Temperature's Rising (13 page)

She rested her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. “I look what?”

The words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t very well tell her she looked virginal, because she didn’t. She looked sexy . . . alluring. Why
had
he fallen for the line Mike gave him? His gaze swept over her. She looked anything but innocent. She looked hot.

She wore some kind of silky-looking blouse. A deep blue color that matched her eyes. Her white skirt was short and complemented her incredibly long legs. And heels. What was there about a woman in heels?

Virginal? He didn’t think so.

“Let’s just leave it at the fact I shouldn’t have believed Mike. I’m new. I suppose everyone figured it would be a great joke.”

“So maybe you’ve been wrong about more than one thing?”

He didn’t think so, but how could he make her understand that she was jeopardizing the whole operation.

“You’re right about me wanting you to leave, and that I was a little underhanded.”

“A little?”

He let her snide remark slide and countered with a 108

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question of his own. “How many undercover operations have you been on?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip as if she were trying to figure out if he’d come up with a new tactic. She finally took a deep breath that made it hard for him to stay focused when her breasts strained against the material.

“None.”

He cleared his throat. “There, you’ve answered your own question. You don’t have any experience. If you care about your father’s job, then you’ll let me do mine.” She leaned against the edge of the counter and crossed her arms in front of her. “The reason I’m staying is because I do care.” She glanced at her hands before meeting his gaze once again. “If I think I’m causing more harm than good, I’ll leave. You have my word, and the word of a Nelson shouldn’t be taken lightly.” Now what should he do? He didn’t want her here. Not because he was afraid she’d get hurt—he’d be able to keep her safe—but she was too much of a distraction. He needed all his attention on the case.

One look at her set features and he knew she wasn’t giving him a choice. Jessica was here to stay, unless she thought she might be hindering the operation. He’d been afraid of this.

He took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. “Just stay out of my way,” he warned and turned on his heel.

“I’ll bring in the rest of the bags.” Now what the hell was he going to do with Jessica in the house? Especially since he knew she wasn’t innocent like Mike and the rest of the guys had sworn.

As he approached the front door, he stumbled. Visions of her naked and curled next to him in the heart-shaped bed upstairs danced across his mind. There was only one bed. Sweat beaded his brow as he fought the image and hurried outside.

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Damn it, he was here to do a job. Not get laid.

He cast a disgruntled glance toward the house next door. They damn well better screw up and give him the evidence he’d need for a conviction, or he’d be the one committing crimes!

Chapter 8

Jessica reached across the kitchen table for another slice of pizza. “So what are we supposed to do? Just sit here?”

He turned from watching the house next door and looked at her. “No one ever said it would be exciting.

Most surveillance work is actually pretty boring.” He raised his can of soda and took a long drink, then set it back on the table.

“So what are we watching for?”

He hesitated.

“What’s the matter? Do you think I’ll blow your case if I know what to look for? I’m assuming, anything suspicious. Like if they all load up in a huge truck and take off.”

She was a semipatient person and could wait him out.

He caved under the onslaught of her unwavering stare.

Worked every time.

“The less you’re involved, the better. But yes, anything unusual . . . visitors. I doubt they’ll be that obvious, but one never knows. They did rob Mrs. Huntley’s house in broad daylight. But your father thinks someone else is TEMPERATURE’S RISING

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calling the shots. That’s the one he wants to catch.” He nodded toward the house next door. “These lame-brains are penny-ante stuff. He wants the big fish.” She leaned back in her chair and stared at the house next door. At this rate, they would be here well into the next century. Maybe she could shake things up a bit. “Why don’t I run next door and borrow a cup of sugar . . .”

“No.”

She sat forward. “You haven’t even heard my plan.”

“No. This isn’t your case. You’re lucky I’m letting you stay here at all.” He wiped his hands on a paper towel and tossed it back on the table before standing.

“I want to help and you know you’re going to need it.

You can’t watch the house twenty-four hours a day.” He was really starting to piss her off, the way he treated her like she’d never patrolled the streets, and now she had to tilt her head to look up at him. She seriously doubted he would be willing to rub away the crick she was going to get in her neck . . . but thinking about him massaging her back was kind of nice. She bet he could do more than get rid of a tight muscle.

“I don’t need your help,” he countered.

Nothing like having a bucket of ice water thrown on her fantasy. The man was all business. Okay, she could be businesslike, too. “What would it hurt if I just went next door and borrowed a cup of sugar?” She stood—besides straining her neck when she was sitting, she didn’t like the way he towered over her. Was he trying to intimidate her?

It wasn’t much better after she came to her feet.

Thoughts of intimidation scattered as her gaze drifted over him. She liked the way he dressed. Sort of casual . . . relaxed . . . approachable. Too bad it was all a facade. This man was the least approachable person she’d ever had the misfortune to meet.

But a couple more steps and she could be in his arms.

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Would he kiss her the way he had earlier when they were on the front porch and he thought someone was watching them? How much of it had been an act? She wasn’t a fool.

She knew when a man wanted her, and Conor had been aroused.

“Stop.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Now she was thoroughly confused.

He waved his arms. “All soft and sexy. Like you want me to kiss you, to make love to you. You know . . .
the
look
. I’m here to do a job, and I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that.”

“You really have an ego problem, don’t you? I’ve never once encouraged your kisses. If I’m not mistaken, you haven’t been able to keep your hands off me. As far as I can tell, I’m not the problem, you are.” She glared at him, but lost a margin of her anger when she saw the way he was looking at her—like he wanted to devour her. The way his glance skimmed over her body, she didn’t think she’d mind being devoured. His gaze began its trek back to her face.

Heat flooded her body as his languid look lingered . . .

touching . . . heating her body until it burned with need.

She drew in a ragged breath.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“What?” he asked.

“Looking at
me
like that.” His brow wrinkled. “Like I said, how can I concentrate with you in the house? If you don’t want your father to lose his job, then you need to leave.” She shook her head. “You know that won’t happen. It would blow your cover.”

He scooped up the paper plates and empty cans, cram-ming them into the trash can. “Then we have a problem,” he said, a gruff edge in his voice.

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“I don’t have the problem, you do.” After closing the pizza box and sticking it in the refrigerator, she grabbed a paper towel and wet it, squeezing out the excess water before wiping the table. His frustration washed over her in waves, but she wouldn’t leave. He’d just have to get used to her being around.

Of all the men she’d crossed paths with, why did she feel drawn to this one? A cop, no less. She didn’t want to feel what he made her feel. Her only concern should be her father’s job, not what Conor thought about her.

“Stay out of my way, then,” he warned.

“Believe me, that won’t be a problem.” She clenched her teeth to keep from saying something she might later regret. On second thought, she didn’t think she’d regret a damn thing. At this rate, she’d have to make a dental appointment. All her teeth would be ground to nubs before they caught the person masterminding the robberies.

Maybe saying what was on her mind would be the best thing for her.

Conor turned on his heel and strode to the other room.

She took a deep breath and inhaled, then counted to ten.

Didn’t work.

She took another deep breath and forced herself to slowly exhale. “Yom-da-da-da-da.” That didn’t work, either.

What she wanted to do was stomp her foot and throw something. She grabbed a dry paper towel instead, and, standing at the counter, began shredding it.

Oh, she’d like to rip his head off. She tore off the top half of the towel. And his arm, she thought, tearing off a corner. She pursed her lips. He was treating her like she was a civilian. She tore a leg, then the other leg. She ripped again and again.

She was left with one long piece of paper towel. Her eyebrows rose. There was only one part left unamputated.

Her thighs quivered. Lightly, she stroked the last piece of 114

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the towel that was intact. It would be a shame to make it shorter. She cringed at the thought.

“By the way,” Conor said as he charged back into the kitchen.

She whirled around, keeping her hands and the ripped pieces of paper towel hidden behind her.

“Yes,” she squeaked.

He frowned, but didn’t comment. “If you decide to leave the house, let me know first.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“You okay?”

“Never better.” Her smile wobbled.

He nodded and left the room. She breathed a sigh of relief. It had been stupid to throw a silly temper tantrum.

What had she been thinking?

Aunt Gloria had always told her that when she got angry, just shred a paper towel. She’d shredded many paper towels over the years.

Speaking of her aunt, though—she grabbed her phone and punched in her number.

Ripping a paper towel nearly always worked. She should just stick with chanting—no incriminating evidence to hide. Hmm, maybe she’d better stock up on a few more rolls of paper towels, though.

“Hello.”

“Auntie, did you by any chance have a heart-shaped bed delivered? Along with chocolate and other items meant for newlyweds?”

“Is that what arrived in the truck?” Laughter was evident in her aunt’s voice. Her suspicion grew.

“Aunt Gloria . . .”

“Wasn’t me, dear. I’d bet my next paycheck it was your father. You know how badly he wants to see you settled down with a family of your own.” She was right—it could only have been her father.

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Scammed again. She talked to her aunt a few more minutes, then closed the phone before scooping up the dis-emboweled paper towel and stuffing it down deep into the trash, just under the paper plates.

She had to admit, shredding the towel made her feel better. Conor would probably think she’d lost her mind, but as long as her frustration was gone, she didn’t care.

Now all she had to do was persuade him she could be of some use. That wasn’t going to be easy since he acted like she couldn’t take care of herself. She was a damn good cop. She only had to convince him of that fact. But how, when he wouldn’t even listen to her?

Her cell phone began playing “God Bless America.” She grabbed it off the table and flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart, so are you and Conor settled in okay?”

She flopped down into the nearest chair and crossed her legs. “Oh, yeah, we’re all settled in. I noticed you were pretty scarce all week. You weren’t hiding, were you?”

“Hiding? Why would I be hiding?” He didn’t fool her for a minute. “Let’s see. Maybe because you’re trying to sabotage your own stakeout? I mean, really, a heart-shaped bed? Godiva Chocolates? A bearskin rug? What exactly are you trying to do? I’ve already told you Conor has no interest in me.”

“Should I fire him? Get someone in there who does?” She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. “Very funny.”

“But you do like him, don’t you?”

“He pisses me off. I think the feeling is mutual.”

“Good!”

She could almost see him rubbing his hands together.

“Dad, are you losing your hearing? I told you he irritates the hell out of me.”

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“Yeah, your mom said the same thing about me when we first met. It’s called chemistry. I told you to pay attention in that class.”

“Yeah, well, I’d bet my real estate license Conor doesn’t want to get involved with our family. Did you know Mike and some of the others told Conor I was practically a virgin?”

“You’re not?”

Heat flooded her face. Sometimes she forgot she was talking to her father and not her best friend. On more than one occasion, she’d had to extricate herself from a sticky situation. Like right now. “Could we change the subject?

I know you didn’t call just to talk about my love life.” Then again, he probably had.

When their conversation ended, she still had no idea what he’d wanted. She had a feeling her first assumption was right. He’d wanted to find out if she and Conor had fallen in love. Her dad really had to stop obsessing about her love life. She closed the phone and set it back on the table. With a deep sigh she wondered what she was going to do about him.

“Jess is going to kill you for meddling one of these days. Either that or disown you,” Gloria told her brother.

Joe Nelson didn’t even try to stop his grin. Sure, he felt pretty smug. Had good reason, too. “You forget, sister, I checked Conor Richmond out before I hired him.

He’s a good cop. Exactly the kind of man our Jess needs in her life.” He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.