Alone in the Dark (6 page)

elaborated after a beat.

"No."

She shook her head, as if she'd stumbled across the root of his problem. "There should

be."

His life was just fine the way it was. No attachments, no complications. Streamline. "I

thought you were a vet, not a psychiatrist." If he meant to make her back off by insulting

her, the amused smile on her face told him that he'd missed his target.

"Hey, even vets get to observe human nature once in a while," she told him. "And no one should be lonely."

His eyes narrowed like thunder clouds before a summer storm. "Who says I'm lonely?"

I do.But he obviously didn't appreciate her telling him so. She backed away. For now.

"Sorry." She held her hands up in surrender. "I guess I'm reading into things again."

He accepted the apology, but his tone was far from friendly. "It's a bad habit. You should

stop."

As she opened the front door Patience struggled to keep a straight face. "I'll work on it."

The wind whipped its way through trees now, clearing out dead leaves that went showering

out into the night air, performing a macabre dance as they scattered.

The evening felt chillier than it should have been.

Patience knew she should go back inside, but she stood where she was. Waiting for

something. She didn't know what.

And then a gust of wind took the ends of her hair, sending the strands gliding along his

face. Brady caught a light scent that wrapped itself around him, dragging him in. He felt

his stomach tightening.

The sound of her soft laughter echoed in his head.

Patience brushed back her hair from his face as well as her own.

"Sorry about that," she murmured.

An unfathomable look crossed Brady's face.

Patience wasn't sure just what happened next. She liked to think that Brady made the

first move.

Or that they made it together.

But in all likelihood, if she replayed the action in slow motion, she'd probably discover that

she was the initiating party. Never considered quite as vibrant as Uncle Andrew's girls,

Callie, Teri and Rayne, she still took the lead whenever she felt something should move

forward.

She didn't know exactly where she thought this thing between them should go. Looking

back later, she doubted that she'd actually thought at all. Reacted was more like it.

Sometimes, instincts just took over.

Maybe she'd been a vet too long and her patients had rubbed off on her. She didn't know.

All she knew was that one second she was removing strands of her hair that were in his

face and the next, her mouth had made contact with his.

And what contact.

It was something akin to the space shuttle taking off after countless delays. Lift-off was

perfect, accompanied by anticipation, tension and a vast number of internal explosions that

manifested themselves all around the shuttle.

If she truly was the initiator, all she'd meant to do was to make simple contact. Just

brush her lips against his.

Maybe press a little.

Again, it wasn't a conscious thought process. And after contact, a thought process was

the first thing to go in the meltdown.

Rising on her toes, feeling his arms tighten around her, pulling her closer to him, Patience

let herself fall into the kiss. Into an endless, spiraling abyss. She was free-falling through

space and it was the most exciting, delicious experience she'd ever had.

Brady had no idea what had just happened. One moment, she was just standing there on

her front step, the warm glow from the light inside bathing her face in seductive hues,

making him feel things that he had no desire to feel. The next moment, life as he'd known

it abruptly changed forever.

He was here as a cop, not as a man. But it was as a man that he was reacting. And when

the wind conspired against him, suddenly gliding her hair against his skin, making all hell

break out inside of him, he felt as if he was fighting a losing battle.

But curiosity and desire got the better of him. He gave in to the former, did his

damnedest to reconstruct the latter—and kissed her.

There had been many missteps in his life.

At night he would lie awake at times and review them, thinking how different the course

of his existence might be if he had just done some things differently. Even one thing

differently.

And now this could be added to the list. Because until he'd kissed her, he didn't know.

Didn't know that this woman could break apart his carefully constructed fortress.

At the moment of contact she made his head spin and his blood heat. It only became more

so. The more he kissed Patience, the more he knew he wanted to kiss her. The more he

wanted to take her back inside, to her bedroom and to find a way to release all this pent-

up tension he was feeling.

His body was hot against hers.

She could feel the heat, feel the desire. What was she doing? She was breaking her own

first rule, her own cardinal rule. How could she have just forgotten all about that?

But pleasure had a way of outweighing guilt. And panic. She kissed him as if it were all

that mattered in this world.

And then, suddenly, air rushed all around her. And the night made her cold again.

Brady had pulled back.

She pressed her lips together, savoring the taste she found there, telling herself she

shouldn't. He was a cop for heaven's sake and she wasn't about to get involved with a cop.

Not ever.

Very slowly, she let out a breath. It didn't help. She felt as if she was still trembling

inside like some kind of vestal virgin.

Damn it, what was wrong with her? It wasn't as if she were some kind of novice. She did

go out. Just not all that often. Most of the time, she preferred the company of her

patients or her family to a single, quite often awkward, one-on-one with a man.

Patience cleared her throat before finally venturing to put her confusion into words.

"What do you call that?"

"A mistake." He took another step back from her and toward his car. Standing behind him, King danced away. The look on her face was sheer disappointment. Because of the kiss or

what he'd said? "I'm sorry."

The words echoed in her head. He was sorry. He thought this was a mistake. Something

twisted inside of her and she became aware of pain. "Was it that bad?"

"No," he told her honestly, "it was that good."

She knew he was complicated, but this made no sense. "Then why are you sorry?"

"I had no business kissing you."

"I think business is the last thing either one of us had on our minds."

She was wrong there, Brady thought. He'd meant business. It was only by exercising the

extreme control he'd learned over the years that he'd kept from giving in to his feelings.

What he wanted to continue feeling.

That he felt anything at all was something he wasn't about to analyze yet. Or maybe ever.

He'd always thought of himself as not just part of the walking wounded, but of the

walking dead. Life within his parents' house and the subsequent shooting had deadened

everything inside him, except for maybe a sense of duty toward his mother and his sister.

But his mother had died and his sister had gotten married. There was no one for him to

take care of. No reason to feel responsible or protective any longer.

Once that was gone, he supposed that he had begun to search for something that might

restore even that little bit inside of him. That one spark of sensation that had been left in

the wake of his father's death.

But this kiss had punched a hole into the metal sheeting around his soul. It had showed

him a glimmer of a rainbow he hadn't had any idea even existed within him.

Maybe he was just too tired. Maybe that was why he thought he felt something when

there was actually nothing to feel.

He was too confused to sort out his feelings tonight. He looked toward his vehicle, still

parked across the street. "I've got to go."

Patience nodded. It was better this way. She wasn't prepared for what her body seemed

to want. At least Coltrane had the good sense to back away. If he'd taken the lead, drawn

her back inside and shut the door behind them, she didn't know if she would have been

able to put a stop to what she knew in her heart would follow.

Rather than see him down the two steps, she retreated to the shelter of the doorway.

"Thanks for stopping by."

He paused for a moment, then nodded toward the door. "Don't forget to lock up."

She laughed. Her brother and Coltrane definitely had things in common. "Now you sound

like Patrick."

There wasn't even a glimmer of a smile on his lips. "Then you should listen to him."

Because he sounded so serious, Patience couldn't resist teasing him. She saluted. "Good

night." She eased the door closed, then waited a beat.

"The lock," she heard him growl from the other side of the door.

She'd had a feeling he wouldn't leave until he heard the lock go into place. Patience

laughed to herself and then flipped it. Listening, she heard the sound of his footsteps

echoing into the night.

Patience leaned against the door, running her fingertips over her lips. She could almost

still feel him there. The very thought made her heart start to hammer again.

Wasn't this a fine mess?

"So," she murmured to the dog who stood beside her and looked up into her face, "what are we going to do about this?"

Tacoma's answer was to retreat to the kitchen. Not only was her soup bone still there but

the one that King had been gnawing on was there, as well.

She could just about make out whatTacomawas doing from where she stood. "Food."

Patience shook her head. "Nope, that's not going to help here."

She wasn't sure if anything would.

The next moment Patience stubbornly told herself she was making something out of

nothing. Coltrane had kissed her. Or maybe she'd kissed him. In any event, they'd kissed

one another and although the fireworks she felt rivaled the ones atDisneylandon the

Fourth of July, she doubted if the officer had felt the same.

Men never felt the same.

And so, being Brady, he would probably just shrug it off as an incident, nothing more.

Certainly not something to lose sleep over.

The way she probably would.

Patience frowned to herself. There was absolutely no point in her agonizing over

something that had no life of its own.

"Maybe you're right after all," she toldTacomaas she walked into the kitchen behind the

dog. "Maybe food is the answer."

She headed to the refrigerator. There was half a carton of ice cream in the freezer that

could stand revisiting.

His eyes became narrow slits. The anger inside his chest mounted in direct contrast,

growing to huge proportions. Threatening to explode. She'd lied to him.

The little bitch was just like all the others. He'd believed her and she'd lied.

He dug his fingers into his hands. Blunt, jagged nails pressed against his flesh, creating

red crescents. One began to bleed. He took no notice. All his attention, all his energy was

focused on the house in the center of the block.

Cursing under his breath, he retreated into the shadows again, the way he always did

when he watched her. Watched Patience.

And he'd been here, cloaked in darkness, watching as she'd kissed that bastard. That cop.

It should have been him on her doorstep, not Coltrane. He should have been the one to

taste her mouth, to feel her body molding into his. It was his right, damn it. He'd earned

it. He'd been patient. Patient with Patience.

His mouth curved cynically. There was no humor there. Only frustration, only anger.

He'd waited, setting the stage, anticipating the moment.

And someone else had gotten to experience it.

He felt so angry, so betrayed, he wanted to rip something apart. Anger raged within him

like a volley of artillery fire. He closed his eyes, clenched his hands and struggled to regain

control over himself.

Maybe she didn't realize what she was doing. Maybe that cop had taken advantage of her.

Smug, distant Coltrane wasn't fooling anyone. He was just waiting to pounce on her.

Well, he couldn't.

Patience belonged to him.

And someday soon, she was going to know it. And then he'd have everything he wanted.

Because he'd have her. And she would make restitution for this transgression. So it would

never happen again.

He watched the cop pull away in his flashy car. Good, he was leaving.

Becoming bold again, he ventured out a little, away from the shelter of the shadows. He

turned his face toward her house. Only the lights on the second floor remained. The

second floor.

Where her bedroom was.

A warmth slithered over his body as he began to imagine what she would look like,

stripping off her clothes one by one, slipping into bed.

Naked.

His breathing grew heavier. There was no one to hear.

Brady glanced in his rearview mirror. Standing on the back seat, King paced back and

forth between the two partially opened windows. This was how the dog acted when they

were on the trail of smuggled narcotics and he had caught the scent.

Except that there were no narcotics here.

"What's the matter with you, boy? Settle down." For once, King took no heed of the

command. He continued moving from side to side. Damn but he wished the animal could