Searching for Disaster (11 page)

“Your place is nice,” she called out. “Did you say you renovated it?”

He walked over and handed her a glass of water with lemon. “Yeah; I bought it for a clearance sticker price. It was run-down and abandoned, so the bank sold it to me. I redid the front porch, gutted the kitchen, and built a deck on the back.”

“Yourself?”

He grinned. “Some of it. The other stuff I hired contractors for, but I learned a lot. I like to fiddle with stuff around the house. It's soothing.”

Izzy imagined him stripped down, hammering at a wall, tool belt hanging low around his waist to show off his impressive abs, and felt a bit woozy. She avoided his gaze, knowing his police skills were too sharp. If he scented weakness, he might try to take advantage.

Her inner voice laughed with mocking hilarity. Yeah, right. She'd end up being the one to take advantage of him. When it came to Liam, she reacted like a sex-starved, love-struck teen at a simple touch. Why did it feel so good? Like she was alive again after existing in a black-and-white world?

“Sit. Let them play. Forgive me if I start snoring in the middle of a sentence.”

She relaxed. The man was in no shape to take advantage. She set her drink on the coffee table, tucked her leg underneath her, and leaned against the cool leather. He sat next to her, leaving a comfortable few inches between them. Still, his body threw off delicious waves of masculine heat. “You going to work tomorrow?” he asked.

“No. I took one extra day so I could get Leia settled in. You?”

“Same thing. I had the weekend free and got McCoy to take over my shift tomorrow. Think I can train Han in one more day?”

“No. We're screwed.”

He sighed. “Yeah. At least I'm not on nights for a while, and I already lined up my neighbor's daughter to come take care of him in the early afternoon.”

“I'm lucky, too. Arilyn's grandfather said he could help during the week if I'm working late, and I can go home on my lunch hour to take care of her.”

“Patrick is a good guy. We hang out at Ray's Billiards together. He's a trip. Can hold his damn whiskey better than any of the guys at the station.”

Izzy saw the moment he stiffened, as if realizing how easy it was to talk about getting drunk. “You know I don't care, right, Liam? Drinking is a way of socializing. If I hadn't overindulged on a consistent basis, I could enjoy a drink or two, too.”

He tilted his head, studying her face. “Are you also an alcoholic?”

“It wasn't as much the alcohol as the drugs, but I decided to cut that out of my life also. One tempts the other. My father is an alcoholic, and since it's been documented that genes could have an effect, I don't need to tempt fate any more than I did.”

“Smart.”

She liked the way he took her answers and understood. He asked when he was curious, not afraid to be real.

A crash to the floor made her jump.

She craned her neck around as Liam cursed softly and headed to inspect the damage. “Okay, you little monsters, it's a good thing that didn't break.” He picked up the metal picture frame from the side table. Scooping up Leia and Han, he walked to the center of the room where they could be carefully watched. “Play over here and—ah shit!”

Izzy winced and watched as Leia made a familiar noise and retched all over his shirt.

Slapping a hand firmly over her mouth, she held back the giggles ready to explode from the look on Liam's face. Disgust, horror, and shock combined as he stared mutely down at the puppy, who now looked like she felt much better and was giving him the famous look all females did when they were in trouble.

Brown puppy eyes wide with apology, she whimpered and nudged his hand, licking gently.

“I assume she was nervous?” he asked steadily.

She tried to keep a straight face. “Yep. Arilyn said the vet checked her out thoroughly and declared it a nervous habit she'll grow out of.”

“Fantastic.” He plopped them down, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh, I smell.” Pulling the fabric away from his body, he peeled off his shirt. “Let me throw this in the wash; be right back.”

She refused to watch his naked retreating back, so she sipped her water and watched the siblings play. She heard the faucet run and then quiet footsteps returning. “I'm making you pick her up next time until she grows out of it.”

“Sorry, I figured she . . .” Izzy trailed off, words deserting her.

He hadn't put on another shirt.

As he stood in front of her, chest bare, she shook with a desperate need to close the distance and touch him. Whorls of golden hair lay scattered over a muscled chest, tightly defined. His abs looked rock-hard. Her fingers curled into tight fists, craving to trace the line of hair down the middle that disappeared under the waistband of his shorts. He looked like a Greek god, feet braced, hands on hips, not aware that his masculine beauty and strength would cause any woman's heart to stop, stutter, and restart.

He caught her reaction and stilled. The air between them became charged. Burning heat shot from his aqua-blue eyes and he caught his breath, as if trying to make a decision. She stared at him, helpless to move.

“Keep looking at me that way, and we're going to have a problem,” he warned softly.

Izzy jumped, tearing her gaze away with painful effort. She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

“I'm not.” He sat down beside her but kept the space between them. “I just don't want to feel punch-drunk from lack of sleep when I finally get you in my bed.”

The declaration was easy and confident. She jerked her head back around and glared. “That's not gonna happen even when you're well rested, buddy.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “Why do you think we both ended up in Verily?”

She thought about it, then shrugged. “Coincidence.”

“No such thing. Didn't they talk in rehab about life's paths having meaning and meeting certain people in your life when it was meant to be?”

Uneasy, she shifted her weight. She was tempted to close down the whole conversation, but something urged her forward. “Actually, they did. We were taught to see purpose for our choices and to believe we are at this exact moment because it's in the bigger plan. How did you know?”

“I studied a lot about drug use in the academy. I felt if I knew as much about the people using, and their struggles to get clean, it would help me be a better cop. I've gone to Narcotics Anonymous meetings.”

Of course he had. Because that was the type of man he was. Emotion washed over her. He was so . . . good. Every action was done with the purpose of being better, digging deeper, giving more. “I'm not surprised,” she said quietly. “You, Liam Devine, are an extraordinary man.”

Shock filled his beautiful blue eyes. “I wish you could see as clearly as I do, Isabella. You're just as extraordinary. And I believe we met again in Verily because our story wasn't over yet. I believe it's just beginning.”

The breath left her body. How could she fight this man? His words and his actions and his physical presence pulled her down like an undertow, trying to overwhelm her. And as she fought to swim, struggling to pry herself away from this extreme connection, Izzy began to wonder why she was trying to fight so hard in the first place.

Silence fell over the room.

Suddenly, she realized silence wasn't a good thing when there were two puppies in the same room. She jerked upward. “Oh no, Liam; it's quiet. Where are they?”

He flew off the couch, frantically looking around, then stopped. A grin curved his lips. “You gotta see this.”

She rose and looked over. The puppies were inside Han's crate, heads together, paws entwined, snuggled within the blanket. Low snores came from the cage. “They're exhausted,” she said with amusement. “I think that's one of the cutest things I've ever seen.”

“Agreed. Now let's see if
we
can finally get some sleep.” He quietly closed the crate door and latched it, then turned. “Take my bed; I'll take the couch.”

“No, I'm fine with the couch. A few hours are all I need.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Umm, to be honest, I don't drop into sleep easily, even when I'm tired. I need to relax with TV first.”

“I have the perfect thing for both of us.” He headed to the television, slid in a DVD, and started it. He walked to the closet and returned moments later with a large blanket and a small pillow. “Mind if I watch a bit with you?”

“Of course not.”

He settled on the other side of the couch, propping his feet up on the leather ottoman. The blanket was big enough for two, so she rested her pillow on the arm of the sofa and stretched out under the warm, fuzzy material. As the credits for
The
Empire Strikes Back
scrolled across the screen, a yawn split her lips.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered.

“What?”

“Quiet. Not a sound. I want to weep with joy.”

She smiled, tucked the blanket under her chin, and began laughing.

“What's so funny?” he asked curiously.

“Your blanket. It's chartreuse.”

He gave her a fierce frown. “That session was confidential. And I got that as a gift.”

“Sure.” He grabbed her feet and tickled her through the blanket, forcing small giggles to erupt. “Okay, I'm sorry!”

“Forgiven. This time.” But he was grinning back at her, and Izzy wanted to touch his face, cup his jaw, trace the lush curve of his lips, press her forehead to his. A shudder of want swept through her, so she turned back to the movie and tried to remind herself it was all for the best.

Soon, she fell asleep.

chapter nine

I
ZZY SURFACED OUT
OF A DEEP SLEEP,
fuzzy tendrils of drowsiness still clinging to keep her from being fully awake. Still dark. Rustling behind her. A low, husky voice whispering. She blinked, trying to remember, and then her surroundings clicked into her awareness.

“Liam?” she whispered, shifting on the couch.

“Shhh, go back to sleep.” A latch locked into place. Movement came from her right, and then he was kneeling at her side. “It's only five a.m. I took the puppies out and they settled right back in.”

“You walked them both?”

“Of course. You need your sleep.” He reached out and stroked back the tangled hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Do you want me to carry you into my bed? I can sleep out here.”

“No.” Her hand lifted of its own accord to cup his cheek. She caressed his rough stubble, then traced the line of his jaw, over his lips. So soft. He pressed a kiss to her fingers.

“Sweetheart, you're half-asleep. Rest.”

God, he felt so good. His breath held the scent of mint. Had he brushed his teeth this morning? Even in the shadows, his pale eyes glowed like the embers of a fire ready to flare up. No man had ever gazed at her with such intensity, such devotion. Why was she fighting so hard again? To give him away to another woman? Oh, but how her heart ached to have him to herself for just a little while, without worrying about the future. Without worrying she'd never be enough for him. Her other hand reached out to stroke his thick hair, like rough silk. A slight groan rumbled from his chest, now covered in a soft T-shirt. “You feel so good,” she whispered. “I'm so tired of fighting this.”

He stiffened. “I don't want you to fight it, Isabella. I just want to hold you. Bring you pleasure. But not when you don't know what you're doing.”

Maybe it was the dark, and the loneliness that cut through her at the thought of him walking away. Maybe it was the culmination of every moment spent with him, or the slowly mounting hunger growing inside of her to be part of him again. Izzy had no idea—she only knew she wanted him so badly, her entire being shook with pure need.

She tilted her head up. Moved closer. Slowly, afraid to break the spell, she pressed her forehead to his, her hands stroking his rough cheeks, tracing the plump line of his lower lip. He shuddered against her.

“I know exactly what I'm doing,” she murmured as her lips met his.

She kissed him, long and slow. He let her lead as she savored the taste of him, the heat of his mouth, the flavor of his tongue, the soft firmness of his lips. With a growl, he slanted his mouth to take the kiss deeper, pressing her back against the cushions, and climbed on top of her.

Every hard muscle cradled her curves. They feasted on each other as his hands explored her body, cupping her breasts, his lips breaking free from her mouth to nibble and suck on the length of her neck. Her hands gripped his shoulders, looking for an anchor, and his teeth bit delicately against her tattoo, causing her to cry out. He soothed with his tongue, murmuring her name, and then a fierce storm of need crashed through her, and Izzy became crazed to touch and taste every part of his body.

Ripping the blanket aside, he tugged off her clothes in seconds, whisking her out of her tiny panties until she lay naked underneath him. Tearing off his shirt, he threw it on the floor with the pile of clothes. Already damp and throbbing with arousal, she arched against him, his erection notched perfectly between her thighs. He rocked slowly, dragging against her clit, the soft cotton the only barrier between them. She panted and dug her fingernails into his hard shoulders, urging him to go faster.

But he ignored her, keeping the pace slow and steady as his head dipped to brush his lips against the hard tip of a nipple. With teasing strokes, he plucked and licked until her breasts were so sensitive, one flick to her clit would make her shatter.

As if he knew, he laughed low in his throat and continued his torture, sucking on her nipple while his fingers played her body like a maestro. Stroking the swell of her body, the curve of her hip, he shifted his weight, pinning her wide open while his fingers dipped into the crease between her legs, gathering the wetness and pressing against her dripping entrance, refusing to go any further.

She exploded into a rage of need. Sinking her teeth into his meaty bicep, she worked her arms free and shoved down his shorts, wrapping her hands around the hot, hard shaft to rub and stroke, sliding over the wet tip where his own arousal leaked.

He cursed and bit her nipple in punishment. Jerked against her hands even as he slid his fingers deep into her pussy, giving her only a taste of what she craved. “Witch. I waited too long for this, dammit. I refuse to come in your hands like a horny teen.”

“I like you as a horny teen,” she teased, gasping when he increased the pace of his fingers, brushing the edge of her needy clit. “It hurts, Liam. I need you so much it hurts.”

“Fuck. You're so hot and wet. What do you do to me?”

“What you do to me.”

“I need to see you come. I need to know this is all for me. Don't close your eyes.”

His sexy demand wrested shudders from her body, and she twisted to get closer but he pinned her down with an easy strength, sliding downward, parting her swollen lips and dipping his head between her thighs.

“Liam!”

His lips and tongue worked magic on her dripping core. His fingers curled and pumped into her with the perfect amount of pressure, bringing her right to the edge of climax, then keeping her there, hanging an inch from the abyss. Her heels dug into the couch cushions. He flicked his tongue against her nub, then gave a long, slow lick down her slit, lengthening the tension until a knot formed in her belly and every muscle clenched against the rising orgasm threatening to crash over her.

“Oh, please,” she wrung out, twisting her hips with desperation.

“Eyes on me, Isabella.”

Forcing her lids to lift, she looked down at him, golden head bent over her, ravishing her body with a ferocious eroticism that racked her with convulsions. His lips opened and he sucked her clit hard, plunging his fingers deep into her pussy.

She came, exploding into tiny pieces as she crammed her hand in her mouth to muffle her screams. He kept up the pressure and she jerked with her release. He let her ride out a second tiny orgasm until she collapsed beneath him.

She heard him mutter something under his breath. She watched him with a bone-deep satisfaction as he tore open a condom wrapper, shoved his shorts all the way down, and covered himself. Grasping her ankles, he pushed her legs higher and farther apart until her feet rested on his broad shoulders. Poised at her entrance, he sunk his cock inside her inch by slow inch, watching her face with a shattering intensity that ramped back up her arousal until she felt as if she'd never even had the first two orgasms. Finally, he stopped, breathing hard, buried inside her wet heat.

Sweat dripped from his brow. Their gazes locked, her body not only welcoming him but squeezing him hard, as if frantic to never let him go again. In that moment, her heart burst open, and a gorgeous light flowed into her veins, making tears sting her eyes.

“You've always been mine,” he said.

Then he moved. Back and forth, ramming his hips to go stronger, deeper, plunging in and out with a ferocious rhythm that warned her he'd leave nothing of her behind—he'd strip down every wall and rip away every hiding spot, forcing her to surrender completely.

And she did. She gave it all back to him, with the sting of her nails and the bite of her teeth, with the ragged cries of his name and the thrust of her hips. And when they both exploded together, he wrapped his arms tight around her body, sheltering her from her very self, keeping her safe within the circle.

Racked by aftershocks of pleasure, she pressed her head to his shoulder and knew she would never, ever be the same person again.

He tugged the blanket over them, adjusted their position, and soon she was asleep again in his arms.

FOR THE FIRST
TIME
in his life, Devine was terrified.

He'd been scared before. In the academy, he'd worried he wouldn't be good enough for the force and would never achieve his dream of being a cop. On a drug bust, a guy had pulled a gun and shot at him, and in a flash he wondered if he was going to die. When his brother was in a car crash and his mother had called him to tell him the news, terror had struck deep as he worried if his brother would make it.

But he'd never fallen this hard for a woman and realized she might never be able to give him what he needed.

Now he knew. She was the one for him. The one he'd been waiting for to finally feel complete—just like in those damn chick flicks and romance novels.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

There really was such a thing as soul mates and love at first sight. He'd proven it.

Stone would laugh his ass off if he had any idea.

Devine smothered a groan and made coffee while he waited for her to wake up. The puppies were happily playing with some old shoelaces and a bone after eating a crapload of dog food. But they both managed to actually pee outside and Devine almost did a happy dance right there on the public sidewalk. With a little sleep and that small accomplishment, he felt more hopeful he could wrangle this fatherhood thing.

Problem was, he'd do it best with Isabella by his side.

Everything was better with her. After last night, he confirmed the last question hovering in his mind. Had the connection he'd felt during sex been a beautiful dream, or could it be re-created?

The answer cracked him in the head like the barrel of a baseball bat.

No, it hadn't been a dream. Yes, it could be re-created. Yes, it was even better than the first time and gave him a glimpse of what their relationship could grow to become.

Would she give him a chance after this morning?

Or would she walk away again?

He poured himself a mug of coffee and headed toward the back deck. The puppies raced over to follow him, and he opened the sliding doors and stepped outside. The sharp cleanness of fall had closed in. Soon the leaves would turn, offering a blazing palette of golds and reds in the woods behind his house. It was one of his favorite seasons.

He leaned against the railing, took in the scenery, and sipped his coffee.

He could push. Stalk her. But how long could he keep up the pursuit if she was intent on sacrificing him to someone else? Was there a way to convince her she was everything he wanted?

He wished he could talk to someone. Crap—maybe he'd have to trust this awful vulnerability with Stone and hope to God he didn't torture him for the rest of their natural lives.

“Morning.”

He turned at the husky voice. Wrapped up in the blanket, she held her own cup of coffee and came to stand beside him. A tentative smile curved her lips. In the streaming morning light, she took his breath away. A smattering of freckles dusted the bridge of her nose. Her bow lips were swollen from his kisses, and her gorgeous skin was unmarred by makeup. Crazy brown curls flew out in every direction. Her dark-blue eyes brimmed with the quiet satisfaction of a woman well loved.

He smiled slowly back. “Morning. I can make you tea. I know you don't like coffee.”

“This is good. Sometimes I enjoy a cup here and there. Morning, Han; morning, Leia,” she crooned as the pups raced over to give her kisses. She laughed, scratching their bellies, bestowing love, then straightened back up when they ran off to play.

They sipped the hot brew, relaxing into a comfortable silence. “I love the deck. I had no idea you had so much privacy here.”

“Yeah, I usually grill and eat out here, and there are about five acres of woods behind that are protected so no one will be able to build. Another reason I bought the property. I hate neighbors on top of me.”

“Yeah, it took me forever to warm up to Mrs. Blackfire, but Arilyn seems to have a great relationship with her now, so she rarely bothers me.”