Guardian (8 page)

As she waited, her eyes fell on her cell phone peeking out of her purse a simple hand’s reach away. Without even stopping to question why, she thumbed through her neighborhood directory and dialed Madison Palmiere’s number to look for David.

*    *    *

Madison Palmiere bit her lover’s shoulder to keep from crying out as her third orgasm of the night pulsed through her. After a string of crummy relationships that had left her thinking she was frigid, she was enjoying the hell out of her footloose single status.

Or at least that’s what she thought at moments like this, with bliss shimmering through her and her lover gasping damn near desperate praise against her ear.

Her cell phone rang by the bed.

“Shit,” she moaned.

“Let it ring,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his hips pumping as he rode the last waves of his own release.

She grappled along the bedside table and thumbed the silence button on her telephone. Her hands found him again fast, gripping his arms, biceps rippling under her fingertips. She rocked her hips against his fluidly, finishing him, as delicious anticipation licked through her because she knew he was far from done for the night.

Captain Caleb Tate was fifteen years younger than she was. But since she was at her sexual peak, they synched up in bed a helluva lot better than she had with her last husband, who’d been twenty years her senior. Or her first husband, who’d been a selfish lover when he was sober and a fumbling non-finisher when he was drunk, which had happened most of the time in their last year together.

Or her high school boyfriend who’d thought it was cool to slap her around and she’d been too insecure to walk away.

This new relationship with a younger lover was definitely the way for her to go. She was in control, satisfied, and
free.

Caleb’s final shout echoed through her room, deep and carnal and delicious. He rolled from her onto his back, panting, his wrist over his eyes.

Madison flung her arms wide, replete. For now. She let her eyes rove unabashedly—from his buzzed fair hair to his tanned skin glistening with sweat. Six feet three inches of big blond man sprawled, taking up more than
half the space in her king-size bed. She’d been sleeping with him for two months but hadn’t tired of looking at him yet.

She liked their clandestine meetings—keeping their affair a secret, at her request, from the start. Earlier in the summer, he’d come by the house looking for David one Saturday afternoon, but David hadn’t been around. Caleb had looked so shattered about the accident and the upcoming trial, she’d invited him up to share a pizza and a glass of Merlot. He had
not
gotten drunk, and he’d been far from fumbling.

Exhaling hard, Caleb swung his feet to the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to get a glass of water. Want something?”

He had the quaintest way of never saying he was going to the bathroom to ditch his condom, always couching it in a gentlemanly offer to get something for her. He was so damn sweet.

“I’m good. Thank you, though.” She touched his back, scoring her nails lightly down his spine as he left her. Her eyes lingered on the flex of his taut butt as he walked across the room. She’d redone the room after her divorce, spent a fortune, and sent the bill to her cheating ex who’d “interviewed” his next trophy wife on their bed.

Forget traditional elegance, she’d gone for making a slamming statement in eclectic contemporary: yellow walls with brown and gold accessories. Most important, a brand-new chic platform bed.

She gathered up the down coverlet to her chest and reached for the phone to check the missed call. She thumbed through the directory and found…

Sophie Campbell?

“Madison?” Caleb stood in the open bathroom
doorway, so mouthwateringly naked, she almost pitched the phone to the floor. “Something wrong?”

“It’s Sophie Campbell—her son has started playing with Haley Rose.”

His face closed up tight. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and pulled a half smile. “I didn’t realize you were friendly with the enemy.”

“We’re not friends—the kids are. Haley Rose met the Campbell boy on the school bus last week.” She pressed the phone to her chest. “I should call her back. It could be something about the children.”

“Then your brother should handle it when he gets home from playing goofy golf with his daughter.” He dropped a knee onto the bed and crawled back over her, kissing her stomach and plucking the phone from her slackening grip. “How about I distract you while we wait for my mojo to kick in again?”

“Tempting.” Definitely. “But no thank you.” She grabbed his ear and tugged him upward.

“Damn it, Madison, that hurts.” He stretched out beside her.

“Then don’t try to manipulate me.” She snatched the phone back from him. “I enjoy helping with Haley Rose. She’s like my one shot at motherhood, except I never have to change diapers or pay for college. Sweet deal for me.”

“You could have kids.”

If he thought this line of conversation would distract her from making that call, he was sorely mistaken. “I could. But I won’t.” She smacked his hip. “Now get out of here before my brother gets back and finds out I’m banging the brains out of one of his junior officers.”

“We could tell him. We
should
tell him.” He sat up and leaned against the headboard.

“That would take all the illicit fun out of sneaking around.”

“Sure.” His gray eyes went bleak. “And it’s not like there’s any benefits to dating a guy who could be in Leavenworth in a couple of weeks.”

“Hey,” she soothed, pressing her hand to his chest. “You’re going to beat this bogus charge.”

“You can’t know that.” His voice went ragged as the real world slithered in as it always did.

“And yet, I do. My brother’s certain, so I believe in you, too.” She kissed him, closemouthed but lingering, wishing she was as confident as she pretended to be. “Now scram, and be sure to use the side exit like a good, smoking-hot boy toy.”

His smile was a big lie for her benefit, and she knew it. But he still tossed on his clothes and left. For a handful of heartbeats she considered going after him, thought about what she would say. And kept on considering until his headlights swept out of the driveway. For the best.

She clicked on the missed call and phoned Sophie back.

*    *    *

Someone broke into my home
. Sophie’s terse voice from the phone echoed in David’s head as he drove to her house.

He’d pulled into the driveway with Haley Rose only to be met by his sister in her robe. She’d thrust her cell phone at him.
Sophie.
He’d passed over Haley Rose to his sister and jumped back into his SUV. He raced over those four blocks in half the time.

He jammed his foot against the brakes. The Scout jerked to a halt outside of Sophie’s lake house. Where the hell were the cops? He flung aside the seat belt. He hefted
his gear bag from the back where he’d left it after work and pulled out his 9 mm from the bottom.

She had sounded composed. He wouldn’t have expected otherwise.

He tried to reassure himself by focusing on her calmly spoken words. Instead, he kept hearing the tiny hitch in her breathing, too like the moment she’d lost her composure in the office. She was scared. Damn scared. He wasn’t too steady, either.

She’d said the intruder had left, that she was okay and had already called the cops. He should have just stayed on the phone with her—but he’d thrust the cell back to his sister and left without hesitation. He sidestepped footprints leading away from the house.

Adult footprints? Male?

David took the stairs two at a time. The lock dangled from splintered wood. Until that moment, he’d hoped she’d just overreacted to a limb thumping a window or an owl swooping by.

“Sophie?” He nudged the door until it creaked open an inch. “It’s just me. David.”

Waiting for her to answer gave him too much time to think. Had the perp come back? Was she hurt?

David stepped to the side, gun gripped in his hand and held low. He didn’t want to startle her, but if she didn’t answer in ten seconds…

Seven. Eight.
David tensed.
Nine. Ten.
He pivoted around.

The door swung wide. “Hello, David. Thanks for coming over.”

He sagged against the porch railing. Her casual greeting almost made him laugh. Then he noticed her mussed appearance. Tension pulled him upright.

A tangled mass of blond hair swirled around her face. Her uniform jacket gone, one shirttail hung free from her skirt. Her legs were bare, no stockings or shoes.

Had someone…

He couldn’t even complete the thought, but had to consider the possibility. “Sophie…”

“Come in.” She gestured with one hand, the other clutching a letter opener. “I hope you didn’t rush. There’s no threat here now. I just, well, uh…”

“Sophie.” He slowly reached for the door. If he touched her, he knew she’d bolt.

Her hand clenched around the letter opener.

That small gesture shoved his objectivity into the lake. He reminded himself that she’d said on the phone she’d seen the intruder run away and no one was hurt. But she was still obviously rattled. Understandably so. David wanted to pull her into his arms. The thought of anyone touching her, hurting her…

He needed to punch a wall.

Another more daunting thought stopped him. Had she been forced to protect herself before the intruder ran off? He glanced at the letter opener. No blood. Thank God.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He kept his tone calm, steady, nothing short of a miracle given his grinding frustration.

“I’m fine.” She blinked faster. “We should step inside so we don’t let all the air-conditioning out.”

“Uh, wouldn’t want to run up your electric bill,” David said wryly. “Sophie.”

She spun to face him. “What?”

“Do you mind?” He closed his fingers around her hand clutching the letter opener, not because he cared about the weapon but because he needed an excuse to touch
her. Her icy fingers warmed in his grasp. If only he could dispel the chill of whatever had made her stand in front of him shaking.

“Oh, I forgot about it.” She stared at their hands joined over the weapon. “Silly, huh, when there’s nobody here?”

“Not at all.” Even the most hardened combat vets lost it sometimes. “Let’s sit.”

He placed the letter opener on the secretary by the door, then grasped her hand again. When she didn’t tug free, he squeezed her fingers gently. She seemed content to accept comfort, even if she didn’t acknowledge it. Like when he’d held her shoulder in the office.

David led her into the formal living room and settled beside her on the sofa, giving him a moment to pull his focus back where it belonged. His hand relaxed around the grip of the gun, and he placed it within reach on the coffee table. “You didn’t give me much to go on with the quick phone conversation, other than he’d left and you’d called the police.”

“Sorry about that. Honestly, I’m not sure why I called your sister looking for you.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “When I came back from my walk, I saw someone leaving the house.”

David scratched his jaw, almost afraid to hope she’d come through unscathed. “You weren’t inside with the intruder?”

“No.”

He swallowed heavily, pressing two fingers to his eyebrows. On the phone she’d said they were okay, but there were a helluva lot of shades to
okay
.

“Nanny and Brice even slept through it. I was out walking to unwind after…”

Her deep brown eyes flared with the memory of that
moment in the office when she’d lost it, when he’d touched her. Just a hand on her shoulder, for God’s sake.

Yeah, he understood the need to walk off tension.

“I needed some fresh air after work and I saw someone sneaking out of the house.” She looked down at her disheveled clothing and frowned. “You thought I was attacked? Oh, no! David, I’m fine, really. He didn’t hurt me, and he didn’t hurt my family. I wouldn’t have called you, but I thought I should have some kind of backup while I wait for the police in case they took a while to get here—which apparently they are.”

Forget punching a wall or holding her. He needed space and a few seconds to clear his head and formulate more coherent thoughts about this break-in. Had she been purposefully targeted? Had the perpetrator been looking for something specific, because otherwise, why not steal something? Had this high-profile case made her a target, or could she have enemies of a more personal nature?

David stretched away from her to the end table and turned on a lamp. The furniture polish gleamed in the lamplight. His nose twitched at the lemony smell.

For the first time since he’d entered her house, David allowed himself a look around. The rest of the decor matched the lamp, classy and pricey. Two striped sofas faced each other in front of a fireplace. Towering shelves held books, only a few knickknacks. Immaculate white walls surrounded furniture of muted blues, dark woods, and brass.

Not too different from his childhood home. A world apart from the cluttered condo where he and Haley Rose had lived before he’d moved into his sister’s posh guesthouse.

“Really,” she said, standing, “I’m feeling silly for
calling you. The police are on their way. You can go home.”

Leave? Not a chance.

He stood. Only a few inches separated him from Sophie, not even close to his thirty-six-inch rule. She smelled like Carolina jasmine mixed in with a clean breeze rolling off the water.

Were her eyes red-rimmed?
Ah, man.
They were. He wasn’t sure how much more of the vulnerable Sophie he could resist in one night.

She massaged the fleshy part of her palm where brown flecks dotted her skin, her thumb prodding at the tiny splinters.

“What happened here?” His hand slid under hers, her skin soft against his calluses.

“I must have snagged them on the stair rail when I ran inside to check on Brice and Nanny.” Sophie scraped her fingernail against a longer sliver protruding through the skin.

David’s frustration multiplied. “What were you thinking running in after a prowler on your own? You could have been hurt. What good would you have been to them then?”