A Wicked Seduction (15 page)

But he didn't have that power, and so instead he opted for soothing words and gentle caressing sweeps of his hands down her unyielding back. “Jo…you couldn't have known that the guy was going to shoot Brian,” he tried reasoning.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her expression filled with blame and self-reproach. “The moment that perp took his gun off of me to train it on Brian and threatened his life I should have pulled the trigger, no questions asked.” She shook her head, her jaw clenching in bitterness. “I wasn't thinking straight, and not covering my partner went against everything I learned in training. Dammit, I couldn't follow through with pulling the trigger, and I proved to everyone from my brothers on down to my colleagues that when it came to making the kind of life or death decisions some cops face during their careers, I couldn't handle the job.”

He resisted the urge to shake her, to make her realize that she couldn't wallow in blame and guilt forever. That she couldn't remain chained to the past or she'd never be able to embrace a full and emotionally satisfying future. “You made a mistake, Jo,” he argued lightly. “It happens to the strongest of people sometimes.”

She wriggled out of his arms and pushed him away, her mouth pinched with a frown. “That mistake cost a man his life, Dean,” she said, angry now—at herself, possibly at him, and even fate for delivering such
a devastating blow. “He was as close to a best friend as I've ever had. After the accident, I had no choice but to resign from the police force, for my sake and everyone else I worked with, all of whom didn't want a skittish partner. And I don't want to be responsible for another person like that ever again,” she added in a raspy whisper.

Her emotional resistance was the crux of everything that led to them, he knew. She was afraid of making another
mistake.
Of letting anyone too close, caring too much, of trusting instincts she believed were no longer accurate or reliable. Afraid of experiencing more failure, more loss, more pain.

Unfortunately, life didn't come with any guarantees against heartache and misery.

“Does that include me?” His tone was soft, but his question was frank and ruthless, forcing her to face what she'd been avoiding for the past two days—
them.

Her chin lifted a fraction and her gaze narrowed on him. “What, exactly, are you asking?”

He pushed his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans, trying to keep calm when his insides were twisting into a huge knot of turmoil. But he'd come this far with her and he wasn't about to leave without laying all his cards on the table, no matter what it might end up costing him personally.

“Are you allowing the incident with Brian to keep you from letting yourself trust in what's between us?” he asked. “What
can
be between us?”

She bristled defensively. “What's between you and
I has nothing to do with Brian or my past. We had a fling. An affair. Neither one of us made any promises to the other.”

Despite the desperation he heard in her voice, anger flared through him—that she'd reduced their relationship to something so superficial. “We might not have made any verbal promises,” he agreed tightly, “but there was a hell of a lot more between us than just hot sex, and you know it, even if you won't admit it out loud.” And if they weren't in a place where anyone could walk in on them, he'd push her up against the wall and prove it to her…make her melt with a kiss, make her moan with an intimate caress, and make her beg for what her body craved and her mind so obstinately refused to acknowledge. That she
needed
the physical and emotional connection they shared.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered in an aching tone.

A muscle in his cheek flexed. He had no idea if she was apologizing for all that had happened between them, or if she was feeling contrite for what she couldn't bring herself to give to him. A commitment. And yes, promises, too. Either way, his annoyance and frustration mounted.

“I don't want your apology, Jo. I want
you,
” he said, deciding that he was done catering to her fears when she held a huge part of his future in her hands. “And I'm optimistic enough to believe that we can find a way to make things work between us, even if it means long-distance commuting until I get things finalized with my father's company.”

Her eyes widened in shock at his candid intentions, and she shook her head. “I'm not ready for that.”

Would she
ever
be ready to take that leap of faith with him? he wondered. He stared at her as long seconds ticked past and came to realize that, for her, backing away from taking personal risks now equaled no chance of experiencing more pain. She was so wrapped up in the remorse of her past actions that she refused to move forward with her life. He planned to give her a forceful nudge. “Guilt is a powerful motivator, isn't it, Jo?”

Her cheeks flushed a warm shade of red. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Don't you?” he countered bluntly. “The guilt you feel over Brian's death motivates all your actions, whether you realize it or not. You lost Brian over a man who'd kidnapped a child, and now you pour all your extra time into finding abducted children. And you're always caught up in trying to be tough and in control and proving to everyone around you that you're strong and capable. You had a moment of weakness, Jo, and you have to get past the blame so you can forgive yourself and go on with your life.” He softened his tone. “It's okay to be vulnerable, and it's more than okay to need someone. You can't let one incident rule the rest of your life.”

She remained quiet, and he took advantage of her silence to further his argument. “I know this isn't something you want to hear, but I'm going to say it anyway. I'm falling in love with you, Jo.” Harsh
laughter escaped him. “Hell, who am I kidding? I'm already there.”

Once the words were out in the open they felt right and undeniable and perfectly etched in his heart and soul. Closing the distance between them, he reached out and brushed his fingers along her silken cheek. “But maybe I need to wait for you to catch up and admit that you feel the same. Or maybe I'm a fool for believing you'll eventually come around and realize that you have nothing at all to prove to me. That I care about you and accept you just the way you are, mistakes and all.”

Her eyes glittered with renewed moisture and conflicting emotions—longings, uncertainties, and deep-rooted fears. She chewed on her bottom lip, seemingly struggling with wanting to believe all he'd said, but allowing doubts to surface and shake her confidence.

She remained silent. Their gazes remained connected, but Dean's entire body felt hollow and empty, like he'd just lost an integral part of himself he never knew existed until he'd fallen in love with Jo. And that's exactly what had happened, when he'd least expected it, too.

Now there was nothing left to say to convince this stubborn woman standing in front of him that her fear of failure was a logical insecurity after all she'd been through, that she did have the ability to conquer her darkest fears if only she'd make the effort. Her emotional scars ran deep, wrapped up tight in guilt and regrets only she could absolve. And while he knew
with certainty that she possessed the internal strength to banish all those demons that haunted her dreams, her soul even, she had to believe it for herself.

The door to Jo's office abruptly opened, and she visibly jumped and quickly swiped at the dampness clinging to her bottom lashes. She scowled at whoever had intruded into the room, and Dean glanced over his shoulder to find Cole standing in the middle of her office, a file folder in hand and a frown in place.

She shot her brother an annoyed look, which didn't do much to cover up the misery still reflected on her face. “When a door is closed, that usually means a person wants privacy, Cole.”

Her brother's gaze took in how upset Jo was, then shifted to Dean. His stare turned harsh and penetrating, protective even. “I didn't know anyone was in here with you.”

“Exactly,” she said irritably. “Next time knock before you barge in.”

Cole strolled up to the front of Jo's desk and tossed the file folder on top of other scattered papers, though his gaze never left Dean's. “Now that your name has been cleared, I thought you'd be long gone.”

Didn't Cole wish, Dean thought. Refusing to let the other man intimidate him in any way, he shrugged. “Just tying up a few loose ends first,” he replied easily, and let Cole come to his own conclusions about that comment.

The room grew silent for long seconds, then Cole spoke again. “Since you're here, it'll save Jo a phone
call. I just received word from Vince. The guy who assumed your identity was taken into custody last night at a warehouse raid where undercover cops traced a stolen vehicle.”

A huge burden had been lifted off of Dean's shoulders, yet one still remained. One he knew he'd carry with him all the way back to Seattle. “Thank you.” Figuring it was time he broke the ice with Jo's brother, he extended his hand across the desk. “That's the best news I've heard all day.”

Cole shook Dean's hand, the fierce lines creasing his expression easing a few degrees, but not completely. “Looks like I owe you an apology for this entire misunderstanding,” he said gruffly.

Dean managed a small smile. “It's definitely been interesting.” And the incident had changed his entire life.

Since Cole wasn't making any attempt to leave Jo's office before he did, Dean was forced to say his final goodbyes in front of her brother. He honestly didn't give a damn that Cole was watching his every move toward his sister. All Dean cared about was leaving Jo with the lasting impression that his feelings for her were genuine and real.

Cupping the back of her neck in his hand so she couldn't pull away, he kissed her trembling lips lightly, hoping like hell it wouldn't be the last time he was allowed the intimate privilege. Then he moved his mouth to her ear and murmured so only she could hear, “When you're ready to let go of the past and embrace the future, you know where to find me.”

He exited her office, heard Cole follow behind, and before he could push through the front door, Cole stopped him.

“I have to ask,” Cole said, his voice rough as he pushed his fingers through his hair in an agitated gesture. “What are your intentions toward Jo?”

Dean thought about Cole's brotherly question and realized Jo was the only person who could supply that particular answer. He shrugged. “That all depends on Jo's intentions toward
me.
”

And both he and Cole were better off letting Jo figure out what she truly desired all on her own, and in her own time.

“Y
OU CERTAINLY HAD
yourself quite an adventurous trip to San Francisco.”

Dean smiled across the restaurant table at his mother, Anne. It was his first night back in Seattle after leaving Jo, and while he'd spent a good part of the day in negotiation meetings at the office, he'd cleared his evening specifically to spend a few hours with his mother.

She'd asked about his shortened vacation, and during their main course he'd entertained her with how he'd been taken into custody by a feisty female bounty hunter in a case of mistaken identity. His mother had been at first shocked and appalled at the thought of him being arrested, then gradually found humor in the situation once he'd assured her that his name had been cleared. And while he'd mentioned Jo in the scheme of his story, for the time being he kept the intimate details of his relationship with her to himself.

“All things considered, it was one of the most enjoyable vacations I can ever remember taking,” he replied, amusement still lingering in his voice. Done with his meal, he placed his fork on his plate and
pushed the dish aside for the waiter to clear away. “Very spontaneous and fun, and just what I needed to clear my head.”

“You do look more relaxed,” Anne commented, then tipped her head and gently scrutinized his features. “But I have to admit I recognize that small, serious crease that appears between your brows when you have something important on your mind.”

He chuckled at his mother's uncanny ability to read him and his shifting moods so well, a skill she'd developed when he was a kid and had spent too much time resenting the choices his father had made that didn't include him. “Actually, there are two things I need to talk to you about.”

She leaned back in her chair as their server approached their table, took their dessert orders, and whisked away their dinner plates.

Once the waiter was gone, she asked, “Is everything okay?”

Drawing a deep, steady breath, he met her curious and concerned gaze. Despite being in her late fifties, his mother was still a beautiful woman and there seemed to be a new warmth and glow about her he'd never noticed before. Then again, had he ever really taken the time to notice the small changes and details around him since taking over the reins of his father's company?

The answer—no—jumped into his mind much too easily.

Since Jo, he seemed so in tune to subtle changes and even the mundane things he'd lived with and ac
cepted for years…such as how quiet and empty his house was. How big his king-sized bed seemed for just one person. And how much he craved the kind of laughter and loving he'd experienced so briefly with Jo.

“Things are okay with me,” he told his mother, knowing he lied. He wouldn't be completely whole until Jo came to her senses and realized they belonged together. “Except a few things happened on my trip to San Francisco and I've made some decisions that will affect you, too.”

She folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently for him to continue.

He grinned wryly. “Would you believe I fell hard for the woman who took me into custody and dragged me all the way back to California?”

Her hazel eyes widened in surprise. “The female bounty hunter?”

He nodded, and refrained from correcting his mother with the politically correct term of “bail enforcement agent” that Jo insisted upon. “I know it happened quickly,” he rushed on to explain, “but without a doubt I'm in love with her.”

His mother's expression softened with genuine understanding, and without judgment. “There is no time limit on how long it takes a person to fall in love with someone, Dean. Sometimes those things happen when you least expect it.” Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her laced fingers. “So why isn't she here with you so I can meet her for myself?”

Dean scrubbed a hand along his jaw, feeling familiar frustration build within him. He'd only been gone a day, yet he missed Jo like he'd never missed anyone in his life. “She's being more obstinate about admitting her feelings, but I'm hoping in time she'll eventually come around.” While he was clinging to positive thoughts in terms of Jo meeting him halfway, he knew the agonizing possibility existed that she'd allow fears to ultimately rule her heart and emotions.

Anne smiled gently. “If this woman is what you truly want, I hope everything works out for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Her unconditional support meant a lot to him and made other momentous decisions easier to divulge. “For me, Jo's definitely ‘the one.' The next step is up to her.”

The waiter arrived, delivering two cups of steaming coffee with their slices of triple-layer chocolate cake. He poured cream into his coffee, then took a bite of the rich dessert which again reminded him of his time spent with Jo, but his mother held off on sampling her confection. Now it was her brows that creased and warned him she had something more serious to discuss.

“I know I've never said as much, but all I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, Dean,” she said quietly.

His mother's words touched him deeply. “It's taken me a while to figure that out for myself, too, but I think I finally have a handle on what I want and need to do at this point in my life.”

“Oh?” she asked, seemingly catching the underlying thread of foreshadowing in his tone.

He washed down a bite of the chocolate cake with a sip of coffee, and didn't mince words. “I've had an offer for the company, and I've decided to sell Colter Traffic Control.”

Instead of the dread or fear he'd anticipated, her features expressed visible relief. “Will you think I'm an awful mother if I tell you that I'm glad?”

His brows rose. “Why would I think that?”

“Because I was hoping you'd sell the company from the day your father died,” she said. “I always suspected that you took over the business out of obligation, but I think I always knew deep in my heart that given tangible choices, you wouldn't have chosen to carry on your father's legacy.”

Dean's jaw nearly dropped at that revelation. “Why didn't you tell me how you felt?”

A small, apologetic shrug lifted her shoulders. “It's something you had to come to realize for yourself, and I didn't want you to resent
me
for making the suggestion of letting go of your father's business.”

He shook his head, stunned. “I had no idea.”

“I know.” Emotion tightened her voice, and she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “For all your father's faults, I do have to say you inherited his best qualities. You're extremely dedicated and you take your responsibilities seriously once you make up your mind to do something. Don't get me wrong. I'm proud of what you did, and I understand your reasons
without even verbalizing them, but it's time for you to make your life what
you
want it to be.”

“And you? You'll be okay?” he asked, needing to hear from his mother that his decision wouldn't hurt her in any way or make her feel any less secure.

“I'm more than okay, Dean.” She inhaled a slow breath before going on. “After living with your father for so many years and never really understanding his way of thinking, I just didn't know what it was that would make you content and satisfied, if that makes sense. When you took over the business after your father died, I thought you did it because that's what you wanted. Yet over the years I've seen you sacrifice so much to keep the company successful and thriving. Now, as a mother talking to her son, not to the single-minded businessman you've been, I'm so pleased to see you finally making your life and future a priority.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

“And now, I have something to share with you, too.” She toyed nervously with her fork, then revealed, “I've been seeing someone for the past few months.”

More surprises, but Dean supposed this evening was a night for revelations. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“You always seemed so busy and distracted, and I never imagined that things would turn so serious so quickly. Like you and your Jo, I've fallen in love with Ted, and I think it's time the two of you met.”

He grinned broadly. “Mom, I think that's wonderful, and I'd love to meet him.”

“He treats me like a queen, dotes on me, and makes me feel so pampered and spoiled.” She blushed like a young girl in the throes of a first crush. “I'm not used to that kind of attention, but I have to say I do like it.”

Dean laughed, enjoying his mother's newfound happiness. “You deserve every bit of the attention, so enjoy it.”

“Oh, I plan to.” Her eyes sparkled with mischievous delight as she sipped her coffee. “So, tell me, what do you plan to do once you sell the company?”

Dean figured it would take a good four to six months to get all his personal business in order, and then he'd be free to strike out on his own, pursue interests, and start over. “I'm going to move to San Francisco.”

“To be near Jo?” his mother guessed.

“Partly,” he said, but knew he couldn't count on the relocation making any difference with Jo if she wasn't willing to commit herself to him and a relationship. “I really like the city and I know there are a ton of opportunities there, or wherever I might look. I just have to figure out which opportunity appeals the most.”

“It seems you and I have finally learned to put ourselves first for a change, haven't we?”

“Yeah, we have.” And it amazed him how one very special, stubborn, vulnerable woman could bring
about such a huge, life-altering change for him.

Unfortunately, he faced the possibility of living the rest of his life without her.

 

J
O TOSSED HER PENCIL
onto her desk and exhaled a heavy sigh. If the past two days without Dean were filled with such deep, emotional misery, she didn't know how she was going to survive the rest of her life without him. She didn't feel like eating, she couldn't sleep at night, and her days were filled with distracting thoughts of him and their time together. She was even haunted by his final, parting words to her.

When you're ready to let go of the past and embrace the future, you know where to find me.

Such a simple statement, yet she found it so much easier to bury herself in her work and try to block out the pain of losing Dean. She knew she was in denial, shying away from grasping the courage to believe in everything he offered and represented: a man who loved her, despite her flaws and imperfect past. Using work as an excuse to avoid facing her deepest insecurities was not only ineffective, it was the coward's way out, she knew. And she abhorred that she lacked the internal fortitude to confront and reconcile her greatest weaknesses—which revolved around the inability to believe in herself, as well as forgive herself for the mistake that had ruled the past two years of her life.

Closing the file on the new case she'd been working on, she stood and went to the window in her office, trying to shake off her disheartened mood. Un
fortunately the bright sunshine and clear view offered no escape from her disturbing thoughts or the more sensual memories of Dean—memories that had a way of edging into her mind when she least expected them.

“Jo, Roseanne Edwards is on line three for you.” Melodie's voice drifted through the intercom on Jo's desk, snapping her out of her bout of regret. “She says it's an emergency.”

“I'll take the call,” she told Melodie, and moved back toward her desk.

Roseanne, a new client, had arrived first thing that morning and literally begged Jo to take on her abduction case. Yesterday her husband, Michael, had violated the terms of his bail for assault and battery to his wife, blatantly ignored restraining orders, and had kidnapped their eight-year-old daughter, Lily, when she'd gone outside to check the mail. According to Roseanne, she and Michael were embroiled in a nasty divorce case over his excessive drinking and abuse, and she'd expressed fear that her husband might hurt the young girl, since he had violent tendencies. While the police had been informed of the abduction, she'd contacted Jo to secure her services to help track her husband.

She picked up the receiver. “What's up, Roseanne?”

“He finally called,” the other woman said, her tone high-pitched and near hysterical. “I heard Lily crying in the background and he's threatening to hurt her if I don't promise to cancel our divorce proceedings. I
told him I'd do anything just so long as he lets her go, but he hung up on me and hasn't called back. Oh, God, what am I going to do?”

Jo tamped down the apprehension that tightened her own chest. “Roseanne, I'll do whatever I can to find your daughter, but you have to stay calm and focused for me.”

“I'll never forgive myself if he hurts Lily,” she said, her voice catching on a sob.

“Nobody is going to hurt Lily, not if I can help it.” It was a promise Jo had no right to give, but she was compelled to offer hope and assurance to Roseanne in any way she could. “I need some personal information from you about your husband to try and track him down quickly.”

“I'll give you anything I have, just so long as you get my baby girl back.”

It took Jo another five minutes to soothe the upset mother enough so that she could gather all the necessary account numbers, passwords, and authorization codes to run a trace on recent activity on their joint credit card accounts. The urgency of the case spurred her on, and once she hung up with Roseanne she jumped on the Internet and the phone to pull in long overdue favors from various sources. She contacted informants and even a retired detective her father used to be good friends with until she gained the valuable information she sought.

Within three hours she'd discovered that Michael Edwards had recently used one of those joint credit cards to check into a low-rate motel in Concord, ap
proximately half an hour outside of Oakland. The trace was a prime piece of evidence, and just what Jo needed to track and find the man holding his own daughter hostage.