About That Kiss

  nipples were concerned. Every move he made spiked her heart rate as he continued his inspection, which was really playing havoc with her ability to hold on to her anger.

  In fact, it was slipping right through her fingers in spite of her determination.

  “And here?” he murmured, stroking the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

  “I don’t know.” But she sighed as his mouth touched her there, brushing whisper-soft kisses across the tender skin. Then he gently set her down on her feet and met her gaze.

  “Strip,” he said.

  She gave a rough laugh at this because one, hell no. And two, even if she was willing to go there with him, she wasn’t nearly as comfortable in her skin as he was in his. He had no body issues at all and could walk around naked without even giving it another thought—nor should he—but she gave it lots of thoughts.

  Joe stood there, taking up more than his fair share of the kitchen, waiting patiently with some humor in his gaze. “I want to see your knees. You’re bleeding through your jeans.”

  Oh. Right. Her hands went to the waistband of her jeans and hesitated.

  “What?” he asked.

  She grimaced. “It feels weird to take off my pants in front of you when it’s not for sex. Like we’re playing dirty doctor or something.”

  “How about after I get a look, you can order me to strip too,” he said and smiled. “You can be the sexy nurse.”

  “What if I want to be the doctor?” she asked.

  “Honey, once you’ve got me naked, you can be whatever you want to be.”

  Rolling her eyes, she unbuttoned and unzipped and then had to execute a little shimmy to get the slightly too tight jeans down. She blamed Tina’s delicious and fattening muffins, but couldn’t get too worked up about that because if she was being honest, there was something almost unbearably erotic about stripping while Joe remained fully dressed. As her pants hit the floor, she felt her breathing change.

  Joe took one look at her baby blue lacy thong and his breathing changed too. But he lifted her back up to the counter without comment. She squeaked because without her jeans, the tile was cold. He laughed softly, evilly, and then got down to doctoring.

  When he had her knees patched up, he slid his hands to her butt and scooted her snug up against him, her thighs on either side of his hips. She squeezed him with her legs and felt him lean into her, his arms gently closing around her. He kissed her jaw, his lips nibbling oh so softly at her skin, and she had one cohesive thought.

  I’m in such trouble . . .

  “Joe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I get to be the doctor now.”

  “Doctor away,” he said, voice low and husky.

  “What hurts?”

  “Everything.”

  Oh boy. She kissed him and then her brain shorted out and she closed her eyes because he was sliding one hand up to the back of her neck while his mouth did something pretty amazing as it worked its way across her collarbone. Flashes and bolts of heat slashed through her and whatever pain she’d been in was forgotten. She shifted to once again give him better access and he intercepted her mouth with his, making her moan as their tongues touched and another fresh bolt of lust ripped through her.

  Joe kissed like he did everything else in his life—with an easy confidence and a skill that defied the odds. Being kissed by him took her out of herself and made her forget everything else. She could feel him hard through his jeans, and memories of what he felt like inside her tore another moan from her that he drank in greedily.

  He used that hand he had low on her back to press her close as they moved against each other until she tore free, still breathing hard. It was crazy to her that he could get her halfway to orgasm with just a kiss, but without his mouth on her right now, thinking about it was more than a little embarrassing.

  “Bed,” he said firmly and then carried her there. He was losing his clothes with quick efficiency when her brain kicked in.

  Could she do this, just have sex and keep her heart out of it? She got off the bed and hesitated, unsure. Where was her red wig when she needed it?

  The room was dark, only a small pool of light at the base of the window where the moon slanted in. She had no trouble seeing the outline of the dark, muscled shadow as he sat up and studied her. “I can go to the couch,” he said quietly. “Whatever you want. Just don’t ask me to leave you alone tonight.”

  She chewed on her lower lip.

  “Kylie.”

  “I’m trying to decide what I want to do with you.”

  “What are the options?” he asked.

  “Kill you or kiss you.”

  He laughed. “Here, let me help you decide.” Reaching out, he tugged her into him so that she stood between his spread thighs.

  She sighed. “I find it really irritating that you smell so good. I want to bite you.”

  He gave her a small smile. “Bite away.”

  “I’m really mad at you, Joe.”

  “I know. Let me make it all better.”

  For now, he meant. But maybe not. Even in the dark she could see the need and yearning and hunger on his face. He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. Staring at him, she gave a slow nod and in one dizzying move, he snagged her around the waist and tugged her back onto the bed.

  And then turned on the light.

  “Hey,” she complained and lifted a hand to block her eyes. “Turn that off.”

  “I want to see you.”

  “You know what I look like!”

  “Not when we’re naked,” he said.

  “I’m not naked—” She broke off when he slid off her panties. Okay, now she was naked.

  “We’ve never done this before,” he said.

  She gaped up at him. “What are you talking about? We’ve done nothing but this.”

  He smiled but shook his head. “Not as you. You’ve always been in a wig as a disguise. But now you’re you.”

  She was finding it very hard to talk with his big, delicious bod holding her down. “I wasn’t in disguise that other morning in the shower,” she said.

  “Semantics. Your sweet curves were all warm and wet and covered in soap. I lost my mind.”

  “How about the other night when you showed up late—”

  “That’s just it,” he said. “It was late. And dark.” He pushed her hair from her face and made himself very at home between her legs. “Where were we?”

  With her about to walk. But now she had him this close and she couldn’t hold on to her resolve. Not ready to have the conversation with him in this position, hell, not wanting to have it at all, she rolled so that she was on top. Better. Now he was sprawled out beneath her, all sinew and heat, and she couldn’t think. One last time, she told herself. You can have him this one last time before you walk away. “I think we were just about to rock each other’s world.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Then he rolled, and before she could blink, she was pinned beneath him again.

  And not, apparently, because he was in any sort of hurry to get to it. No, it was as if it was the complete opposite. A switch had been thrown and suddenly he seemed to have all the time in the world as he worked his way down her body, kissing, licking, nibbling, and then kissing again, every single inch of her. She was writhing, begging him for more, but he couldn’t be rushed as he made his way back to her mouth for a kiss that was hot, deep, and slow, and she absolutely melted. He kissed her like that for long minutes, seemingly content to just drink her in as they rolled over the bed, taking turns on top. She reveled in the dominant position for long, rare moments, reacquainting herself with every inch of him, wondering if she’d ever get enough of feeling his heat, his hard muscles quivering beneath her tongue. And when she took him just a little too far, when he groaned her name and pulled her up to straddle him, she took his hands in hers and pushed them over his head as she brought him deep inside her.

  The ambient glow from her bathroom night-light lit
his warrior’s body in bold relief, highlighting the sheen of his skin and the flex of his muscles moving beneath it, all the way down past his abs to where their bodies were joined. She watched, helplessly fascinated, as his body surged into hers, again and again and again. Her eyes drank in the details of him, the faint line of hair down his belly, a long, thin scar across his ribs, the line of stitches from the other night, another scar in the hollow of his shoulder.

  The muscles in his neck were corded, his head thrown back in pleasure, and his eyes, locked on hers, sent her right over. She felt him go too, his mouth at her throat as he shuddered along with her . . .

  They were still gasping for air, still lying tangled together where they’d collapsed. From somewhere in the dark room, Joe’s phone buzzed. The nature of his job and the story of their lives. He ignored it but Kylie was barely able to recognize this fact. She was that far gone in what they’d just done. It felt as though he’d peeled back all her layers and broken into her heart. There were feelings, oh so many feelings, and she knew, dammit, she knew, she wasn’t alone in this.

  Not that she was going to wait around for him to realize that. As she worked at putting air into her lungs and waited for the feeling to return to her extremities, she realized the pillows were gone. Her lamp leaned drunkenly against one wall. The blankets and sheets had disappeared and the fitted sheet had been pulled loose, lying twisted and damp beneath them.

  The only thing moving was Joe’s hand, slowly stroking up and down her damp back as she continued to struggle to regain her breath and some semblance of control. Only when she was clearly relaxed, boneless, and very near a pleasure coma in fact, did he go for his phone.

  When he did, she pulled the blanket off the floor to cover herself. Joe glanced over at her, clearly amused by her sudden modesty. But as he listened to a message, his smile faded.

  “What?” she asked when he’d disconnected.

  He didn’t answer, just began pulling on his clothes.

  She sat up. “Joe.”

  He paused with only his jeans on, low-slung and sexy even now. “Remember the cowboy apprentice, Eric?” he asked.

  “Of course. What did he want?”

  Joe looked pained.

  She stared at him. “Joe.”

  “He found the imposter’s card. He’s got a number for the guy.”

  Chapter 28

  #CarpeDiem

  Kylie’s heart took a good hard fast leap at the first real progress toward getting back her penguin. Finally, they were getting somewhere. Except . . . She met Joe’s gaze. “Tell me something.”

  “What?”

  “Were you going to fill me in on Eric’s call if I hadn’t asked?”

  He hesitated and she felt the shock roll through his system. “Seriously?” she asked.

  “Okay, hold on a second,” he said, shoving his fingers through his hair in a rare tell of frustration. “Yes, I did briefly consider not telling you . . . yet . . . but I knew you’d get all up in arms over that. I was going to tell you, Kylie.”

  “But maybe not until you’d checked it over.”

  That one he didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The truth was in his eyes.

  Stunned, she shook her head and stared at him, unsure how to feel. She’d never thought about trust being a premeditated, calculated thing before, but apparently it was. She didn’t like it, not one little bit. Jumping up, she pulled on some clothes before grabbing her phone. “What’s the guy’s name and number?”

  “Kylie—”

  “Joe.”

  He didn’t sigh but he looked like he wanted to. “We don’t have a name,” he said. “Just the business—Wood Specialties—and a number.”

  “Fine. Just the number then.” She made the call on speaker. The voice mail was a brusque male voice saying one word. “Beep.”

  “I’m interested in your work,” Kylie said. “Call me back.” She left her number and disconnected.

  Joe was finishing getting dressed. He grabbed his keys. “I’m going to the office to do a search on that number and get an address.”

  “Great idea.” She slid her purse over her shoulder. “I’m going with you.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  She just looked at him and he blew out a breath and lifted his hands. “Fine,” he said.

  “Fine.”

  Half an hour later they were in his office and had the address of Wood Specialties, located on a houseboat in the marina. They also had a name for the guy who owned it.

  Kevin Baker.

  Kylie sat down hard in Joe’s office chair.

  Joe was watching her carefully. “You know him?”

  “I used to,” she said. “He’s one of my mom’s old boyfriends. One of the few I actually liked. He was nice to me. And he liked my grandpa. He did a little work for him now and then, although he took off right around the time of the fire.”

  Joe took his eyes off his computer screen and looked at her. “And you didn’t think he should be on the list of suspects?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she said a little testily, hugging herself. “I never would’ve considered Kevin for taking the penguin. He wasn’t an apprentice. And out of all of my mom’s boyfriends, he was my favorite. He’s a nice guy and the only one who bothered to be even halfway nice to the daughter of his crazy girlfriend.”

  Joe blew out a breath, which spoke volumes. They both knew she hadn’t had a lot of nice guys in her life who’d put her first. And she had the feeling that Joe believed they were about to ruin the memory of one of the few. “It’s not him,” she said. “No way.”

  “Maybe not,” Joe said. “But it’s time for a whole new list called The Boyfriends, and Kevin goes right to the top. He’s a woodworker?”

  “Kind of, but he preferred painting. He wasn’t great at either.”

  Joe was quiet for a second. “That first night after I agreed to help you, I got ahold of the official notes on the fire. I talked to the arson detective who’d worked the case.”

  She stared at him. “Why?”

  “You’d asked for my help,” he said. “I never go into anything unprepared.”

  “No, I mean why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Or share the notes?”

  “Because there wasn’t anything in there that you didn’t already know.” He paused. “And I thought reading about it all over again would upset you.”

  She took that in for a moment and nodded.

  “Kylie.”

  She met his gaze.

  “You weren’t in any way blamed for the fire.”

  “Only because there wasn’t enough evidence.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not at fault.”

  “You don’t know that. It could’ve been my fault.”

  “It wasn’t,” he said firmly, calmly.

  Something about his unwavering belief in her while still holding back his heart made her mad. “How do you know?”

  “Because I know you,” he said. “Maybe even better than anyone else.”

  Seeing as this was very likely true, she didn’t respond. And also because she wanted to say, If you know me so well, why won’t you let yourself love me? But that was way too desperate and needy and she was done with that. “What do you think you know about me?”