Out Of Control (10 page)

Dana
could barely tear her eyes off him as the muscles in his throat worked to
swallow the soda. The pulse in her pussy beat heavily, a totally foreign
sensation. Her nerves felt as if someone had removed all the protective
coverings and exposed them to the sensuality of this man. Could he see the thudding
of the pulse beat at her throat? Was her face unnaturally flushed? She had a
feeling that somehow, in those eyes that revealed nothing, he knew her darkest
secrets.

If
all of this was a deliberate attempt to put her off balance she didn’t dare let
him know how well it was working.

He
locked gazes with her again.

“So
how about it, Miss Moretti? I’m not looking for social discourse, just an
explanation. What’s your real angle here?”

Cole
wanted to slap his head and kick his brain back into gear. Coming here had to
be the dumbest fucking thing he’d done all year. But the shock of seeing his
water nymph from the night before—the vision of his intensely erotic dream—walk
boldly into his office this morning, as if he’d conjured her from his dream,
still hadn’t worn off. Maintaining his composure had been hard.

It
wasn’t enough that she’d popped up out of nowhere to rake open the muck of a
case everyone had buried as deep as they could. The hard-on he got the minute
he laid eyes on her today was killing his concentration.

There
was nothing sexy about the way she dressed, and her personality could freeze
Hell. But he’d taken one look at her slender, shapely body, her soft mouth and
thick, shining blonde hair that reflected the lights, and his dick had stood up
and whacked him. Just like last night.

Wonderful.
Just what he needed. A stiff dick for a nosy, uptight, and from what he could
tell, slightly frigid writer. What the hell was he thinking? He’d given himself
a mental shake and dismissed all possibility of her from his mind for about
half a heartbeat.

Then
he’d stupidly taken another look and seen hazel eyes flecked with green but so
bruised he couldn’t imagine what hell they’d seen. Looking at her now, so
obviously trying to hide the fear she was feeling, he sent his dick a stern
message to assume parade rest. This was not a woman who gave out sexual signals
at all, although he sensed something buried deep inside her was fighting hard
to get out. And that something was scaring her to death. Something was
off-kilter here, and he planned to find out what it was.

He
watched her, curled into the big armchair she’d chosen, the too-large T-shirt
hanging slightly off one shoulder, bare legs tucked firmly against her tempting
ass. She’d poured her soft drink into a glass she clutched with a death grip,
her eyes focused on the bubbles dancing in the liquid. She was ignoring his
question, as if the longer she waited to answer, the sooner he’d lose interest.
She’d soon learn he never lost interest when something mattered to him.

“Miss
Moretti?” he prompted.

“Dana.”
She lifted her eyes to look at him. “Miss Moretti sounds too confrontational.”

He
swallowed a grin. Confrontational seemed to be her middle name, but apparently,
she was holding out an olive branch. To pick his brain? Coerce him
into…what…helping her?

“Dana
it is,” he nodded. “Will that get me an answer to my question?”

She
frowned. “I’m sorry. What was it you asked?”

He
leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the soft drink bottle dangling
from his hands. “I asked what this project of yours is really all about. I get
a sense here this is more than a writing project for you.”

She
lowered her eyes again, shielding whatever expression they held. “You know what
I do, Sheriff. I select an unsolved crime that interests me, do the research,
and write the book. That’s not very complicated.”

He
pulled out what he’d been told was his knock-your-socks-off smile, hoping to
lighten the tension filling the air. “Cole.”

“Excuse
me?”

“If
you’re Dana, I’m Cole. Besides, I’m not in uniform.” He leaned back, making his
posture less threatening, and he could see her shoulders relax minimally. “So,
Dana, what’s the deal? Writers researching a story don’t usually rent a house
and put down roots, no matter how temporary they might be. They rent a motel or
hotel with maid service so they don’t have to think about anything but the
book.”

One
corner of her mouth lifted. “Have you ever seen the fake cowhide bedspreads at
the High Ridge Motel? Or tried relaxing in one of their rooms? I need to feel
comfortable when I work.”

“Let’s
say I buy that. There’s still something in your attitude that tells me this is
more than a story to you. So give it up. What’s the deal?”

She
was silent for so long he wasn’t sure she planned to answer him. Then she
sighed, took a long swallow of her drink, and set the glass on the little table
next to the chair.

“I
think the worst crimes committed are those against children,” she said at last,
speaking slowly and deliberately. “They’re the most defenseless people. The
most vulnerable. And the most trusting. People who…injure them betray that
trust. I think whoever did this to the children of High Ridge has been able to
hide long enough. If I can find answers, maybe everyone can finally get some
peace.”

“All
right. If that’s your story.” He lifted his bottle to his lips, looking at her
over the length of it. “But remember, when you start to dig up secrets, sooner
or later all of them come to the surface. Even the ones you want to hide.”

Did
her face pale a little? Was that a tightening of her body he sensed?

He
wished she’d put on something a little different to wear. Like body armor or
chain mail. The soft fabric of her T-shirt, even as big as it was, draped
lovingly against her breasts. The outline of her nipples, which he could see
without any problem at all, told him she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath it.
Her shorts came down to the midpoint of her thighs, but they were loose, and
even in her tightly curled position he could get a tiny glimpse of the tempting
bits of flesh they covered.

Suddenly
the image of her naked flashed across his brain. Temptingly spread-eagled on
cool, crisp sheets. Breasts full and pointing. Pubic curls covering a pussy that
he wanted to plunge his cock right into. Inner thighs glistening with the
juices of her arousal.

He
squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. Thank God her voice interrupted his
x-rated reverie.

“I
don’t know what ulterior motives you think I have,” she told him, straightening
in her chair. “I just want to do a thorough job.” She tucked her hair behind
her ears. “By the way, I noticed something today when I was looking at those
old reports. All of the…bodies were found somewhere near where they were
originally taken. The same place they were taken from. Don’t you wonder how he
could have managed that if he were just some itinerant? He’d have to know how
and when to get in without being seen.”

Cole
frowned. Maybe he should have read the reports himself. “You’re very thorough.”

“I
was hoping after I’ve had a chance to analyze my notes I could steal some of
your time to ask you questions.”

Okay.
He’d play along.

“I
think that can be arranged, although I’m not sure what I can tell you.” He took
a long swallow of his drink. “I assume you’re planning to talk to the parents?”

She
nodded. “The ones that are still around here.” Her eyes challenged him. “Don’t
worry, I know how to be sensitive and circumspect.”

“I’m
sure you do.”

She
pushed herself up from her chair. “I appreciate you bringing my BlackBerry to
me, and I don’t want to seem rude, but I do need to get to work.”

“No
problem.” He unfolded himself from the couch. “I’ll just stick this bottle in
the kitchen.”

“That’s
all right. I’ll take it.”

She
reached for it at the same time he moved to hand it to her, and the skin to
skin contact nearly fried him. Again, she startled him by jerking away and
moving back two steps. Her hands shook as she opened the door.

When
he moved aside, he was standing so close he felt her breath on his skin. An
idiotic impulse seized him, and before he knew it, he did the dumbest thing
ever. He lifted his hands to cup her face, thumbs stroking her high cheekbones,
and very gently lowered his mouth to hers.

She
was stiffer than a board, her mouth unresponsive. The hand holding the bottle
popped up, and for a moment, he was afraid she’d hit him with it. But he didn’t
retreat nor did he increase the pressure on her lips. One of his hands slid
easily down her back and cupped her ass, firm beneath the thin material of her
shorts. She relaxed under his touch, her lips softened, her body hummed with
silent vibration, and his erection gained a mind of its own.

Then,
without warning, she tensed again, shoved hard at his chest, and jumped back.
Her face was pale as snow, and her eyes were looking every place but at him. It
took him a second to realize she was frightened. Panicky. What the hell was
going on here?

“I’m
sorry,” he apologized, taking a step onto the porch. “I had no right to do
that. I was way out of line. It won’t happen again. But Dana, there’s something—”

“No.”
She clutched the bottle to her like a security blanket. Or a weapon. “There’s
nothing. It’s best if we just forget all about this. Good night, Sheriff.”

So
it was back to formality. Okay. He’d have to figure out how to regroup here.
More than his hormones were stirred. Miss Dana Moretti had secrets, and he meant
to find out what they were. Because in a tiny space of time she’d crawled under
his skin and sparked something deep inside him. He couldn’t remember the last
time a woman had done that, and he wasn’t about to let this thing go without
figuring out why that was.

“Good
night, Dana. Call me when you want to talk. I’ll make time.”

He
was gone before she could say anything else.

For
a man who’d been more than circumspect in his love life since taking this job,
he suddenly seemed to be losing his mind. And over a woman who had what looked
to be a bad case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He’d seen enough of it in
the service to easily spot it.

So
what was her story? What had traumatized her to such a degree? And what, if
anything, did it have to do with the child murders now twenty-five years old?
He’d really have to watch himself with her. He might be irritated that she was
digging into those old cases, but they were sure to be spending a lot of time
together. The last thing he wanted to do was send her over the edge, which was
always possible when flying blind.

He
sat in his truck for a long while, watching the house, seeing her shadow behind
the living room curtains standing totally still. Was she watching, too?

Grinding
his teeth, he cranked over the engine and backed out of the driveway. He had
the feeling his life was about to get way more complicated than he wanted.
Maybe he needed to have breakfast with Tate again. Or take him up on the invite
to dinner.

****

Dana
stood like a statue in the living room, staring at the curtains as if she could
see through them to the man still sitting in her driveway. His empty soda
bottle hung limply from her hand. The thunderous beating of her heart banging
against her ribs and the pulses throbbing hard in all her private places
sounded so loud she was afraid he’d hear them outside. Her entire body felt as
if she’d been zapped with a hotwire, then dumped in a freezer.

Slowly,
she brought one hand to her mouth and touched her fingertips to her lips. She
could still feel the imprint of him there, like the mark of a branding iron.
That had been a huge mistake, but the remnants of the dream had still clung to
her. She’d nearly put herself in a bad place with him.

Then
the panic had clawed its way up, freezing her insides. Gripping her. She knew
she was frightened of her reaction to him. It wasn’t just the lightning bolts
of awareness that shot through her every time they touched. It was something
more. For the first time in her adult life, her body was giving her the kind of
signals she’d always hoped to have. Signals that meant she desired a man. Even
though it petrified her, she wanted to respond to it.

Because
he makes me feel safe.

How
ridiculous was that?

Still,
she knew that even if she was brave enough to let herself see where those feelings
took her, she’d never be able to deliver. She was a fraud. But she could hardly
tell that to sexy Cole Landry. And he’d ask questions she didn’t want to
answer.

God,
she was such a mess.

She
wondered what his real motivation had been for coming here tonight. He could
have had one of his deputies deliver her BlackBerry, but he was curious. She
saw it in his eyes. And determined to sidetrack her if he could. Was his kiss
meant to throw her off balance, or was it something else? And if it was
something else, then what?

Jesus.
She was driving herself crazy with all this double think.