Sizzle

  “It’s probably a good thing they didn’t have children.”

  She nodded. “True. It would be difficult for them, what with a crazy mother.”

  Sam went back to her question. “Maybe whoever blew up the house wanted to cover something up. When did you see her?”

  “Just last Friday. I was on my way out of town and stopped at her yard sale.” Without realizing what she was doing, Lyra leaned into his side. “What a weekend,” she sighed. “I narrowly missed being the witness to a murder and then my apartment was broken into.”

  “Could there be a connection?” Sam asked.

  She thought about it. “I don’t see how. Who would know I stopped at the yard sale? I never told anyone.”

  “I’m going to find out how Rooney made his money.”

  “Bet it wasn’t legit. Why did they stay married? She was obviously miserable. Why didn’t she walk away?”

  “Maybe she liked the lifestyle? Or even loved him? Who knows? There could be a hundred different reasons.”

  “Ever get into a fight with your wife?” Lyra didn’t mean to pry, but her curiosity about Sam grew stronger with every minute she was with him.

  He didn’t close up on her this time. “No. Disagreements, sure, but no big fights.”

  She was about to ask him another question, but being this close to him, she completely lost her train of thought. Sam turned his attention back to the TV, but Lyra couldn’t take her eyes off his face.

  Sam had told her that he was married three years. He wasn’t the type to blow off a commitment, so what had happened? He was too … solid, too responsible. How could any woman in her right mind ever leave him? The man was sexy and adorable and strong and obviously smart and heroic. No woman would leave him … willingly. And that meant … Lyra felt an ache in her heart, suddenly realizing why Sam was so reticent to talk about his marriage. His wife had died.

  SEVENTEEN

  EARLY IN HIS CAREER, SAM HAD LEARNED TO KEEP HIS PROFESSIONAL life and his personal life separate. He had done a good job of it, too … until Lyra came along. He’d known he was in trouble about ten minutes after he met her. There was just something about her. Just looking at her took his breath away, but more surprising, her passion for everything in life felt like a light turning on inside of him.

  She probably thought he was rude when he abruptly stood up and walked out of her bedroom, but she had been looking up at him with those sexy green eyes. The urge to take her in his arms and kiss her had been so intense, he’d had to summon all his willpower to look away. She was wearing a robe over her nightgown, but he’d seen enough of the silky fabric skimming over the curves of her incredible body to know what was underneath.

  He closed the door of his room behind him and dropped down on the bed in a cold sweat. Keeping his distance was becoming difficult. He needed to get away from her as soon as possible, before he did something he would regret.

  He had more than enough on his plate right now. His future was undecided. A part of him wanted to go home to the Highlands and take one of the jobs that had been offered to him there, but he also wanted to continue the work he was doing in Washington, D.C. For the last couple of years, he’d been completely immersed in his career, never really stopping long enough to take stock of his life. When his wife, Beth, died of complications after minor surgery, it had nearly destroyed him. He couldn’t go through that kind of pain again. Wouldn’t.

  Lyra was the type of woman that men wanted to marry, and Sam wasn’t interested in long-term relationships.

  He got into bed. The more he thought about Lyra, the more frustrated he became. Sleep wasn’t happening. He stacked his hands behind his head and decided to concentrate on the Rooneys and the break-in at Lyra’s apartment. Was there a connection, or was it a coincidence?

  An hour later, he heard Lyra’s door open. She obviously couldn’t sleep either. After a few minutes passed, he heard noise from the kitchen. Sam watched the clock. When she didn’t return to her bedroom, he decided to see what she was doing. He pulled on his jeans, automatically slipped his gun into the waistband, and went out into the hallway.

  Lyra was creeping up the stairs. He waited until she was on the landing and turning toward her room before he said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Startled, she bumped into the wall as she whirled around.

  He stepped closer. “What have you got there?”

  “A candy bar,” she admitted with a tinge of guilt.

  Lyra didn’t move. It was an awkward situation, but she could handle it. Yes, they were standing a foot apart in a dark hallway, and yes, he was half-naked and she wore only a thin nightgown and an open robe, but she could pretend to be blasé, and he would never know how nervous she was. First, she would have to stop staring at his chest. Then maybe she could catch her breath. The man’s body was amazing. His bare chest looked as hard as steel and his biceps bulged. He was in incredible shape, but then he was an FBI agent, so she supposed he had to stay fit. There was a scar on his left shoulder and another one just above his rib cage. Lyra had an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around his neck and feel his hard chest against her. Okay, the blasé plan wasn’t working. Put your damn shirt on, she thought.

  “Would you like a bite?” she asked nervously.

  “Maybe just a taste,” he answered. He didn’t take his eyes off hers as he took another step closer.

  Lyra was totally unprepared for what happened next. She held out the candy bar, but he ignored it. She could feel the heat radiating from him. He tilted her chin up slowly, leaned down, and stroked her lips with his tongue. It was the most erotic sensation she had ever felt. Her stomach turned to Jell-O. She was weak all over.

  Before she could show any reaction, his mouth covered hers, and his tongue slipped inside to rub against hers. Lyra was melting into him when he abruptly pulled back.

  “Night,” he said, then disappeared.

  Lyra stood there staring at his bedroom door for at least a minute trying to figure out what had just happened, finally coming to the realization that she didn’t want the chocolate any longer. She wanted him.

  EIGHTEEN

  AFTER A RESTLESS NIGHT, SAM STOOD IN THE SHOWER LETTING the hot water pour over him. Maybe he should be taking a cold shower, he thought. That might bring him to his senses.

  He put the palms of his hands against the tile in front of him and bowed his head. What was he doing? Kissing Lyra like that only made him want her more. Not good.

  He couldn’t understand his own behavior. He had never had such a strong initial reaction to any woman before, not even his wife, but with Lyra it was different. It had been an almost instantaneous attraction, and it wasn’t going away. In fact, it was getting stronger, this need to touch her. What worried him most was that he knew it wasn’t lust. Okay, it was lust, but also something more.

  Getting to sleep last night had been a bitch because he couldn’t stop thinking about her soft full lips and how she had felt against him.

  While Sam shaved, he considered his situation. He wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for Alec Buchanan. As soon as he got dressed, he was going to call Alec and give him a deadline to find someone else. Twenty-four hours was more than generous, he thought.

  Fortunately, it was up to Sam to set the day and time for his lecture to the cadets in Los Angeles. He had a two-week window, but he should give the officer in charge at least a couple of days notice. He’d schedule the lecture for Friday, then rent a car and drive to San Diego for his final lecture on Monday. If he was lucky, he could catch the red-eye to D.C. that evening … and his life would be back to the way it used to be.

  Plan in play, he thought, as he started down the stairs. He turned around and went back up. Lyra’s alarm clock was buzzing, and her bedroom door was partially open. He knocked and looked in.

  “Ah, that’s just not fair,” he groaned.

  Her nightgown was hanging off the foot of the bed, and she was sound asleep, lying on her stomach wit
h her arms above her head, a sheet barely covering her derriere. She didn’t have on a stitch of clothing.

  She slept in the nude. He didn’t need to know that. His fantasies were never going to go away now. Damn.

  Sam didn’t go into her bedroom to wake her. Too risky. Letting the alarm continue to buzz, he went down to the kitchen to call Alec.

  “How’s it going?” his friend asked.

  “You’ve got to get me out of here.” Sam winced. He sounded desperate.

  “How come? What’s going on?”

  How come? She sleeps in the nude. That’s what’s going on. “I said I would help you out, but I can’t do this indefinitely.”

  “Wait a second,” Alec said. He was walking into his office and stopped to give instructions to someone. Coming back to his phone, he said, “When do you give your lecture?”

  “I’m thinking I’ll do it Friday, get it over with. Alec, tell me about this case. Have you found out anything?”

  “No,” he answered. “Detective O’Malley says they don’t have a single lead. They’re still working on it, still digging.”

  “Lyra needs a bodyguard until someone finds out what the hell is going on.” His anger came through loud and clear. He told Alec about the yard sale Lyra had gone to and what he had learned about the Rooneys. “Run him through the system. I’ve got a feeling he’s got a long record. And find another bodyguard for Lyra by tomorrow, okay?”

  He disconnected the call and made himself breakfast. Lyra came down dressed for the day. She looked rested, which meant she’d slept.

  “Morning,” she said as she poured cereal into a bowl.

  Sam was sitting across from her eating his second bowl of organic granola.

  He started the argument. “Do you know how much sugar is in that bowl?”

  She took a big bite, chewed it slowly, and said, “No, but I’m guessing there’s a lot.”

  “You might as well eat a couple of hot fudge sundaes.”

  “I can’t. No ice cream and no fudge. I should have gotten some at the store.”

  “Lyra, it’s not healthy.”

  “You’re eating gravel. Some things in life are just not worth it. Eating gravel is one of them.”

  She finished her cereal while Sam told her about his conversation with Alec.

  “So the detectives don’t have any leads? Nothing?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “And tomorrow you’re getting a new bodyguard.”

  Lyra had become an expert at hiding her emotions. Not letting her parents know what she was thinking or feeling had once been the only way she could get through the day.

  “Okay,” she said nonchalantly. She got up, rinsed her bowl and spoon, and put them in the dishwasher. When she turned to leave, he blocked her.

  “Listen …” he began.

  “Yes?”

  “About that kiss …” he said.

  Lyra stared into his eyes and waited. She saw how uncomfortable he was.

  “It was a really nice kiss, but …” He stopped. There was a moment of awkward silence.

  What was he trying to tell her?

  “I think you’re a wonderful woman. It’s just that …” he continued.

  Uh oh. Now she understood. He was going to tell her the kiss was a mistake.

  Oh no you don’t, she thought.

  Lyra moved closer. Her face inches away from his, she gently placed her hand on his cheek. “I think I know what you’re trying to say. Even though you kissed me, you’re not going to marry me?” She tried to sound sympathetic when she said, “Don’t worry, Sam. I could never marry you.”

  With a gentle pat to his cheek, she turned and walked out of the kitchen. She didn’t start smiling until she was out of sight.

  NINETEEN

  “WHAT THE …?”

  Sam heard Lyra’s laugh and shook his head. She was messing with him. Their kiss obviously hadn’t fazed her, and if she wasn’t going to make a big deal about it, then neither would he.

  Sam had been trained to read people, and it didn’t take him any time at all to figure out Lyra. She wasn’t into casual sex. He doubted she had ever gone into a bar with the intention of hooking up for the night. She just wasn’t the type. She had to have an emotional connection with a man before she let him touch her.

  At that moment his cell phone rang—it was Alec—and Sam welcomed the distraction.

  “A new bodyguard will be there early tomorrow morning,” Alec said. “His name is Brick Winter.”

  “Is he FBI?”

  “No,” Alec answered. “He’s with Mead Security Company out there in L.A. Detective O’Malley recommended him, and I checked him out. He’s good. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “Have you got a file on him?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Email it to me. I want to check him out, too. I’m not about to leave Lyra with just anyone.”

  “Sam, the guy does this for a living. He’s been in Iraq, Special Forces, two tours. What’s bothering you?”

  “I want to be convinced she’ll be in safe hands.” Sam didn’t realize how transparent his words were.

  “What do you think of her? She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she?” Alec asked, a smile in his voice.

  “What do you mean ‘What do I think of her?’ She’s a job. That’s all.”

  “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

  “I haven’t noticed.”

  Alec laughed. “So you like her?”

  “Just email me the damn file.” Sam ended the call.

  So you like her? What kind of question was that? Alec sounded like a teenage girl.

  Sam’s concern made perfect sense—to him. If he was going to bail on Lyra, the least he could do was make certain he left her in good hands. Assuming that Brick was going to work out, Sam thought he should probably call and schedule his lecture to the cadets, but something held him back. He’d call tomorrow, he told himself, as soon as he had talked to—and evaluated—Brick.

  Lyra was coming down the stairs with her laptop and her cell phone. She had changed her clothes and was wearing a short skirt that showed off her tanned, shapely legs, and a white T-shirt that showed off her other assets.

  “I’ve just talked to O’Malley,” she said. “I told him about the yard sale. He wants to look through those boxes of books and DVDs, and I explained they won’t get to the ranch for a couple of days. I also told him I can’t imagine anyone knows I have them.”

  “What’s on the schedule today?”

  “I haven’t made up my mind what I want to do for the short film and I thought I’d do some research today, but then I got a text from Sidney. She ran into Professor Mahler, and he wants to see me in his office. So I guess we’re headed back to campus. But after that, I need to stop at Paraiso Park and switch out the memory card. Do you have any leather boots … thick boots?”

  “Not with me.”

  “Then you’ll have to wait in the car. You can’t get around in that run-down park or climb its hills in those loafers.”

  “You’re not going up there without me.”

  “Okay, then. We’ll stop and buy some boots.”

  “When do you want to leave?”

  “Five minutes?”

  It was twenty minutes before she was ready. He put her boots and backpack in the trunk and was walking around to the passenger door when she asked him if he wanted her to drive. Instead of answering, he just smiled as he opened the passenger door for her.

  They found a sporting goods store off the highway and, at Lyra’s insistence, Sam bought a pair of sturdy hiking boots. She looked them over and approved. Hopefully, none of the stray needles on the hill would get through the thick soles.

  “This brand is more expensive, but they’re worth it,” she told him.

  “How many times do you expect we’re going up that hill before I leave tomorrow?”

  “Just once.”

  With this reminder that he was leaving, Sam thought he saw sadness in Lyra’s eyes. I
t was there, then gone in a flash.

  “Lyra—”

  “Here you are, sir.” The salesman handed Sam his credit card and shopping bag with his boots.

  She waited for Sam by the store’s front entrance. Two college-age clerks rushed to open the door for her and ended up in a tug of war over the door handle.

  Sam came up behind her, put his arm around her shoulders, and said to the clerks, “You want to get out of the way?”

  The eager young men looked deflated when they saw her in his embrace. “You’re with her?” one asked.

  “Out of the way,” Sam said.

  “The guy’s got a gun,” the other clerk whispered.

  As though someone had just yelled “free pizza and beer,” both clerks raced back to the counter.

  Sam dropped his purchase in the trunk of the car, and they were once again on their way. Lyra texted the professor’s teaching assistant and asked when Mahler would be available.

  After reading his reply, she said, “The T.A. is almost as obnoxious as Mahler.”

  Sam looked preoccupied, and she didn’t think he’d heard her until he asked, “You want to tell me why?”

  “Listen to this text: Eleven-thirty in professor’s office. Be prompt or else.”

  Sam smiled. “What’s the ‘or else’?”

  “Or else I won’t be in his office at eleven-thirty,” she shrugged.

  “I don’t like going back to campus. The men who are after you must know by now that you’re not staying in your apartment. And because they don’t know where you’re staying, most likely they hope to find you on campus.”

  “The campus is huge,” she pointed out.

  He gave her an exasperated look. “If they’re any good, they’ll have your class schedule by now. That should narrow it down for them.”

  “So if I don’t show up back on campus, how long will they wait before they move on?”

  “You’re dreaming.”

  She sighed. “I know.”

  “I doubt they’ll waste too much time strolling around campus. They’ll find other ways to draw you out.”