The Object of His Protection (5 page)

She jutted out her chin. “But what if you never find those responsible? What if—”

“What if you show a little confidence in my abilities?” he interrupted by saying in a harsh tone. “Now please go back in there and pack like you were supposed to be doing in the first place.”

The silence as well as the tension in the room reached a monumental peak. Drey very seldom got angry, but Charlene was trying his patience big time. Between her and his mother he had been encountering more emotions in one week than in all the years since he was a teenager and his father had died.

Her dark eyes blazed at him. “Fine. I’ll do as you’ve requested.”

About time.
Instead of saying what he felt or the scorching comment that was on the tip of his tongue, he nodded and then walked back over to the window, fully aware of the moment she left the room.

M
umbling under her breath, Charlene began throwing things out of the drawers and onto her bed. Drey had a way of using a tone of command even when he assumed that he was speaking nicely. He had a lot to learn to master the use of persuasive language.

Jeez! She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. First she was forced to take time off her job and now she was forced to move in with the person responsible for her predicament. She was trying hard to control her anger, but it wasn’t working.

The only thing working was the achy feeling in the pit of her stomach at the mere thought of sharing living quarters with Drey. Remembering all the words she had spouted earlier, she felt trapped between a rock and a hard place with no way out. More to the point, she felt as if she would be held hostage. Just the thought that he would have his eyes on her, watching her practically every minute, her every move, didn’t sit well with her. For crying out loud, it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard…but at the same time just as he’d said, it was the only way to ensure her safety.

Not liking the very thought of that, she crossed the room to her closet and flung open the door. She didn’t want to become indebted to Drey for making her the object of his protection, and at the moment she preferred not to feel she owed him anything.

She went through her clothes, wondering what she should take and what she should leave behind. Certain outfits were a must, but then a few others she felt would send Drey the wrong message and she refused to give the man any more ideas than he already had.

A short while later she had loaded everything she felt she needed into the luggage she had taken from underneath her bed. Suddenly everything inside her tensed and she glanced around to find Drey standing casually in the doorway.

She inhaled sharply, trying not to stare. Today he wore boots, a pair of jeans and a blue chambray shirt. His height made him appear taller and his stance exuded lethal sexuality in a way that was heating up the blood flowing through her veins. Earlier at the café when she had looked up and watched him approach her table in a walk that was sexier than anything she’d ever seen, she had been forced to expel a calming breath. She talked with surefire confidence around him when deep down she knew she’d have to watch her guard or she would be in trouble. The last thing she needed was to live under the same roof with a man who got on her nerves one minute and had the ability to cause havoc with her hormones the next.

“Need help with anything?”

Charlene inhaled deeply, forcing herself to relax, but found doing so rather difficult. His deep voice felt like silk across her skin, caressing her in places she rather not think about. She was beginning to regard him as a risk she should avoid taking. The man had all but stated—and in explicit terms—what he would do to her if given the chance. But she was determined to make sure nothing happened between them, no matter how tempting the thought. “No, thank you, I can handle things myself.”

He straightened away from the doorway to move into the room, coming to a stop by the bed. “I’m not so sure that you can. This luggage is a lot bigger than you are.”

“I can handle it,” she said, zipping up the luggage while struggling to keep calm. Sexual chemistry was becoming a constant between them and she wished it would go away, find someone else to torture.

She reached to pull the luggage off the bed the same time Drey did. Their hands touched and she jerked back as if she had been scorched.

“Drey,” she said brusquely. “I told you I could handle it.”

“Yes, and I recall saying the luggage was as big as you are and that I would help.”

Charlene took a step back away from the bed. “Then by all means, flex your muscles. After all, I’m just a weak woman who can’t do anything for herself.”

Drey cocked his head and stared at her with a bit of hardness in his eyes. “What you can do is remove that chip off your shoulder, Charlene.”

With his statement her anger lost some of its punch. Was she acting as if she had a chip on her shoulder? If so, she had good reason. She gave a breathy yet sarcastic laugh. “How would you like to be in my predicament?” she asked in a flippant tone.

“Frankly, I wouldn’t. But I certainly wouldn’t bite the hand that’s trying to help me every chance I got.”

She finger-combed a lock of hair behind her ear and exhaled, putting up a good fight between being defiant and being reasonable. “Look, my day hasn’t gone like I had hoped and I’m in a bad mood. Sorry if it seems that I’m taking it out on you, but being forced to leave my home wasn’t what I’d counted on when I woke up this morning.”

“And I understand and feel somewhat responsible for that. However, our situation is as it is, and to make the most of it I think we need to at least try to work together and not snap at each other at every opportune moment. Don’t you agree?”

Grudgingly, she said, “Yes.”

“Okay then, I believe this calls for a truce,” he said, offering his hand to her.

Charlene paused a moment before accepting his hand. The moment she touched it she knew why she had resisted doing so. Instead of shaking her hand and releasing it, he held on to it, closed his fingers around hers.

“I told you last night that you had pretty hands. What I didn’t get the chance to say is that there’s something about your hand that I find irresistible.”

He turned her hand over and then fingered the lines in the palm, studying them as he did so. She tried to ignore the sensations that raced through her with his touch and was tempted to pull her hand from his as she had done last night.

Moments later, he raised his head and met her gaze. “Do you know anything about Chinese palm reading?”

“No, do you?” She tried not to respond smartly, but it came out that way anyway.

But for once he didn’t seem to mind her tone and actually chuckled. “Yes. My mother is half Chinese and as a child I got a chance to visit her family in China for an entire summer. My great-grandmother explained that Chinese palm reading is an ancient art passed down from generation to generation. By reading the lines in a person’s hands a skilled palm reader can find out everything there is to know about that person.”

“So now you’re claiming to be a palm reader, Drey?”

“Somewhat.”

He sounded serious and she wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but she decided to call his bluff. “Okay, what does mine say?”

He closed her hand before releasing it. “I’ll make a point to tell you one day.”

She lifted a brow, wondering if he’d seen something she should be concerned with, then decided he was probably pulling her leg. “Whatever,” she said, rubbing her hands together, trying to rid them of the feel of his touch that seemed to linger and wouldn’t go away. “I’m ready to leave if you are.”

“Okay.”

She then watched as he effortlessly lifted the luggage off the bed, and followed him from her bedroom. When they got to the living room he glanced over at her phone. “You might want to leave a message giving the impression you’ve left town for a while, just in case anyone is curious enough to check.”

Knowing he had a point, she quickly crossed the room and within minutes had done what he had suggested. When she returned to where he stood and glanced up at him, she noticed how his eyes had darkened and were filled with an intensity she had immediately associated with him.
Desire.
And she knew the cause of it. He had watched her walk across the room, checking out her rear end with every step she had taken.

She frowned. “You have a problem,” she said, knowing he was aware of what she was talking about.

A wry smile curved his lips. “Some men are leg men, others prefer breasts. Personally, I have a fetish for the hind part.” And without waiting for her to comment, he walked off.

Charlene watched him go, thinking since fanny-watching seemed to be fair play, she might as well check out his.
Umm, not bad.
In fact she thought he had a real nice-looking tush.

He stopped when he got to the door and looked over his shoulder at her and gave her a smile that only heightened his sexiness. “Like what you see?”

She could lie and say no, she didn’t like it, but decided this was one time she would be honest with him…up to a point. “Possibly.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. And to answer your question from earlier, about what I see in your hands…. One thing I found interesting is the fact you are a very passionate woman.”

A passionate woman?
Who was he kidding? “If you say so.”

“I do and one day I intend to prove it to you.”

His ultimate goal, Drey thought, was to finish the investigation and make it possible for Charlene to return to her home—but not before he had taken her to bed. He glanced over at her, saw the way she avoided looking at him by keeping her eyes focused on the scenery outside the car window, and wondered what she would think of his plans if she knew them, especially the part about him sleeping with her.

He didn’t mind letting her know that he wanted her. It would be hard keeping something like that a secret anyway while they lived under the same roof. But she didn’t have to know she was at the top of his to-do list. He had given her fair warning, but for some reason she didn’t believe him.

He’d even left it up to her as to how she would handle him and the situation. However, for some reason she assumed she could keep sexual urges, tension and good old chemistry at bay by doing nothing and pretending they didn’t exist between them. What planet had she been living on most of her life?

Any hot-blooded adult knew the best way to handle red-hot lust was to work the person out of your system and move on, which was something he intended to do. He could handle her bouts of anger just as he would be able to handle whatever degree of desire she had the ability to whip up within him. As he had told her earlier, she was a passionate woman. Not only could he feel it in her hands, but he had tasted it in her kiss and he could even pick it up in her scent. The way he was doing now.

“Tell me about your family, Drey.”

Her words cut into his thoughts and he glanced over at her. For reasons unbeknownst to her, his family was the last thing he wanted to talk about. He brought his car to a stop at a traffic light, inclined his head and said, “How about telling me about yours?”

From her expression he could tell she hadn’t expected that. It was obvious she preferred not talking about her family, but since she had been the one to bring up the subject, he figured that eventually she would respond.

It took her a while and then she said, “My parents divorced when I was ten. I took their divorce hard until I realized they were happier living apart. Neither of them liked the idea of being single so they remarried quickly, and before you ask, no, not to each other. My mother is into her fourth marriage and Dad is involved with wife number three. I’m the only child they had together, but I have a number of stepsisters and stepbrothers.”

“And do you get along with them?”

She shrugged. “Most of the time. But then there have been occasions when they avoid me like I avoid them.”

She glanced over at him when he stopped the car to another traffic light. “What about you? Are you an only child?”

He thought about her question and decided to answer it the way he felt best. “Yes. My father was a cop. He died when I was in my teens. My mom is still alive and in good health.”

“How did your dad die?”

“In the line of duty,” he said, remembering that day so clearly in his mind.

“Sorry.”

“So was I,” he said automatically, noticing how his voice had lowered, how he still felt pain after all these years. And then he added, “We were close.” After saying those words he wondered why he had told her that. His relationship with his father had never been up for discussion with anyone other than his mother.

“Is that why you became a policeman?”

“Pretty much,” he said evenly, knowing that
had
been the reason. “Dad was a good cop and I wanted to be like him. I was on the streets a few years before I decided I didn’t want to put up with all the beauracacy that went along with it.”

“So you became a private investigator instead?”

“Yes.” He remembered how much Harmon had played into that decision and the support he had given him. “And I’ve never regretted it, although the first few years were hard. Clients were scarce.” He chuckled. “And it took me forever to solve my first case.”

“Tell me about it.”

Drey glanced over at her. She seemed truly interested and wasn’t just asking for conversation’s sake. He didn’t say anything for several long moments and then he began talking and was surprised how easy it was to open up to her. He remembered the case as if it were yesterday when Sharon Mosley had shown up at his office and hired him to get the goods on her cheating husband. It hadn’t been the type of case he’d wanted starting out, but it had eventually paid the bills. When it had come to adultery, Kent Mosley had covered his tracks well, refusing to let his wife of thirty-something years get anything on him that could entice her to take him to the cleaner’s. His luck finally ran out when Drey captured on film the man making out with the wife of one of his business associates.