as well.

By the time she was finished, she was overly tired and feeling a little punch drunk. She'd almost died today. Just thinking about it had the smell of smoke choking her, the heat of the fire pressing in against her. Her hand went to her mouth, her fingers trembling as she slid down against her sofa. “Oh God,” she groaned.

With a sigh, she reached out for the phone, grabbed her purse and pulled out the small card in the front pocket. Dialing the number, she wrapped her arm around herself, holding on tight.

The phone rang, then rang again, she'd just about given up when she heard his voice on the other end.

"Hello."

He sounded husky, sleepy, as if she'd woken him. She glanced at the clock, surprised to see how much time had passed since she'd sat down to write her story.

"Hello?"

"Oh, uh, hi. I'm sorry if I woke you,” she said in a rush, feeling foolish.

"Mac?” Gideon's voice sounded surprised.

"Yeah, I uh, dammit, I'm sorry, this was stupid. I'm sorry I woke you,” she repeated.

"Mac, don't hang up. What's wrong?"

"It's foolish,” she said, sighing. “I...I was..."

"...having flash backs of today?” he asked, guessing the problem.

"Yes,” she said, her tone surprised. “How did you know?"

"It was a scary event, Mac; you'd be a pretty cold person not to have suffered any kind of trauma."

Kenzie sighed. “It's driving me crazy. I think about it and it's almost like I'm still there, still feeling the heat and choking on the smoke.” A sob caught in her throat and she swallowed, trying to hide the sound from him.

"I'm coming over there,” he said.

She heard the sound of rustling, as if he were throwing aside a sheet and blanket. “Y...you don't have to do that. It's late, Gideon. I...I'll be fine."

There was silence on the line for a moment and then his voice came back, sounding even huskier than before. “I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said and then she heard the click of the call being disconnected and then the sound of her dial tone.

Kenzie stared at the phone then glanced around at the disaster her apartment was in. “Oh shit,” she hissed, dropping the phone and rushed around to clean up. Clothes were thrown in her closet, her coffee cups and the coffee pot hurriedly washed and then the blanket she'd used folded. She'd just collapsed back on the couch when he knocked on the door.

Going to the door, she peeked out her peephole, and saw him standing there. His hair was tousled around his head, as if he'd just run his fingers through it when he woke. He was dressed in jeans and a wrinkled tee shirt. There was more than a hint of stubble on his cheeks, giving him a dark and dangerous look.

"Mac, let me in,” he called through the door.

She slowly unlocked the four locks on her door, slipping the chain off and finally opening the door for him. He walked in, his eyes roaming over her body, finally stopping at her eyes. There was fear in those beautiful amber orbs, fear and maybe a little panic as well. He waited until she'd locked the door behind him and then pulled her into his arms.

"It's okay, Mac,” he whispered against her hair, his hands running up and down, soothingly rubbing her back.

At first she was tense under his hand, her muscles tight under the soft tee shirt she wore. But slowly she relaxed against him, her hands slowly creeping up his broad chest, finally wrapping around his neck. She sighed loud enough for him to hear and buried her face into his shirt, breathing the wonderfully male scent of him.

"Better?” he rumbled, though he would have been content to hold her as long as she wanted. He felt her nod, but she did nothing to move away from him. When he felt her shiver, he reached down and lifted her in his arms, holding her high against his chest.

"What are you doing?” she asked softly, not really caring as long as he didn't leave.

"I'm taking you to bed,” he answered, just as softly, turning from the kitchen and into her bedroom. She stiffened against him again, but all he did was drop a soft kiss on the silky black curls that tickled his neck.

Her bedroom was a surprise. He'd been sure she'd have art deco, crazy shapes and wild colors in her room. Instead, it was painted a soothing green, one wall the same dark red brick that made up the rest of the building. A big plush bed was against one wall, with tons of pillows and a thick sage green comforter. He pulled that and the sheet back with one hand before easing her under them. Covering her, he sat down on the side of the bed, his hands restless. He seemed anxious to touch, constantly reaching for her to brush a stray curl from her face or to stroke a hand down her arm.

"When I was a beat cop,” he said softly, his rumbly voice making her feel safe, “I got a call downtown to the wharf district. Someone was screaming for help and whoever called the police didn't know why. I headed down that way, thinking that it was probably nothing, a junkie that woke up on the wrong side of his high or a prostitute that got rolled.” He paused, his fingers twining with hers, watching how their hands looked together.

"What happened?” she urged, liking the sound of his voice and interested in learning more about him.

"I didn't wait for backup, just took off on my own. The woman who'd been screaming was dead, she'd been beaten severely, and the man who'd done it was still there. He was hopped up on drugs—out of his mind. I shot him,” Gideon paused again, glancing at her.

"And?"

"He kept coming. He kept coming through four more bullets and probably would have beaten me to death if backup hadn't arrived when it had. I spent four days in the hospital and...I shouldn't tell you this."

Kenzie smiled, reaching over with her other hand and playing with his mussed shirt. “Oh, now you have to tell me."

"I still have nightmares about him. Bad ones,” he admitted, glancing at her from under his lashes. “Now you know my worst secret. I'm a coward.” He sighed theatrically.

The snort that came from Kenzie was definitely disbelieving. “Yeah, sure you are. Next you'll tell me that there actually is a Santa Claus."

"There isn't?” he asked, tongue-in-cheek.

"Ha ha. I'm really sorry I dragged you out of bed to come over and take care of my histrionics.” She stared at a spot on his chest as she spoke, glancing up under her thick lashes to see the expression on his face.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, a bit.” Her voice trailed off and she jumped when he got up.

She watched as he kicked off his shoes, pulling his shirt up and over his head. “What are you doing?” she asked quickly, a note of panic in her tone even though the sight of that chest, bare, wide, with a trailing of dark hair that disappeared under his jeans, had her heart beating faster.

"I thought I'd lie down with you until you fell asleep,” he said and she couldn't help but hear the sound of amusement in his voice. “I promise to behave."

"Oh,” she said lamely, watching as he moved around the bed and stretched out on top of the comforter. He whapped a pillow once or twice, put it behind his head and then held out his arms to her.

"Come here."

She went, she really didn't have a choice. He made her feel safe and cared for. Feelings she hadn't had in a very long time. She'd been so independent, thinking that if she leaned upon anyone, she'd be showing weakness. You couldn't be weak in the world of journalism. It was like a pool of sharks that fed upon themselves. Weakness meant you ended up as fish food.

Pillowing her head on his wide chest, she let her hand drape over him, feeling that trail of hair under her fingers. She could smell him, a musky, manly scent mixed with something spicy and warm and very appealing. His heart beat under her ear as his arms came around her, holding her close, his hand resting on her hip on top of the comforter.

"Comfy?” he asked, turning his head to whisper the word against her hair.

"Yes,” she mumbled, her eyes closing to savor his presence.

"Good,” he said and she could feel him smiling against her hair. “Go to sleep, Mac. I'll chase the boogey man away."

Phrased like that, how could she do anything else?

Hair tickled his nose, a soft hand stroked over his stomach, arousing not only his wakening conscious but also his desire. It had been a long time since he'd slept with a woman in his arms and he savored the way she felt, warm and heavy with sleep. Her breasts pressed into his chest, her fingers slipping under the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes opened as he heard her sigh.

The small lamp on the bedside table was still on, giving a weak yellowish light that shone over her. He couldn't help but stare, her cheeks were rosy in sleep, her lips parted and her eyelids fluttering with her dreams. She'd kicked off the comforter during the night, her leg coming up to lie across his thighs. She was wrapped around him, using him for a pillow.

Her fingers brushed against his belly once more and he thought he'd explode... His jeans were tight over his erection, his blood throbbing in his veins as it rushed to his groin. He heard a moan and knew he'd made that sound, unable to stop as his skin became almost unnaturally sensitive to her touch.

Gideon held his breath, waiting to see what she would do next, as he fought off the urge to roll her under him and strip the clothes from her body. He wanted to plunge into her and hear her scream of pleasure. Instead, he forced himself to be still, even as his entire being centered on that small hand that was sliding under his jeans.

Kenzie's hand found the tip of his cock, her fingers sliding over it in her sleep. She murmured something that he couldn't hear and then she sighed, snuggling closer.

Her hand didn't move.

It stayed where it was, wrapped around him, making him long to push into her hand.

"Mac?” he whispered.

When she didn't move or change the deep even cadence of her breathing, he reached over and unbuttoned the top of his jeans, giving her more room. He yanked on the zipper, carefully running it down, freeing him from the denim to press more fully into her hand.

"Mac?” he tried again, a bit louder now that he'd kept himself from breaking a part of his anatomy he wanted badly to keep.

She mumbled his name, her hand closing into a fist around his hard cock. She stroked him once, and then again, making his breath hiss out of his mouth in an exclamation of pleasure. His hips moved without his permission, thrusting slowly into her hand, seeking the sweet release she seemed to promise.

"Oh God,” he groaned, closing his eyes and letting his head drop back against the pillow. “Mac!” he called, wanting her to wake up before he embarrassed himself.

"W-what?” she mumbled, stirring sleepily against him, her eyes still closed. She opened them at the same time that she seemed to realize what she was doing. “Oh,” she whispered, a blush infusing her cheeks.

Gideon opened his eyes when her hand didn't move off of his cock. He looked down at her to see why she hadn't dropped him like a venomous snake and jumped from the bed. Her eyes were staring at her hand, her fingers still moving slowly over him, almost as if she couldn't stop herself.

"Mac,” he growled, his voice a husky rumble. “If you don't stop, I'm going to come."

"Really?” she asked, her head tipping back to look at him before dropping to his groin once more.

"God, yes, really,” he groaned. His hips jerked as her soft fingers played over him more. “Do you want me to?” he couldn't help but ask when she kept stroking him.

"I...I've never seen...” she paused and Gideon watched as she bit her bottom lip, taking that succulent flesh between her pearly white teeth.

"You've never seen a man come?” His eyes narrowed and he stared down at her. “Are you trying to tell me that tough as nails Mackenzie Hunter is a virgin?"

She nodded, the flush on her cheeks growing redder.

"There's no way,” he breathed, a surge of emotion surprising him. It was a mix; lust, tenderness, disbelief, coiled around a healthy dollop of attraction that had his cock pulsing in her hands and him just an instant away from initiating her. His hand dropped over hers, stopping her movement, pulling her hand off his cock even as he groaned.

With gentle fingers, he settled her hand on his stomach, then reached up and lifted her chin. She met his eyes, then hers skittered away until he refused to release her, coming back to his. “You really are a virgin?"

Mackenzie nodded. “It's not that big of a deal,” she whispered.

"It's a huge deal. Where'd you grow up? A monastery?"

"A monastery is full of monks,” she grumbled. “I grew up in Texas with an older brother and cousins that scared off any boy who even looked at me twice. My cousin Aaron even went to the same college as me and made my social life there a living hell."

"But you aren't in Texas anymore,” Gideon said. “Monroe City is pretty far from Texas. Why haven't you...since you moved here?"

"Do you know how hard it is to be taken seriously as an investigative reporter when you're a woman? It's probably like a female homicide detective. We have to work twice as hard to get half the respect a man would get at the same job. I haven't had the time to... Not if I wanted to be taken seriously.” Her voice grew stronger as she spoke and she lifted herself up so that she laid over him.