Against the Tide (10 page)

Liv exchanged a look with Rafe.

“We'll let the police handle it for now,” he said. “If you're right, they'll figure it out and start looking again. But you have to know, Cassie, there is always a chance Chip is guilty.”

Tears welled in the girl's hazel eyes, making them more brown than green. “You won't stop looking, will you? You won't let Chip take the blame while the real killer gets away?” She turned to Liv. “You'll keep helping, right? I'll do anything you want me to, but I don't know where to begin and I . . .” She swallowed and more tears welled. “I'm pregnant.”

Liv's heart squeezed. She'd heard rumors, hadn't been sure if they were true. She figured Cassie would tell her when the time was right. Now the girl had lost the man she loved and her baby would grow up without its father.

Cassie wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. “We . . . we didn't tell anyone but my mom. I'm only a few weeks along and Scotty said he didn't want anyone to think he was marrying me for any reason except that he loved me. Please, Liv, say you'll keep helping Rafe.”

“Of course I will. I'm not stopping, Cassie, I promise you. You just worry about taking care of yourself and your baby.”

“We'll keep looking,” Rafe promised. “We're going to make sure the police find the right man. You need to believe that, honey.”

Cassie swallowed. Wiping fresh tears from her cheeks, she nodded.

“I'll drive you home,” Rafe said. The glance he cast Liv told her he had hoped for a different ending to the evening, but from what Liv knew about Rafe, he wasn't a man who shirked his responsibilities. With Scotty gone—and now that there was going to be a baby—as far as Rafe was concerned, Cassie was in his care.

They all slid out of the booth and Rafe walked the petite young woman to the door. “I'll call if I hear anything,” he said to Liv.

“No matter what time,” she told him.

“All right. I'll see you tomorrow.”

She watched the two of them walk outside, feeling strangely deflated. Some part of her had actually imagined Rafe taking her home with him, making mad, passionate love to her. It wouldn't be a smart thing to do. She would be letting down her guard even more than she had already.

Chip's arrest had ended any chance of that happening. For tonight at least, she'd been granted a reprieve.

But with each day that passed, Olivia was less and less sure a reprieve was what she wanted.

Chapter Twelve

Rafe walked Cassie to the front door, then went inside and checked the rooms to be sure no one was there. The man she lived with had been murdered. Until Rafe was damned sure the right man was locked up in jail and the motive was clear for Scotty's death, he wasn't about to take any chances.

“Thanks, Rafe,” Cassie said as he headed back out the door. “I really appreciate what you're doing. We all do.”

He just nodded and returned to the Expedition. Chip had been arrested. The cops believed he was the man who'd killed Scotty. So why did Rafe have this nagging suspicion they were wrong?

As he started driving home, he thought of the evening he had planned, a night that ended with Liv Chandler in his bed. But nothing was more important than finding Scott Ferris's killer. He wished he could convince himself that arresting Reed had solved the problem, but he just didn't buy it.

Restless energy churned through him. Too jacked to go home and sleep, he drove past the café and saw the lights had all been turned out, the restaurant closed for the night. Telling himself to keep driving, he turned instead at the corner and pulled into a space near the front of the apartment upstairs. Liv's single-car garage behind the café took up space underneath.

There was an intercom next to the gate at the fenced-in area that led to the outside staircase, and stickers warned the place was fully alarmed. The lady was nothing if not careful.

Rafe pressed the buzzer, heard Khan begin to bark in the yard out back. The big dog couldn't get into the entry, but he was letting his mistress know someone was outside. With recent events, Rafe was glad Liv had the dog for protection.

He pressed the buzzer again. He wasn't sure what Olivia was going to say when she realized he was there, but he wasn't leaving until he knew. Rafe pushed the buzzer again.

 

 

Liv stood next to the intercom in the entry of her apartment, her heart pounding from the shot of adrenaline Khan's barking had sent through her. She rarely used the front entrance, mostly came in through the back. The front door was for deliveries, the postman, and the few guests who visited who didn't work in the café.

The buzzer sounded again, and Liv pressed the reply button. “Who is it?”

“It's Rafe. I need to talk to you.”

Relief trickled through her. It was Rafe. Nothing to be afraid of. He probably had some sort of news. “Come on up.” She pushed the release buzzer, disabling the alarm and allowing the gate to swing open. A few seconds later, his heavy footfalls pounded up the stairs.

A fresh shot of adrenaline hit her. Dear God, what was she thinking? Rafe Brodie was coming up to her apartment! Had she gone mad?

Then he was there, rapping on her door. She glanced around. She kept the place neat and clean. It was simply her nature. He rapped again, a little impatiently, she thought. No time to retrieve the boots she'd pulled off to give her feet a rest after such a long workday.

Barefoot and slightly disheveled, Liv took a deep breath and pulled open the door. “Hi. Has something happened?”

Rafe stepped into the apartment, making it seem suddenly smaller. “No, darlin', not yet.” Those dark eyes zeroed in on her mouth. “But it's way past time it did.” Closing the door behind him, he pulled her into his arms, bent his head and his mouth came down over hers.

For a moment, Liv just stood there, feeling the heat of those firm male lips and a rush of desire so fierce her knees went weak. Calling herself ten kinds of a fool, she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

The kiss went wilder, hotter, deeper, a demand that seemed to have no end. Pressed against him, she could feel his hard-muscled body, feel his heat and his rigid arousal. Her fingers slid into the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck and she bit back a moan. She moved anxiously against him, wanting more.

She thought he'd be as impatient to take things further as he had been to get in the door, but instead, he slowed, began to taste and coax, his lips softer than she remembered, melding perfectly with hers.

Bending his head to the side of her neck, he kissed her there, nipped an earlobe, took her mouth in one of those deep, burning kisses again.

A whimpering sound escaped from her throat. Rafe kept kissing her, pausing only long enough to shed his jacket and toss it away, then his mouth was on hers again.

Her heart was hammering. She kept forgetting to breathe. Her fingers dug into the heavy muscles across those swimmer's shoulders. Rafe's hands slid down to cup her bottom, and he pulled her into the vee between his legs, letting her feel his erection.

He was big and he was hard. She wanted to rip off his clothes and just look at him. She wanted to touch every inch of that perfect male body. Her fingers shook as they moved to the front of his denim shirt and she started unfastening the buttons.

Rafe grabbed the bottom of her black turtleneck sweater and peeled it off over her head, knocking her hair clip loose, sending it spinning across the hardwood floor. Her hair tumbled free and he grabbed a fistful, wrapped it around his hand and dragged her mouth back to his for another burning kiss.

A sob caught in her throat. She was hot all over, her nipples hard, her breasts aching. A soft, relentless pulsing throbbed between her legs.

“God, I want you,” he whispered between fiery kisses.

“Rafe . . .” The sound of his name on her lips seemed to enflame him.

The gold in his eyes glittered as he unsnapped the front of her black lace bra, dragged it off her shoulders and tossed it away. Then his mouth was there, taking the fullness, sucking hard, torturing the tip with his straight, white teeth.

Pleasure tore through her. She felt dizzy and on fire. She couldn't think of anything but touching him. He dragged off his shirt, and her hands slid over the bands of muscle on his chest, through the light furring that arrowed down to his narrow waist. She skimmed kisses over his sun-darkened skin, let her hand glide down to the front of his jeans to cup his hardened sex.

Rafe groaned low and deep. She felt his hand at her waist, felt the snap pop on her jeans, then he slid them down her legs and they disappeared. Kissing her again, he backed her against the wall, parted her legs and began to stroke her through her panties. She heard him open his belt, heard the buzz of his zipper sliding down, vaguely realized he had freed himself.

His hands skimmed over her hips, his fingers curled around the tiny, bright-pink lace thong she was wearing, and his hot, brown eyes followed, sliding down her near-naked body.

For the first time, he paused. “Jesus, Liv, those are just too damned pretty to rip off.”

She was hot and she was wet and he was driving her insane. Liv reached down, grabbed hold of her lacy pink thong and ripped it away, tossed it across the room.

Those molten eyes darkened, turned almost black. The lion was free, she thought as his mouth crushed down in a deep, erotic kiss that sapped the last of her will. Vaguely it occurred to her the lion had been stalking her for weeks.

Lifting her up, he wrapped her legs around his waist and cupped her bottom in his two big hands. Liv cried out as he buried himself to the hilt, then gritted his teeth and suddenly went still.

“You all right, baby?”

She was tight and she felt unbelievably full, but she was okay. She made a little sound and nodded.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“You aren't hurting me. Please, Rafe, forgodsake don't stop.”

His mouth faintly curved the instant before he claimed her lips in another searing kiss and started to move. Long, deep thrusts had her tingling all over. The feel of his hard length made her insides go tight and hot.

Rafe kissed the side of her neck. “I've never wanted a woman the way I want you.” And then he was driving deep, thrusting hard, carrying her higher and higher, closer and closer to the peak.

“Rafe . . .” she whispered, clinging to his neck, her body strung tight, bowing, hovering near climax.

Rafe didn't stop, just kept up the hard, relentless rhythm that had her whole body shaking with need.

“Come for me, darlin',” he softly commanded, and the words, spoken in that deep, sexy voice, sent her over the edge.

Her body tightened around him, and deep, saturating pleasure rolled through her, washed out through her limbs.

“Rafe . . .” she whispered as he drove into her again; then his big body tightened, his muscles went rigid, and he followed her to release.

For long seconds they just stood there, her arms around his neck, her head against his shoulder. When he finally let go, her legs slid down to the floor, but they felt boneless and numb, and she wasn't sure they were going to hold her up.

Rafe kissed her briefly and left her a moment, and she realized he was taking care of the condom she hadn't realized he'd put on.

He returned, wordlessly lifted her into his arms, and started striding down the hall. “Which one?” he asked.

“First door on the right.”

He turned into the master bedroom, his belt buckle clanking, and it occurred to her that she was totally naked while Rafe still wore his jeans and heavy leather boots.

Embarrassment washed through her. Dear Lord, she'd been so hot for him she hadn't bothered to let him get undressed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and settled her in his lap. She wasn't a small woman but he made her feel that way.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “I just hope I didn't make a fool of myself. I didn't even wait for you to take off your clothes.”

He chuckled, lifted her up, turned and settled her in the bed. “That's all right. I'll take care of it now.”

Her eyes widened as he sat back down, bent over and untied his laces and took off his boots, stripped off his jeans and briefs.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “What do you think you're doing?”

Hot, hungry eyes fixed on her face. “You didn't think we were finished?”

“Well, I—”

He reached down and cupped her cheek. “Not by a long shot, darlin'.” Leaning over, he started kissing her, stirring the long-buried need she'd felt before, making her ache for him again. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was too dangerous.

But her body didn't seem to care. Liv slid her fingers into his thick, dark hair and kissed him.

He was hers, at least for tonight. Tomorrow was still a day away.

 

 

Liv awakened to the sound of pans clanging in her galley kitchen. For an instant, she went tense. Then she remembered that Rafe had come to her apartment, that he had made mad, passionate love to her, just as she had imagined.

No, that wasn't right. There was no way in hell she could ever have imagined a night in bed with Rafe Brodie. The man was insatiable. She hadn't realized it was possible to make love three times in one night and again in the morning. Multiple orgasms, she had wrongly believed, were a myth. Ha!

A soft smile curved her lips. She sat up in the bed, feeling boneless and content in a way she never had before.

She heard him moving around in the kitchen, thought of what that implied, and her smile slowly faded. Last night had been amazing. More than she ever could have hoped for, but it was over.

When Rafe appeared in the doorway, dressed once more in his jeans, denim shirt, and work boots, carrying a tray with a tall, white porcelain mug steaming with rich, dark coffee, a buttered, perfectly toasted English muffin, and a dish of strawberry jam, she nearly bolted out of bed.

A glance at the clock told her she'd overslept, dear God, by almost two hours. Well, part of the morning she'd been asleep, the other part . . . She tried to block the memory of Rafe's hard body spooned behind her, his soft kisses against the back of her neck. She tried not to think how he'd felt moving inside her.

“I overslept,” she said lamely. “I can't remember the last time I did that. I have to get to work. Can you please hand me my robe? It's in the closet.” She pointed in that direction, the sheet pulled up over her breasts, which still carried patches of pink left by his late-night beard.

“It's all right, baby, I talked to Nell.” Rafe set the tray on the dresser. “I told her we had some work to do on the case. She said not to worry. She and Katie have everything under control.”

“You . . . you . . . talked to Nell? She knows you spent the night?”

He shrugged those wide shoulders, looking amused and not the least repentant. “The Expedition's out front. Didn't take a brain surgeon to figure I was up here with you.”

Her chest felt tight. She should have sent him away. Now half the town would know she had slept with Rafe Brodie. “Don't you have a charter today? Surely you must have some kind of work to do.”

“One of the engines on
Sea Dragon
is out. Mo's taking
Scorpion
, combining my charter with his.”

“Well, I have to work,” she said tartly. “Please hand me my robe.”

He didn't, of course, just stood there watching her for several long moments. “I should have known you'd run. You've been doing that for weeks.”

“What are you talking about? I'm not running from anything.”

“Did you think after I had you, I was just going to walk away?”

Her breath hitched.
After I had you.
The words made her think of sex all over again. After the hours she'd spent in bed with him, it was impossible. Surely. Wasn't it?

“You don't own me. Just because we made love—”

He moved closer. “We had sex, Liv. You want it to be more than that, don't try to push me away.” That sexy mouth edged up. “It won't work anyway. What happened between us last night . . . it isn't always that way, and you know it. We're good together. You want more, and so do I.”