Protector With A Past Page 14

  They'd crossed the street to the Bronco, and he unlocked the passenger side door and waited while she got in. A moment later he slid into the driver's seat, but he didn't attempt to start the ignition. "You nearly got killed."

  "I know." Julia stared straight ahead at the windshield. "I know I nearly got killed, and I know what I did was irresponsible. It won't happen again. Can we go now?"

  She heard his sharply indrawn breath. "What the hell's the matter with you, Julia? For crying out loud—I died a thousand deaths when I came down that damned hallway in the dark and thought that something had happened to you! And when I realized that he'd been there all the time—"

  "I know, Cord!" She turned to face him, her features drawn. "I just can't talk about it right now—I can't talk about anything right now. I—I've got to make a phone call," she said distractedly.

  "It's nearly two in the morning." His voice was incredulous. "Who's awake at this hour?"

  "No one's awake!" she snapped, losing the last of her control. "I'll be waking someone up—but they'll understand, Cord, because that's just the way it works sometimes. They'll understand, and they'll stay on the phone or maybe meet me for a coffee somewhere. I'd do the same for anyone else in the group—but tonight it's me who needs the lifeline!"

  "You want to talk to someone from AA." The anger drained from his face. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he looked suddenly uncertain. "I guess it's no good offering myself as a listener, is it?"

  "To hold my hand while I feel sorry for myself for a couple of hours?" she muttered, looking down at her lap. "Believe me, you don't want to see me like that."

  "No. You don't want me to see you like that," Cord said quietly. "But I was always a blind man where you were concerned, Julia."

  She didn't realize she was crying until the first fat drop fell onto her clenched hands, and by then it was already too late. She sat there silently, the tears falling from eyes that she kept squeezed shut, her shoulders held rigid against the tremors that felt like they were shaking her apart inside, and suddenly Cord's arms were around her, his hand pulling her head into the hollow of his shoulder, his voice a soothing, wordless murmur against her hair. He held her tightly, rocking her, and she inhaled the scent of his skin through her tears.

  "I missed you, Cord. I missed you so much!"

  The words burst from her throat with a desperate life of their own. She'd had no intention of telling him, but dear God, she couldn't take one more minute of this pain. She raised her head and looked at him, her eyes drowned.

  "You were my refuge and—and you were gone," she said in a whisper. "I want you back."

  She stared at him almost fearfully—the strong cheekbones, the straight mouth, his unreadable gaze … and then suddenly it was as if the universe—no, her life—slipped half a degree sideways and clicked into the position it was meant to be in.

  "Didn't you know?" Cord asked softly. "You have been safe in my heart all the time."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  «^»

  "But why did the maiden leap from way up there?" Davey looked up at the cliff skeptically. "She must have known she was going to die."

  "She wanted to die." Tossing her long black braid over her shoulder, Cord's mom shielded her eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun and tipped her head back, staring at the sheer drop to the deep blue lake. "She'd lost the only man she'd ever loved, and she couldn't live without him. But it's only a legend, you guys. My great-grandfather probably made it up years ago to bring the tourists in." She smiled at the three of them—Davey looking unconvinced, a wide-eyed and silent Julia and her own son, who was still thoughtfully assessing the cliff the locals called Maiden's Leap.

  "I'd do it," Cord said slowly. "Except I wouldn't do it to kill myself. I'd do it to save the maiden."

  "Would you do it to save me, Cord?" Five-year-old Julia's nose had a scattering of summer freckles on it, and her sandy fingers were wrapped around the stems of some wilting corn-flowers and daisies. She looked uncertainly at her big brother's older friend, and he grinned at her. He dropped a tanned hand to her hair, ruffling it affectionately.

  "Sure, honey. I'd do it in a heartbeat…"

  * * *

  Julia came out of the dream slowly, drifting back to consciousness as if she was gently being washed ashore by a warm wave. Her lashes fanned peacefully on her cheeks, she pointed her toes and stretched her legs luxuriously, still wrapped in the peaceful sense of well-being the dream had engendered in her. It had been a perfect summer's day, and Cord had said he would jump off Maiden's Leap to save her…

  She'd lost him, but now he was back.

  The events of the previous twenty-four hours returned as she came fully awake and opened her eyes. She was wearing a short blue sleep shirt, one of her purchases from yesterday, and across the slight curve of her breasts revealed by the lacy scoop neckline lay Cord's arm, keeping her close. Even at rest a hard swell of muscle was visible beneath the coppery skin.

  They'd come back here last night, and he'd never left her side. He'd held her as she'd talked, occasionally smoothing the damp hair from her forehead with one strong hand, and she'd poured it all out—the wrenching pain she'd felt every time she'd heard of a child she hadn't been there to save, the case files in piles on her desk that she'd known had been too much for one person to handle, the terrible sense of inadequacy that had begun to overwhelm her long before the time she'd confronted Hall and his daughter on the ledge. She'd told him everything.

  Well, no—not quite, Julia thought with a flicker of guilty honesty. She hadn't told him that she'd thought she'd been pregnant—and she hadn't told him how devastating that ultimately erroneous belief had been. She wasn't going to tell him.

  There was no reason to. Things had changed—she'd changed.

  She'd taken on the responsibility for Lizbet's safety. A year ago that responsibility would have crushed her with fear, but not now. The dangers were still out there—they always had been and they always would be—but she could keep them away from the child she'd sworn to protect, and nothing would happen to Lizbet as long as she did everything right.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. She was back in Cord's arms, and nothing was going to come between them ever again. He was the other half of her soul, and one day they would make a child together.

  "Bad dream?" His voice, husky with sleep, came from somewhere over her left shoulder, and she relaxed against his solid warmth.

  "No." She slanted her gaze at him and felt him stir behind her. "I was dreaming about the day your mom took us to Maiden's Leap, and you said you'd jump off it to save me."

  "Jeez, what could I say?" There was a wicked gleam in the one dark eye she could see. The other was covered with a tangle of blue-black hair. "You were perfectly capable of sitting that fat little butt right down on the sand and pitching a tantrum if I'd given you any other answer."

  "My butt was never fat. And I didn't throw tantrums, Cord—I was a perfect child." How long had it been since she'd indulged in something as innocuous as teasing? Julia wondered tremulously. It just felt so good, lying here with Cord and talking nonsense.

  "Okay, then—chubby. You were a chubby little five-year-old, and you may have been perfect with everyone else, but with me you could be a hellion," he insisted. "And it only got worse as you got older, honey. It's a darn good thing I like bad girls."

  "Me?" Startled, she twisted around in his arms to face him. "Me, a bad girl? Please, Cord—I'm the original Little Miss Conservative. I always worried I was too dull for—"

  "You're flashing me, honey. See, that's what I mean—good girls never accidentally on purpose fall out of their tops."

  His tone was disapproving, but as Julia looked down in confused consternation one large tanned hand slipped adroitly around the now exposed swell of her breast. "Baby dolls with lace trim," he said with appreciative interest. "What are the panties like?"

  He was stil
l teasing her, but the timbre of his voice had taken on a lower, more seductive note, and his thumb was idly circling her nipple as if at any moment he might decide to stop. It was still teasing, Julia thought as a flush of heat suffused her. But the word had taken on a whole new connotation.

  "You know what the panties are like, Detective Hunter." She could feel herself blushing. "You saw them last night."

  "But last night wasn't the right time, honey," he said softly. "Last night you just needed me to hold you. Now you need something else."

  "Maybe." Her teasing might be a little rusty, Julia thought, but she was pretty sure she still remembered how to raise Cord Hunter's temperature. She looked at him through her lashes, and with one finger she traced a hesitant line down the side of his neck to his collarbone. The dark eyes watching her widened slightly, and she saw him catch his breath. "And maybe right now you need something that I can give you. What do you want, Cord?"

  "I want to make you mine all over again."

  Under the sheets he brought his leg up and over hers, half-covering her with his body, and cupping the curve of her rump with his free hand, he effortlessly scooped her closer to him. He held her there, gazing into her eyes. She could feel him stroking her inner thigh, his hand slipping in and out of the lacy elasticized panty, and she knew he could feel her moistness. She felt like she was melting inside, Julia thought weakly. How could the man bring her to such a state with a single touch?

  "I try real hard to be a sensitive guy, honey." His breathing had deepened and slowed, too, and there was a flush of darker color ridging the hard cheekbones. "But there's part of me that's just about as basic as a big old gray he-wolf, and that's never going to change. I want to be in you again. What do you think those dreams I had of you when I was in California were all about, anyway?"

  "Birds?" She bit her lip and looked at him, and a slow grin lifted a corner of his mouth.

  "Once. But in all the rest it was only my imagination that took flight." He shrugged wryly. "Hell, I thought when I turned twenty I would have left that kind of thing behind, but I guess I'm not as adult as I thought I was."

  He bent his head, and so swiftly that she only had time to gasp, he licked the hollow between her breasts. Both his hands slid up to gently grip her shoulders. "So now you know what I want. Except I'm not taking it until I get the word from you, Julia. There's history between us."

  "Past history." She touched the small crescent-shaped scar on his cheek and then pressed a light kiss to it, her lips lingering on his skin. "I should have handled things differently two years ago. I built a wall around myself, and I ended up shutting out the one person I needed more than anyone. But I want you in my life, Cord—and I don't want any more walls between us." She paused and met his eyes. "I need you in me again, too—just as much as you do."

  He gave her a frankly dubious look. "Oh, I sincerely doubt that, sweetheart." His tone was dry. "You have no damn idea how badly I want you."

  "So make those dreams come true, Cord." A little laugh bubbled up inside of her. "I've got a pretty good idea of how they all ended, but there must have been a few interesting variations leading up to the inevitable. Show me."

  He held her gaze for a second, and then he smiled at her—a slow, bad-boy smile. He hadn't been kidding, Julia thought with a touch of nervousness. There was a big streak of wolf in the man—bigger than he'd ever revealed to her before.

  "Okay, you're on." His voice was deceptively soft. "But you've got to understand that these were dreams, so naturally whatever I wanted, all I had to do was think about it and then you were doing it. They were my dreams, after all," he added unapologetically.

  "I think I get it. You were the king of the world and I was your adoring slave. Is that about right?" She tipped her head to one side, frowning thoughtfully.

  "Sometimes an adoring concubine. Sometimes a dancing girl. But you get the picture—my every wish was your command. I think that's actually pretty standard for that kind of dream." He shot her an assessing glance, and his hands moved from her shoulders to her lace-trimmed neckline. "So do you think you can handle it?"

  "I think so." Looking at him, she felt suddenly breathless. She shouldn't be, she thought shakily. She'd made love with Cord Hunter countless times in the past—he'd been the only man she ever had made love with—and even though they'd been apart, their coming together might be expected to be a quietly loving renewal of their physical bond.

  But she'd forgotten how it had really been between them in bed. No—she hadn't forgotten, Julia corrected herself—she hadn't allowed herself to remember. Her nights without him had been hard enough to bear without torturing herself with desires he wasn't there to satisfy.

  But he was here now. And he wanted to play.

  "The baby dolls are good, but you're all covered up again. That's bad. You would never do that in my dreams."

  Impatiently he raked back the strand of hair that had fallen over his eye and sighed. Then both his hands moved slowly down to cup her breasts, pushing aside the stretchy elasticized neckline of her top until it was low enough to reveal her completely, and immediately Julia felt a liquid heat run through her. Somehow she felt more exposed than if he'd removed her clothing, she thought faintly, barely able to look at his hands and what they were doing.

  "You missed your cue." His voice was husky. "This is where you say, 'Oh, Cord, what are you doing?'"

  "Oh, Cord … what are you doing to me?" Julia breathed. His palms, slightly calloused, lifted her just high enough so that the lacy elastic slipped underneath her breasts and stayed there.

  "You're improvising. It threw me off there for a minute, but I like it," he said, his thumbs circling her nipples. "As for what I'm doing, I'm looking at your breasts. In a minute I'll be kissing them, but right now I just want to look. They're…" He caught his lower lip between his teeth and met her gaze. "They're just perfect. And they still fit exactly in my hands."

  True to his word, he lowered his head until she felt the tip of his tongue flicking along the underside of one breast, tracing its curve from the outermost edge to the hollow of her cleavage, his hands still pushing the tiny frill of lace on her top out of the way. His mouth moved to her other breast, but this time he took her nipple between his lips and circled it with his tongue. She could feel it tightening to a peak, and she bent her head back, arching her body toward him as erotic images she hadn't thought she was capable of imagining tumbled through her mind.

  "See, I always wanted to lick you all over, honey." His voice was velvet. A strand of his hair brushed against her skin as he lifted his head, and Julia heard herself give a little moan of pure pleasure. She opened her eyes and saw the drugged desire in his. "You taste like heat, and I'm going to cool you down."

  The sheet that had covered them slid off the side of the bed as he raised himself, an arm braced on either side of her, and straddled her. All he had on were one of his pairs of white shorts, the waistband an almost startling contrast against his tanned, washboard stomach, and in them he looked like a fighter who'd just stepped out of the ring. His shoulders were broad, and his biceps were more pronounced than she remembered them.

  He paused, looking down at her. "Baby, you're beautiful," he said softly. "I like to see your hair in your face and your lips open like that. And you're blushing all over."

  "I'm not blushing, Cord." As soon as she said it she felt the color rise to her face. "I'm hot, and I thought you were going to cool me down."

  She was tempting him, she thought with a little start. Maybe there was some bad girl in her, after all.

  "Put your arms above your head and hold on to the bedstead, honey." He bent to her, and his tongue darted in between her parted lips, leaving them moist and wanting more. "By the way—the panties are cute. Those ruffles make you look like a birthday present."

  What he did next took her completely by surprise. Moving down on the bed, he lifted her foot, cradling it in his hands. "Pretty feet, too," he said. "One rainy Saturday I
want to paint your toenails bright scarlet. Then we'll go out to dinner and you can wear your most conservative black dress and black heels, and only I'll know what a hussy you are under that prim exterior."

  He kissed the tip of her baby toe. "Scarlet, or maybe shocking pink." His teeth nipped it lightly, his eyes watching her. "Or maybe fuchsia." His tongue slipped between her baby toe and the next one. "I'll get you an ankle bracelet and you can spend all one Sunday walking around the house wearing it and nothing else."

  He was grinning wickedly at her, and his hair had fallen across his brow again. Julia's foot was arched high in his hands, her toes curling into his palm every time his mouth touched her.

  "I'm very sensitive there, Cord," she gasped. He licked the outside curve of her arch, and then she felt him moving to her ankle.

  "I know your sensitive spots." He took the back of her ankle into his mouth and licked his way up her calf. "I'm concentrating on them. You always shied away when I touched the back of your knee—but not in my dreams. And not now, honey. This time you have to ride it out."

  Like a kitten rasping at satin, he found the hollow at the back of her partially bent knee and lapped at it with slow, steady strokes. Julia found herself gripping the bed behind her, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip to keep herself from crying out. Her leg was raised and held by Cord, his knee was firmly pressed between her open thighs, and she could feel a groundswell of aching need rise within her. It was almost too much to bear, she thought, turning her face to the pillow as his tongue moved higher, edging toward the softness of her inner thigh. It was too much to bear.

  Her hands lost their grasp and she reached out blindly for him, sinking her fingers into that silky, blue-black hair.

  "Oh, Cord, no," she breathed. Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away, and she could hardly hear herself. "No, I can't—I can't hold on any longer."

  He didn't answer her, but through the veil of her lashes she saw him close his eyes. His mouth left a wet and heated trail against the delicate skin of her thigh, and then she felt his tongue flick under the lace edge of the panties she was still wearing.