Long Simmering Spring (18 page)

“Oh, sure,” he said, lifting his arm off her. “Didn’t realize you needed to use the bathroom.”

She sat up, pulling the comforter up to cover her breasts, and shook her head. “No. I mean
you’re
leaving.”

He propped himself up on one elbow. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Yes.” She tried to speak firmly, but it was difficult, given that he was looking at her like a sexy, predatory beast. “You don’t need to stay here with me anymore.”

“Even after you invited me to have dinner with you?”

She tried not to wince. “Yes.” It had been more than simply a dinner invitation and both of them had known it.

Rather than seeming angry, he looked faintly bemused. “Never figured you for that kind of woman.”

“I’m not,” she said stiffly. “I just want you to leave.” Cole sized her up for a good long minute, not saying a word, while she sat there, awkwardly watching him. When time had gone on long enough, she spoke. “Well?”

“No.”

She blinked. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean, no. I’m not leaving.”

“What are you doing, Cole?” She didn’t break her gaze.

He sat up in the bed, sliding right next to her, and placed his hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t crowding her, but his large presence seemed to suck out all the air in the vicinity. “I think what you’re trying to figure out isn’t what I’m doing. It’s what
we’re
doing.” He trailed his fingers down her arm. Involuntarily, she shuddered, a tingling sensation beginning to snake its way through her body.

“What do you mean?” He was burning her up from the inside out with just his eyes and his fingertips.

“You know what I mean,” he said, moving his lips until they were very close to her own. So close that if she just leaned forward a fraction of an inch, they’d be touching. His other hand was on her shoulder now, warm and heavy. It felt good.

She shouldn’t be engaging him. She should just stand firm and make him go so she could collect her thoughts. But the desire in his eyes made her want him to stay. “Why don’t you explain it to me?” she whispered.

“You’re nervous. Hell, I’m nervous, too. Nervous I’m going to screw this up somehow.”

Cole Grayson, nervous? “Tell the truth.”

“Lying’s not one of my sins,” he said. “But the real truth is pretty obvious, don’t you think, Doc? You told me straight up you were just looking for a good time, but that’s not who you are. Not at all. You think you can just screw me and kick me out? Uh-uh. That’s not the way this is going to work.”

She frowned. “It’s kind of what I planned.”

“Well you can just kiss that plan goodbye.” His hand was on the back of her neck now, forcing her to look at him. “You’re tough enough for this. And I’m tough enough for you.”

Julie let those words settle. And when they’d settled, deep down, anchoring her, she lifted her lips to his.

He slipped a hand down to cup her breast, and as he began to work his clever fingers over her sensitive skin, she couldn’t deny him. Just the thought of having his strong hands on her again, making her body sing, triggered something inside.

And then he intensified the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers and kissing her so thoroughly that she forgot about everything except his hands and his mouth and his body’s skill in bringing her to the brink of passion over and over again.

When he replaced his fingers with his mouth on her breast, she’d stopped thinking about the fact that this was turning out to be much more than she’d expected. And when he leaned her back on her pillows and stroked between her thighs with an expert’s touch, she’d quit worrying about all the emotional complications. And when he slowly pressed one, then two long fingers into her, stretching her, preparing her, the only thing on her mind was Cole.

Her body was thrumming, in a place so high she couldn’t see the ground. Dimly, she was aware that he wasn’t going to let her fall. Not without him to catch her. And then that thought was swept from her mind in a tidal wave of pleasure so intense she thought she would die. But he wouldn’t let her go over the edge without him.

Settling between her legs, he arranged her so that she was comfortable, limbs loosely wrapped around his body. She’d backed off the cliff’s edge, but she was still close, fairly aching with want. Needing to feel him inside her. Slowly, ever so slowly, he sank into her waiting depths, drawing out his movements so that she was forced to hold on. To wait. Impatient, she tried to move, to get him to go faster, but he merely held her hips steady, compelling her to follow the pace he’d set. With every flick of his hips, with every deliberate movement, his finesse came into sharper focus. Even she, with her limited experience, could appreciate the workings of a master. With surgical precision, he led her through every nuance, every layer of pleasure.

And when she could bear no more, when every cell in her body was screaming for release, he simply pressed in a few strategic places and she went over, her mind and body bursting with the sheer force of her passion. He followed soon after, but she could hardly hear his shout through the frenzied buzzing in her head.

She was tired. Exhausted. Immediately, she fell into a deep sleep.

When Julie woke up, it was dark outside. Groggily, she blinked, then yawned and rubbed her eyes. She was naked and warm, buried deep within her bed. Slowly, she took stock of her body. She ached in some interesting places and was still damp in others. A warm shower would help. But first, she needed to truly assess the situation.

She was calmer now than she’d been before their second round of lovemaking. Was it because of her mind-blowing orgasms? No, it was because she’d finally accepted that it was actually her own issues that were holding her back, not his.
She
was the one who couldn’t get over the fact that she’d been afraid to let anyone into her life. It had been so long since she’d allowed anyone underneath her emotional armor that it was almost as if she didn’t know how to act anymore.

But just because she’d accepted that her issues existed didn’t mean she knew how to handle them. Getting over years of single-minded devotion to work—and all the isolation that went along with it—couldn’t be achieved in a day, a week, or even a month. At least, not with her. Relationships were complicated. Confusing. Frightening. Humbling. So she’d bitten off more than she could chew? Too bad. She’d just have to muck through with the rest of humanity, trying to figure out which end was up. She would have had to deal with her issues eventually; being with Cole had just brought those issues to the forefront. It was Cole who’d gotten her this far, after having her heart on lockdown for so long. For that, she’d always be grateful. She had such a long way to go, and she was scared, but she wanted to trust him. Maybe she could. Tonight, Cole had seen right through her, and he hadn’t allowed her to push him away. Instead, he’d soothed away the anxiety and shown her how good they could be together.

Speaking of Cole, where was he? He hadn’t actually left, had he?

A clattering sound from downstairs had her sitting upright in a flash, her heart racing. Praying that it was Cole downstairs, she was out of bed and dressed in fifteen seconds flat—thanks to her thirty-hour ER shifts with minimal sleep, she was used to moving fast despite any residual tiredness—and quietly crept to the top of the stairs.

“Cole?” she called out, wondering if she was stupid to be revealing her whereabouts to a potential burglar.

“Come on down, Doc,” he called back.

She let out a sigh of relief and her adrenaline started to retreat. “One minute.” While on the alert, she hadn’t realized how cold it was in the house. Calmer now, she needed an extra layer of clothing.

She went back into her room, threw a cardigan over her shirt, and slipped on a pair of boat shoes before padding down the stairs. The kitchen light was on and Cole was at the counter, clad only in his boxers. He was facing away from her, so she got a prime view of his back side, including his broad shoulders and muscled back, which tapered down toward a fine-looking rear end. He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Enjoying the view?”

She rolled her eyes and tried not to smile. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m a bit more hot-blooded than most.”

Walking up to him, she could see that he had out some eggs and milk and was rifling through the packages she’d brought back from Martha’s Vineyard. All of a sudden, she realized how hungry she was; she hadn’t eaten dinner and it had to be well after midnight.

Then he shifted to face her and thoughts of food were forgotten as her eyes were drawn to the tattoo on the left side of his rib cage. She’d had a chance to examine it earlier, but the light in her room had been dim and she’d been focused on getting to
other
things. In the kitchen light’s fluorescent glare, she could see that it was about the size of her palm, circular and intricately wrought, with names inked around some kind of insignia.

“Got a bowl?” he asked.

Her gaze jerked up to meet his. “Yes,” she said, slightly embarrassed to have been caught ogling him. She pulled a ceramic mixing bowl from a cupboard beneath the counter and handed it to him. “Here.”

“So what did you buy?” Cole asked, pulling out the contents of the first bag. “Fresh blueberries? At this time of year?”

“It’s already the third week of April,” she said, laughing. “Or have you forgotten what season it is?”

Cole simply grunted. “You have flour, right?”

“Yes. Up there.” She pointed to a high cupboard where she kept dry goods.

“Well, how do blueberry pancakes sound?”

“Mmm . . . good.” Julie went to grab some glasses for orange juice before suspicion dawned on her. “How did you know I liked breakfast for dinner?”

He gave her a smug smile as he cracked the eggs one by one into the bowl. “I have my sources.”

Guess that’s what comes from dating a lawman
. “I’ll have to have a chat with Lexie tomorrow,” she murmured.

“You won’t get it out of me that way,” he said. “Frying pan and spatula?”

“Here,” she said, handing him the implements. “I’m running up to get you a top, now. You can’t cook over a hot stove like that.”

“All right,” he agreed.

By the time she got back downstairs with the sweater he’d discarded on her bedroom floor, Cole was stirring some milk in the bowl. Then he added the flour, a pinch of baking powder, and a huge handful of blueberries. As he heated and seasoned the pan with a few pats of butter, he pulled on his tight, ribbed crewneck. She liked the way he looked in it almost as much as she liked how he looked out of it. He gave the batter one final stir before pouring it in perfect circles. There was a sizzling sound as the batter hit the hot pan, and the aroma of browning butter began to permeate the room.

Cole cooked the pancakes slowly, crisping them on one side before flipping them to the other. His movements were spare and competent. She liked this, having him cook for her. She’d been taking care of herself for a long time, and for once, it was nice to have someone else want to help.

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Julie asked.

“Oh, it’s just something I picked up over the years. Learned a few tricks on some lonely nights.”

Julie raised an eyebrow.

“All right, I’ll admit it,” he said with a laugh. “Seb taught me some techniques. Plates?”

“Right here.” She placed them on the counter along with some silverware. In a flash, Cole had set the food out. They moved to the table and he watched as she took her first bite.

The pancakes were warm, slightly crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. She bit into a hot blueberry and the tart fruit burst on her tongue. Just perfect. A guy who could cook, too? She felt herself sliding farther down the rabbit hole. “Good,” she said with a satisfied sigh. “Lexie Meyers has some competition now.”

Cole laughed and tucked into his own plate of food. “Not likely. There’s a reason why she was able to grow her catering business. Folks love her stuff.”

“It
is
really good,” Julie said, thinking about the cup of Earl Grey tea she liked to have with her meals at the LMK. She could make some later.

“So,” Cole said, after they’d been eating for a few minutes, “you remember when we visited my old precinct and I stepped away for a few minutes?”

Julie swallowed her mouthful of food. “Yes. You said you’d tell me what that was all about later. Is this ‘later?’”

“Yeah. I’ve been in discussions with the chief about the influx of drugs we’ve seen in Star Harbor and the work we’ve been doing with the Feds. In recent days, I’ve arrested five more people for possession of bath salts with intent to sell. You’ve heard of it?”

“Yes. Mephedrone. Newly banned. Obviously, I know the town is having issues with drugs, but Cole, that’s a lot of arrests for Star Harbor.”

“Let’s just say it’s unusual for a small town outside the main line—you know, Boston, New Haven, D.C., and on down—to see quantities this large. Even Don Rathbone had some on him. Val and his federal team are working with us at the Sheriff’s Department to try to dig deep into its source. I thought the chief would be able to shed some light based on what he’s been seeing in Boston.”

“And was he able to help?”

Cole’s face was grim. “Yes. He told me he’d been seeing more bath salts in Boston, too. A dozen people have died, and the Boston Police are working with the Feds to try to put a stop to it.”

“I’m aware that mephedrone is a powerful hallucinogen and stimulant—I had one overdose case of my own a few months ago—but I didn’t believe it was powerful enough to kill on its own.”

“People have no way of knowing how they’ll react to the drug,” Cole said. “It’s been known to cause violent behavior. And other problems arise when people take the drugs and then operate machinery, or work with power tools, or whatever it is that users do when they’re high.” He sighed and put his fork down. “And it’s not just the mephedrone. What’s complicating matters is that the stuff we’ve been seeing has been laced, making it all the more dangerous.”

“Now
that
makes more sense to me.”

“It seems to be unique to the area, which raises the issue of where all of these laced drugs are coming from. They have to have a steady supply and a place to cut the mephedrone with the oxycodone. The Grange operation we shut down a few months ago must not have been the only distribution center around here.”