If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (9 page)

“Yeah. You’re right here, all right,” Law said.

She thought she might have heard laughter in his voice. Shooting him a dark look, she snapped, “I’m not drunk.”

He lifted his hands. “I didn’t say you were.”

“Want me to take her home, Reilly?”

She shot the bartender a dirty look. “Like I’d let you.”

Big, bushy brows rose over his eyes.

Law lifted a hand. “I’ll take care of her, Leon.”

Nia snorted. “Yeah. Right.” She reached into her pocket, digging out her keys. In the back of her mind, an alarm started to sound—images flashed, but they were too vague, too blurred, making no sense. Clumsy, fat fingers closed around the keys and she jerked them out. “I’m going to my hotel,” she announced, flashing her keys at Law.

“Uh-huh.”

Two seconds later, her hands were empty.

She wiggled her fingers, looking for the keys.

They weren’t there. Frowning, she checked her pocket again, then the floor. Where had they gone?

They jangled and she looked up, scowled when she realized Law had them.

“Come on, gorgeous. I’ll get you back to the hotel. You can thank me in the morning when that bike of yours is still in one piece … and you are, too.” Law slid an arm around her waist.

She started to jerk away from him. “I don’t let anybody touch my bike.” But even as she started to pull away, she relaxed against him, wondering why she would want to pull away. He smelled … wonderful. Like … well, a guy. Warm, sexy, like soap, grass, and beer. Something else, too … hmmm, books, she thought. He kind of smelled like books. She liked it. A lot.

Turning her face into his neck, she breathed him in. “Hmmm. You can’t touch my bike,” she said. “But maybe you can touch me.”

Law grimaced as she slid a hand under his shirt. Her fingers were cool, sleek, and wicked against him, tracing along his skin with no hesitation and all sorts of determination.

If he lived through the night, he deserved a nomination for sainthood.

Maybe he should have told Leon to call it quits before she’d ordered that fourth round. But right up until she’d gone to slip out of the booth, she’d been steady as rain. Barely even a glint in her eyes to betray that she was anything beyond sober.

But then she slid off the seat and although she wasn’t slurring her words, wasn’t tripping over her feet, it was pretty clear she wasn’t sober. There was also the fact that she had her hand under his shirt, sliding over his belly like she was petting a cat.

Damn—he wouldn’t mind being a cat, for her.

Aw, fuck … now she was toying with his belt buckle. It was his turn to stumble a little as he led her over to the door. Yeah, not entirely sober, there, and damned if he wasn’t going to suffer for it.

“I like the way you smell,” she muttered. She tipped back her head to stare at him. “Like it a lot. You gonna come to the hotel with me?”

“Yeah. I’ll come back with you.”
To tuck you into bed … right before I go home and take a cold shower, jack off
.

A wide, wicked grin spread over her face and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, really …? Aren’t you going to talk me out of it? Tell me how I’ve had too much to drink and I don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Oh, you’ve definitely had too much to drink
, he thought. He just barely managed not to whimper like a baby as she arched her hips against him.

“A pretty lady wants me to take her to her hotel,” Law said after he took a moment and swallowed, hoping he could talk without his voice cracking. “Who am I to argue?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Leon watching the whole thing with a look of amusement on his face.

Then Nia slanted her mouth over his and Law forgot where he was. Who he was.

Oh, shit.

Her lips parted against his, her tongue slid across his lower lip and without waiting a beat, she pushed inside his mouth. There was no hesitation in her kiss, nothing shy or slow … nothing but a determined, sexy woman and he was all but helpless to resist.

Helpless—

Fuck it, Law, she’s plastered—

He told himself that. Twice.

Then he reminded himself why she was here—why she’d come to town.

And just when he thought he was going to totally lose control, she pulled away and settled back to look at him with a smile. “Come on, then.”

Without saying anything else, she pulled away and sauntered out of the Grill.

Law clenched his hands into fists, digging the ridged surface of her keys into the palm of his left hand—hoping the pain might clear his mind a little.

“You
are
just planning on getting her to the hotel, right?”

Shooting Leon a dark look, he snarled, “Yes. I’m not a total asshole.”

“Nah. I know that. But you’re a guy. And hell, I don’t know if
I
could walk away after that. Glad I ain’t you.”

Law groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. Shit, right then, he didn’t want to be him, either. Get her out to his car. He could handle that.

Get her to the hotel.

There wasn’t even much of a question
which
hotel, because they had only
one
hotel.

Unless she meant the Inn … and somehow he doubted it. If she’d been at the Inn, she wouldn’t have bothered coming into town, because she could have gotten something to eat there, something to drink there. So she had to mean the hotel and why in the hell was he even thinking about this shit—

Taking a deep breath, he joined her outside, telling himself he’d get her in the car, get this done, get home so he could die in peace. Or in agony, actually.

But she met him before he even made it halfway across the sidewalk, one hand coming up to cup his neck, the other hooking in the front of his jeans. She slid her fingertips inside the waistband and Law’s eyes damned near crossed.

Her tongue slid out, dancing in a burning pattern along his neck and he swore, all but ready to beg for mercy and then he saw his car—finally—why in the
hell
was it parked over there?

Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her loose, liquid body away from his and nudged her across the parking lot to the car. “Get in,” he grunted.

“Don’t wanna,” she whispered, staring at him from under her lashes.

Her eyes … they burned like molten gold as she stared at him in the dim light. Her tongue came out, slicking along her lower lip.

Law could have gone to his knees.

“Too far to walk to the hotel, sugar,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. He sounded a little hoarse, maybe, but not bad. Good—he could do this. He could.

“Hmm. Hotel. That’s a good reason.” Then she slid up against him, pressed that body against his, all long and lean and lush.

He couldn’t do this—

Swearing, he fisted a hand in her short hair, yanked her head back and slanted his mouth over hers. She opened for him, humming with delight and Law was cursing himself even as he gorged on her taste. Fuck, she was sweet—hot, sweet, and perfect. And drunk … had to remember that, had to …

Her tongue slid against his and she slid her hands under his shirt, skimmed them up his sides, then down. But then she reached between his legs, palmed him through his jeans, and Law groaned.

It took more strength than he thought he had to tear himself away from her.

“Car,” he snarled, putting two feet between them. Then three. “Damn it, get in the fucking car.”

She laughed. It was low, husky, and all too seductive. “Awww … you’re no fun.”

“Get in the car, Nia,” he snapped.
Damn it, before I do something you’ll hate me for—before I do something
I’ll
hate me for
. She’d leave Ash sooner or later, and he’d never see her again, but damn it, he had to live with himself and he didn’t want to take advantage of a drunken woman who was going through hell.

She smirked. “Fine. It’s not like the hotel is
that
far away.”

As he circled around the car, he grimaced. She wasn’t joking. The hotel was only a mile away.

It wasn’t as if she was very likely to sober up and as he slid into the driver’s seat, she immediately laid a hand on his thigh, stroking up, then down … up. Down. Teasing. Taunting.

“Would you stop?” he finally begged.

She laughed again … and stopped.

It gave him a few precious moments to try to cool himself down. He could do this. He could. He just had to remind himself how she had looked earlier when he’d seen her talking to Ezra.

A few months back.

Yeah. He could do this. Really.

A soft sound came to his ears.

At first, he didn’t quite catch it. Then, abruptly, he started to laugh.

Shit.

She’d fallen asleep.

Son of a bitch.

Looked like somebody had decided to cut him a break, after all.

I
F THERE WAS ONE THING
N
IA HATED ABOUT GETTING
drunk, it was the fact that she remembered it all the next morning. In vivid, Technicolor detail.

She lay on her bed at the oh-so-cleverly named Ash Hotel, staring up at the ceiling, still wearing her jeans, her T-shirt, even her damned shoes, and replaying the entire night, from start to finish.

Seeing Law. Talking to Law. Kissing Law.
Groping
Law.

Groaning, she sat up and covered her face with her hands, tried to figure out just what in the hell she’d been thinking. Except that was the problem.

For the first time in months, she hadn’t been thinking. She’d let herself just … relax. It had been, well … nice. Just sitting there. For a little while she’d been able to forget about things.

“You don’t have a
right
to forget,” she muttered, utterly disgusted with herself. No right—at all. Her cousin had been murdered, and everything inside her screamed that the guy who had killed her was
not
dead.

What right did she have to forget?

With tears pricking her eyes, she climbed out of the bed, stripping out of her clothes and leaving them in a
trail on her way to the bathroom. A hot shower. She needed a hot shower. Then coffee. Then she’d continue kicking her ass, while she figured out how to face Law again … after she’d all but eaten him alive …

Guilt and embarrassment—a bad, bad combination. But that wasn’t enough—just the memory of last night was enough to reignite the burn of hunger.

“Shit.”

Heat hit her low and hard, square in the belly. So
not
what she needed. She wasn’t the type to ever really get hangovers, and other than just a vague queasy feeling, a whole lot of embarrassment, and plenty of guilt, she had been feeling fine, until now.

Bracing her hands on the counter, she sucked in a deep breath and muttered, “A long time. That’s all. You were drunk. It had been a long time. That is
all
.”

She just needed a damned orgasm. That was why he’d been so damned appealing. That was why she felt like she could have eaten him alive. Why she was still inclined to do just that—

Swearing, she climbed into the shower and cranked the heat up to high. As the hot water came pouring down on her, she braced her back against the cool tile wall. She had been alone too long. Just alone too long and she needed a climax.

Nia could give herself a damn climax, and she’d damn well do it, too.

She didn’t need a guy.

Except even as she slid her hand down her belly, it was
his
face she was seeing. When she tried to block it out, it only got worse. Nia whispered, “The hell with it.”

If she had to think of a guy, there were definitely worse ones to be thinking of …

Law twirled the keys and studied the door, the coffee, the door.

Then his car.

He should just leave. She was probably still sleeping. It was after nine, though. And why in the hell wouldn’t she want caffeine? She’d probably need it. Hungover and all, right? Who wouldn’t want caffeine, need caffeine under those circumstances?

Besides, he did need to return her keys, right? He’d even gotten up early just so he could go to Leon’s, drive the bike over here, then get back to his car, all without making it look like he’d been rushing around to get all of that done, too.

Granted, it had
occurred
to him last night that when he kept her keys in his pocket that he would have to come back here today. He could have even used the keys as an excuse to see her again later, but that seemed too … contrived. Was a lot better to just run around like an idiot without her knowing instead of making a heavy-handed pass, right?

He pretended he was being responsible. Had even insisted that was the only thought in his mind when he carried her into her hotel room and laid her on the bed. Although responsibility had nothing to do with why he’d decided to brush his fingers down her face. She had the softest damn skin …

“Stop thinking about her skin,” he snapped.

“Excuse me?”

With red creeping up his neck, Law looked up and realized he had an audience.

And it was Deb Sparks, of all the damned people. Son of a bitch. Setting his jaw, he gave her a tight smile and said, “Just talking to myself, Deb. You know me.”

“I see.” She sniffed and glanced at the coffee in his hand. “Are you … visiting somebody?”

“No. I’m just here to talk to myself and stare at a door all day. You?”

“You don’t need to be so rude,” she said, drawing in
a sharp breath through her nose and glaring at him. Then she smoothed a hand down the front of her butter-yellow skirt. “I’m here to talk to Sam … you might not know him, being new in town, but he’s the owner. He’s looking for an assistant manager and I was thinking it would just be the
perfect
job for my daughter-in-law. My son is …”

New in town
—never mind that he’d been here for about a decade now. But she’d call him new in town after he’d lived here fifty years.

“Uh-huh. That’s nice, Deb,” he cut in and lifted a hand, banging on Nia’s door with a lot more force than necessary. Okay, if he had to choose between humiliating himself in front of a beautiful woman, or even waking up a beautiful, potentially hungover woman and listening to Deb Sparks?