Protecting What's His (5 page)

His eyes flared. “Was your performance for me alone or every man with a goddamn pair of eyes?”

He expected her to
talk
when his mouth was moving to her neck, sucking the sensitive spot underneath her ear? Expert lips traced a path down to her collarbone and back up, and he bit the tender area with a low growl.

“Is it all a tease or do you ever let them take you home?”

Ginger rolled her head to the side, begging for his lips to return to her neck. The hand plastered to her ass kneaded relentlessly, keeping her moving against his erection with intensifying friction. If he would just let her move her hips a little, she would come, even with her shorts on, but his hand and hips controlled her every action. She made a sound of frustration.

His breath rasped out harshly against her ear, punctuated by each thrust that pinned her to the shaking door. Knowing she affected him so powerfully in return made her dizzy. When his mouth found hers once more, she bit his lower lip then licked it, meeting his eyes under heavy lids. He responded by devouring her mouth on a loud groan, sucking her tongue until she writhed against him.

When Derek abruptly ceased his calculated torture, Ginger protested, seeking his mouth once more. He resisted.

Levering her against the door, he ran skilled hands down her thighs and hooked his arms under her knees, pulling them up until they almost reached his shoulders. Then his hips pressed in and upward. Hitting her right where she needed it. Ginger’s head fell back against the door.

“
Derek.”

“Answer me.”

She couldn’t remember the question. Her breath raced through her lips. Release hovered just within her reach. “No! I don’t go home with
any
of them. Ever.”

Her sincere answer appeared to calm him somewhat, but then he stepped back, dropped her legs and let her slide down his body. They both groaned at the contact. Ginger wanted to cry with frustration and nearly did so, but then the reality of their situation hit her full force. She’d been two seconds from letting a near-stranger screw her in a public hallway. Although this type of reckless behavior was out of character for her, it eerily reminded her of something. Some
one
.

Her mother.

Bitter anger and shame swept through her. Pushing against Derek’s chest, she let him see the full force of her fury. “And after that performance, what the hell makes you any different from the drunken assholes at the bar? You’re exactly like them. The only difference is I had the bad fortune of moving next door to you.”

His momentary calm evaporated and he backed her once more against the door, grasping her chin in his hand. “The difference is, you don’t want any of those men to fuck you. But you want me to fuck you very badly. Don’t you, Ginger?”

“No.”

Laughing darkly, one big hand dropped between her legs. He palmed her mound and squeezed, then ran two seeking fingers along the seam of her shorts where the telltale wetness gave her away. “Liar.”

“I hate you.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Would you like me to prove what a liar you are?”

“No, I’d like you to give me my keys so I can get the hell away from
you
.”

She snatched the keys from his outstretched hand and unlocked the door. Once inside, she threw the deadbolt and leaned back against the door, breathing heavily through her nose.

A moment later she heard heavy footsteps move down the hall.

Sinking down onto the floor, Ginger quickly realized three things.

One: She’d completely underestimated the effect Derek had on her. He possessed the ability to make her completely forget everything but him. The effect he had on her body. Valerie had forgotten herself one too many times and Ginger wouldn’t follow suit. No way in hell.

Two: He’d somehow stolen the phone numbers from her back pocket without her knowledge.

Three: She needed a vibrator. A powerful one.

Chapter Seven

Derek stared at the files on his laptop screen, unease settling over him. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling there was more to Ginger leaving Nashville than a neglectful mother, and now that he’d done a little more digging, it appeared his intuition might be right. According to Valerie’s most recent possession charge, she’d been bailed out of jail by an H. Devon. He’d quickly searched the name in the Nashville area.

In addition to a hefty rap sheet of his own, Haywood Devon owned several strip clubs in the Nashville area. Suspicion of drug trafficking and prostitution inside his clubs looked like it kept the Nashville police department on Devon’s doorstep every few weeks.

If Haywood Devon was the type of character Ginger’s mother associated with on a regular basis, he didn’t doubt she’d been afraid of more than a missed meal. Men like Devon didn’t bail anyone out of jail without expecting a favor in return. When those favors didn’t come through, the families of his debtors paid the price.

Two familiar voices drifted up to him from outside the window. Derek closed his laptop and watched Ginger and her sister hop out of their beaten-up, rusted orange pickup truck, and collect the paper grocery bags from its flatbed. Willa yelled something—obscene, no doubt—to Ginger over the back of the truck, and Ginger threw her head back in unrestrained laughter.

Derek’s stomach muscles went rigid at the sight of her. Walking through the doors of that ridiculous meat market last night, he’d sat down at the bar with every intention of engaging her in a normal conversation for once. One that didn’t end with both of them pissed off. Then he’d been forced to watch for over an hour as she fluttered her eyelashes and flaunted her body, giving every man within a hundred yards, including him, a hard-on that could cut through steel.

Possessiveness, insistent and primitive, had flowed through him like lava. Once they got back to their building, his plan had been to drive Ginger to the brink of orgasm and back off, leaving her as frustrated as he’d been watching her seduce the crowd at Sensation. Instead, he’d lost control, had come too close to fucking things up, and the knowledge sat like a weight in his stomach. He never lost control. Deciding to indulge himself had always been a conscious decision on his part, never an undeniable need, demanding to be met.

Then again, Ginger was the first woman he’d come across who bred such strong feelings in him. Derek couldn’t even guarantee the next time they found themselves alone would be any different. His reaction to her didn’t appear to be something he could control.

But the more he thought about it, the more he suspected restraint wasn’t the way to go with Ginger. She’d liked the way he spoke to her—
goddamn
that excited him—and she’d responded to his loss of control with an equally potent explosion of passion and need of her own. Recalling the way she’d wrapped her agile body around his like ivy, digging those sexy cowboy boots into his ass, made Derek groan aloud in his silent apartment.

She’d tasted like melted caramel, as if she’d been sucking on hard candy. And damn if those hot little whimpering noises she’d made against his ear hadn’t kept him awake all night.

As the object of his frustration and her little sister passed his door on their way to their apartment, Derek sighed.
You’re going to have to work for it a little
, she’d said last night. So he would try, with her definition in mind. But he’d make her work for it as well. Giving away the upper hand was not something Derek did under any circumstance.

He grabbed his keys and left his apartment.

…

Willa shoved a plastic sack of carrots into the refrigerator’s vegetable drawer, kicking it shut with her heavy boot.

Ginger visibly cringed. “Did you misplace your opposable thumbs, Willa? Jeez.”

Her sister looked thoughtful. “I may have left them in the produce aisle. Can I borrow the car to go get them?”

Ginger snorted a laugh. “As long as you have your middle fingers, you’ll survive. And I don’t think you can refer to the contraption we’re driving as a
car
. Steel death trap,
yes
. Truck,
maybe
. Car,
no
.”

“The General has never failed us. He’s a classic.”

“A classic piece of shit,” Ginger quipped, sticking a box of frozen lasagna in the freezer. “So,” she began casually, “three days of school so far. How’s it going?”

“Fine. I, uh, have to go to this stupid basketball game on Friday night for a photography class project.”

Willa
was opening up to her? Ginger strove for nonchalance. “You’re attending an actual sporting event? Careful you don’t burst into flames at the entrance.”

As usual, they both laughed on cue, but Ginger saw the shadow that clouded Willa’s expression. “I didn’t mean anything by that,” she said quickly. “It’s just, you know…you’re pretty outspoken about your hatred of organized rituals.”

“No, you’re right.” Her sister smiled. “I better call ahead to make sure they have a fire extinguisher handy.”

Something about her tone was still off. “Willa—”

A knock sounded at the door.

They both frowned. Willa made it to the door before Ginger could stop her, opening it a mere crack with the chain lock still in place. “State your business.”

A beat of silence. “Is there an
adult
at home?”

Ginger’s heart sped up at the sound of Derek’s deep timbre. What on earth could he be doing at their door? They may have practically had sex in the hallway last night, but that didn’t mean they had a cordial, “howdy neighbor” relationship.

She pasted a bored expression on her face, strode to the door, and unhooked the chain, opening the door to reveal him fully. Once again, he looked good enough to eat in a long-sleeved, gray thermal shirt and dark jeans. A silver badge was clipped to his belt.

“Can we help you, Lieutenant?”

His green eyes flickered lazily over her body, then back up to meet her eyes. “I think we know each other well enough by now to be on a first-name basis.”

She ignored Willa’s confused expression and sent Derek a sharp look. “If you insist,
Derek
. We are neighbors after all.”

“I do insist.”

“Well, then.”

“Are you guys trying to eye fuck each other to death? If so, can I
please
be excused?”

“
Willa!
”

Derek let out a deep, booming laugh. Willa rolled her eyes at Ginger’s horrified expression.

She whipped her head back around to a still-laughing Derek. “Is there something you need? I’m just about to cook dinner and then I’m heading out to work.”

His laughter faded at the mention of her job, but instead of commenting he held up a plastic bag she hadn’t noticed. “Don’t bother cooking. I brought Chinese.” Then he breezed past them into the apartment, leaving them gaping at his broad back.

Willa recovered first with a very uncharacteristic squeal. “Chinese! Thank God.”

Ginger stared dumbfounded as Derek and Willa began unloading white and red cartons from the plastic bag and placing them on the dining table. “Wait a minute. I’d planned on cooking chicken potpies. You love my potpies. Don’t you?”

“Oh honey, you know I love
everything
you make.” The
honey
gave her sister away. She’d never been the endearment type. And when had she started liking Chinese food?

Ginger sniffed, then followed them into the kitchen. “You could have said something,” she muttered as she yanked plates out of the cabinet. “Here I am now looking like a big potpie-peddling jackass.”

As they spooned spicy honey shrimp and orange chicken onto their plates, Ginger watched Derek warily across the table. He caught her staring and raised a questioning eyebrow. The man was clearly up to something and as soon as she caught him alone for a minute, she’d make him spill it. Until then, if he wanted to pretend this heartwarming little scene passed as normal, she’d go right along with it. “So, Derek. Tell us more about being a police lieutenant. It sounds so dangerous!”

He narrowed his eyes at her caustic tone, but answered anyway. “I work in the homicide division. It can be dangerous, yes, but it’s mostly lots of dead bodies.”

Ginger choked on a bite of egg roll and took a long sip of water to recover. Fortunately, the mention of dead bodies appeared to pique Willa’s interest.

“Do any of them ever wake up and scare the shit out of you?”

“No.”

“Do you have a catch phrase?”

Derek snorted. “No.”

Willa looked disappointed, but seemed to console herself with a cream-cheese-filled wanton.

“Is there a particular case you’re working on right now?” Ginger asked.

“Yes, actually. Two rival gangs have been taking each other out one member at a time. I’m tempted to let it continue since that would eventually solve the problem, but that’s not my job.”

Ginger looked at Derek with fresh eyes. He was too young to sound so cold. Earlier at the door he’d laughed, genuine humor temporarily replacing his usual stoicism. For that brief moment, he’d seemed free of his harsh responsibilities, but now his serious mask lay firmly in place once more.

“I read this article once about gang initiations. Some pretty scary stuff,” Willa commented. “Usually it’s robbing a convenience store or something, but other times new members have to take out a rival. Could that be what’s going on?

“You seem awfully interested.” Derek leaned back in his chair, eyeing her sister’s hair and clothes. “You thinking of starting up a gang of aspiring morticians or something?”

“
Derek!
” Ginger admonished, ready to jump across the table and strangle him. No one, save herself, insulted her sister and lived to tell the tale.

Willa’s mouth dropped open at the insult, but instead of impaling the good lieutenant with her chopsticks, she threw back her head and laughed.

Ginger had finally seen it all. Her sister making normal conversation, then laughing uproariously with a stranger. Something was definitely in the Chicago tap water.

“Not bad, Lieutenant Lo Mein. Not bad at all.”

Derek went back to eating without commenting on his new nickname, but Willa had apparently only gotten started. Ginger popped a dumpling into her mouth and leaned back to watch the show.

“Since you’ve earned my grudging respect
and
put a hilarious vision in my head of pasty, leather-clad gang members in dog collars roaming the streets, I feel you’ve earned the right to some helpful knowledge.
And
since you’ve come here on a Chinese food pilgrimage with the intention of getting laid—”

Ginger shot forward in her chair. “Willa!”

“—I’m going to take pity on you. My sister doesn’t date. You’re wasting your time.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, looking back and forth between her and Ginger. “Oh? And why is that?”

Alarm bells went off in Ginger’s head. “Willa, don’t you dare.”

Her sister ignored her plea as if she’d never spoken. In fact, Ginger was starting to feel like a spectator at a cage match. “That would be because of a series of incidents we refer to as the ‘Holy Trinity.’”

“Actually, it’s a really boring story and I don’t think Derek wants to hear it.”

He smiled at her. “Wrong.”

Willa speared a wonton with her chopstick. “Around the time of Ginger’s twenty-first birthday, she made the fateful decision to try her hand at dating. What would transpire in just three short days has been widely referred to as the three worst dates in human history. My sister has never
once
made it past the appetizer.” Holding up one skull-ring-adorned hand, she began ticking off Ginger’s humiliations. Ginger could only press her hands over her face and hang her head in defeat.

“The first man’s name was Huey Lewis. No joke and no relation. He casually dropped the fact that he operated a gerbil farm in his basement during predinner drinks. When Ginger laughed since he was
so obviously
pulling her leg, Huey Lewis proved his claim by pulling his pet gerbil, Cooter, out of his coat pocket and depositing him on the table.”

Willa ticked off a second finger. “Then there was Bill. Ginger’s coworker set them up on a blind date and when Willa showed up at the address he’d given over the phone, she found a church. It turned out to be Ginger’s very own ambush baptism. Something new the congregation, all of whom were present, were trying out in an attempt to reach out to the community.”

Ginger groaned loudly, then stood up and began shoveling empty food containers into a garbage bag. Anything to avoid the amusement on Derek’s face.

“Willa, I really think that’s enough. I mean it.” She even stamped her booted heel for emphasis.

“Sis, you can’t really expect me to leave out Walter the eunuch.”

Derek had just taken a sip of water when Willa dropped that bombshell. Her sister had to stand up to pound him on the back until he could breathe normally again. Served him right. If his intentions were to get laid, laughing at tales of her humiliating foray into the dating world was not the way to go about it.

“All right, if everyone is finished amusing themselves at my expense, I have to get ready for work. Surely you have some dead folks to get to, Lieutenant?”

He didn’t take the hint. As Willa flopped onto the couch to fiddle with her camera, Derek circled the apartment, inspecting everything from the locks on the windows to her current decoupage project. She’d picked up the oversize wooden treasure chest at a yard sale down the street yesterday and began work immediately, giving it a childhood theme. Upon seeing it, she’d envisioned a child storing his toys inside and it inspired her. Using parenting magazines and children’s activity books as her guide, she’d cut out everything from teddy bears to cartoon characters to accomplish the theme.