Not Without Risk (17 page)

Paige set her mug aside. She grazed his knuckles in a light caress. “Figured what
out, Justin?” A muscle in his jaw ticked. His throat began to work, but no explanation
came. She didn’t need one. “You don’t believe in happily-ever-after.”

He stared at her, his expression intense. “I don’t believe in love.”

Her heart knotted in her chest. Ignoring the alarm blaring in the back of her mind,
she shifted closer. He didn’t bother breaking the intimate contact, just closed his
thighs around hers. Her skin heated beneath her jeans. Her mind clouded with desire
at this smallest of contact.

Paige had lost count of the times she’d told herself to stay away from him. She couldn’t
stay away from him. Even as his words confirmed without a doubt they had no future
together, the vulnerability in his eyes called out to her. She removed her fingers
from his and slid her left hand up his chest to cup his jaw. His gaze warmed, the
color of his eyes deepened as she dragged her fingers back and forth across the scruff
of his beard stubble.

He would never love her.

She shifted her hand again, this time boldly smoothing her fingers across his lips.
What should have been the catalyst that pushed her across the room drew her closer.

Justin reached up and curled his fingers around her wrist. “Be sure you want this,”
he warned in a low growl. “I can’t make you any promises.”

She didn’t want any promises. She wasn’t looking to the future or worrying about the
intelligence of her decision. For once, she wanted to live in the moment. To let reason
slip and need take its place. “I want this,” she whispered, her thumb exploring his
bottom lip. “I want you.”

The hand he held curled around her wrist flexed once, otherwise he did not move. She
pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and stood, straddled his legs and settled
atop his lap, her knees hugging his hips. The hard press of his erection shot white
hot desire through her body like lightning bolts and drove a little growl of pleasure
from the back of her throat.

He pulled her even closer, plowed his fingers into her hair and arched her head back.
They were inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes, breathing the same air. His
eyes weren’t cool now, they simmered with life, with greed and desire. His mouth hovered
over hers for what seemed like an eternity then settled.

He was gentle at first, then, as she surrendered, his mouth explored hers with greater
intent. He kissed her almost roughly, completely on fire, sweeping his tongue possessively
into her mouth. His hands settled on her hips, gliding upward beneath her shirt until
his palms closed over her naked breasts. His moan of approval, so raw and husky, vibrated
into her mouth and made her heart pound even harder. The sensation of bare flesh against
bare flesh sent waves of heat spiraling from her head to her toes. Her nipples hardened.
Her belly quivered.

Arching her back, she pressed herself firmly into his palms and invited his hands
to explore her more fully. He did, rolling her straining nipples between his fingers
then worrying them with the friction of his palms. Her body shuddered. Wet heat flooded
her core.

“Paige,” he breathed, as his mouth plundered her throat, fastened on that incredibly
sensitive spot beneath her ear, then continued down to fasten on one of her breasts.
He drew in the rigid tip of her nipple and sucked.

Her lips parted on a quiet moan. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded
her fingers into his hair as pleasure arrowed through her system. The hot wet feel
of his mouth on her was almost more than she could handle. And yet, it wasn’t enough.
His hands smoothed down her sides to settle on her hips. His fingers curled into her
flesh as he used his teeth, his tongue, his lips.

A gasp escaped her when he lifted her, sealing his torso to hers as he settled her
along the length of the couch in one smooth motion. Bracing himself with his arms
to keep his weight from crushing her, he came down on top of her, shifting his hips
and pressing his erection more fully against her. His mouth returned to hers in a
dizzying kiss.

She wanted to touch him. It took her breath away, the wanting. It made her shake.
With trembling hands, she tugged the shirt from his waistband, desperate to explore
the muscled planes of his chest. But then she froze.

“Justin!”

The sound of a woman’s voice carried into the room from the kitchen along with the
steady tap of shoes on the tiled floor. With his mouth pressed against the hollow
of her throat, she heard Justin’s mumbled curse clearly. She wiggled, attempting to
shift his weight enough for her to slide out from under him, but he ignored her efforts.

“Shh, maybe she’ll go away.”

“Justin, are you home?” The voice moved closer. “Justin?”

Her shirt was snagged somewhere above her naked breasts. Paige disengaged her hands
from Justin’s body, pulling her shirt down and covering herself just as a woman’s
face appeared above them.

“Oh, my!”

One look at the stunned expression on the woman’s face and Paige began to squirm.
She pushed her palms firmly against Justin’s chest, eager to untangle their bodies
and assume a position a whole lot less compromising. He didn’t budge. When she hazarded
a quick glance toward him, her plea for release died before it passed her lips.

Pleasure darkened his eyes as he stared at her. He used the back of his fingers to
ever so gently brush the hair away from her temples and out of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I didn’t realize.”

Justin sat up slowly, draped his left arm over the back of the couch. “Hey, Mom. What
brings you around today?”

Mom?
Paige pushed herself into the opposite corner of the couch and blinked. She struggled
to clear the fog from her mind and concentrate. No way had she heard him correctly.
This stunning woman who stood before her couldn’t be his mother. Tall and blonde,
she was perfectly dressed, hair and makeup in place. Thanks to remarkable bone structure,
she had the look of someone too young to have a son Justin’s age.

“I can’t believe it,” his mother replied.

Neither could Paige. Quickly, she scanned her gaze over herself, making certain she
was properly covered.

Justin smiled at his mother, totally unapologetic while Paige felt a heated blush
warm her cheeks.

“You have a woman here.” Her tone was more wonder than accusation. “To say I am surprised
would be an understatement.”

Before Paige had a split second to process his mom’s words, Justin made introductions.
“Yes, I do. This is Paige Conroy. Paige is…a friend of mine.”

Her dark eyes, so like her son’s, calmly took in the scene. “So I see.” A knowing
smile lit her face, brought out the dimple in her left cheek. “I certainly didn’t
mean to interrupt.”

Justin cocked his head. “If I pointed out you did just that, would you leave?”

Smirking, she swatted his arm. “No. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

“She tried. They didn’t stick.”

“Obviously.” As she spoke, her gaze settled once again on Paige. She extended her
hand. “Since my rude son isn’t going to do this, I will. Thelma Kincaid.”

“Nice to meet you,” Paige said, returning Thelma’s handshake.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Thelma stated as she tugged at the crease on her slim
navy slacks and slid a hip onto the back of the couch near Justin’s outstretched arm.
“I never stopped to think that I might be, for you see, Justin has never brought a
woman into his home before.”

Surely that couldn’t be. Paige shifted her gaze to Justin, as his mother continued
without pause.

“He has this idea that women start to think they have certain rights after spending
time at his place. Though how he would know is beyond me.”

An easy smile played the corners of Justin’s mouth. “Wonderful, isn’t she?”

His mother laughed in response. “I don’t mean to give away all of your secrets.”

“Of course you do.”

“Not at all. Doing so was not in my plans when I stopped by this afternoon. I only
wanted to drop off my shower gift for Allan and his wife.” As she spoke, Thelma motioned
through the swinging door Paige had left propped open, and toward the kitchen table
where a large box sat, artfully wrapped in pale yellow and tied with varying shades
of the same color. “Their baby shower is today, isn’t it?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Really Justin, the man is your best friend as well as your partner.”

“Yes, he is.”

“But you don’t know whether Suzanne’s shower is today?”

“Must have slipped my mind. Baby showers just aren’t my thing.”

Smiling, Paige watched the interplay between mother and son. Now that she looked closer,
it was easy to see the two shared genetics. They both had the same dark brown eyes,
the same smile, even the same dimple in their left cheek.

“You know, Justin, it might do you some good to pay attention to these things. Someday,
you know—”

“Mom. Please don’t start. It’s been a busy week.”

“Do tell.” Thelma placed her hand on his forearm.

“You know I can’t talk about work.”

She sighed and turned her attention to Paige. “Paige, what a beautiful name. Were
you named after someone?”

“Not that I was ever told, no.”

“Interesting. Justin, he was named for my great-grandfather who was killed in The
Great War.”

“World War One, really?” Paige wondered whether Thelma Kincaid was always this friendly,
or if the fact that she’d walked in on her son in a clinch with a woman had anything
to do with it. She sent a questioning look at Justin.

“Yes,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “She’s always like this.”

His mother ignored him. “Tell me, Paige, where did you meet my son?”

“Work,” Justin replied before Paige could answer.

Thelma’s eyes widened. One perfectly arched brow rose.

“A friend of mine was murdered,” Paige explained.

“I’m so sorry, dear.” All humor left her face. “Were you hurt, too? Is that what happened
to your face?”

“Umm…”

“Yes,” Justin said, saving her from a long explanation. “That’s what happened to her
face.”

“That’s terrible. It looks so painful.”

Paige opened her mouth to reply but Thelma never gave her the chance.

“Did they catch whoever hurt you? What about your friend, did my son catch whoever
killed your friend?”

“Mom.”

Her gaze never left Paige. “It’s all very interesting, isn’t it?”

Maybe if it happened to someone else.

“Don’t worry dear,” Thelma continued, undaunted by Paige’s lack of response. “My son
will…Justin?”

The knife-sharp edge of concern in his mother’s voice drew Paige’s attention to Justin.
His expression stilled and grew serious. He aimed a slight, almost imperceptible shake
of his head to his mother, who continued without acknowledging.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course.”

“Justin, your arm.”

“I’m fine.”

“But—”

“Mom,” he countered instantly, his tone evoking no argument. “Let it go.”

Thelma Kincaid nodded as she slid off the back of the couch. “Fine,” she stated softly,
worry wrinkling the fine lines about her eyes. It was not difficult to see that she
wanted to say more. “I’ll just be on my way. Make certain Allan gets that gift, will
you? A pleasure meeting you, Ms. Conroy.”

“Nice meeting you.”

The room fell silent as Thelma made her way to the kitchen. When the door clicked
shut behind her, Paige turned to Justin. “What’s going on?”

The slow curving of his lips was meant to reassure. “Nothing.”

She pushed her hand through her hair and told herself she should let it go. She couldn’t.
She reached out and closed her hand over his arm. “Justin, my God, you’re trembling.”

“It’s nothing.”

Before she could argue, he slid his arm out from under her hand and stood. He tucked
the fingers of his left hand into his jeans pocket and rolled his shoulder three times,
the entire time watching her with an ‘I dare you to argue with me’ gleam in his eyes.

She opened her mouth to do just that when the sudden ringing of a telephone stopped
her. Justin crossed the room, retrieving his cell from atop the desk.

“Harrison.” He listened for a minute, his mouth turning down into a frown. “I’m on
my way.” He replaced the phone before turning back to her. “I gotta go.”

“Work?”

“Yes.”

Meaning someone had died.

Shoulders squared, he disappeared into the bedroom. A few moments later he came back
out, a chambray shirt tucked into his jeans, boots on his feet. Silently, he returned
to the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. She watched him as he strapped his
shoulder holster into place. Watched, as he slid his back-up weapon into his boot
and then clipped his gold shield to his belt before scooping up his cell phone.

As she watched, she waited for the fear that normally accompanied any reminder of
his job to grab her by the throat. For her heart to begin thumping wildly against
her sternum and her breath to back up.

It didn’t.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

The change in his eyes and stiffening of his stance told her he had already slipped
into work mode. She waited for him to close her out, or forget her presence altogether.
That didn’t happen either.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he said, crossing to her. Justin slid his right arm
around her waist and brought her to her feet. He drew her to him slowly, until their
bodies met, and pressed his mouth to hers for a single, closed-lipped kiss. “Lock
the door behind me.”

Taken aback, Paige found herself unable to reply. He released her, headed through
the kitchen and walked out the door.

Mechanically, she followed and did as he instructed.

* * * * *

With the orange glow of the setting sun streaming through the clear glass, Justin
stood before his living room window, his unfocused gaze aimed at the cool, spring
night. Dressed in jeans and a gaping chambray shirt, he raked his fingers through
his hair and waited for the absolute silence of the house to soothe his jagged nerves.