Witness Seduction (8 page)

The confession burned in his chest, but he couldn’t reveal the truth now. She’d kick him out, and then who would be there to protect her if Grier showed up?

“Caleb?” Her voice cut through his thoughts. “Are you staying?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“Good, because I’m way too tired to walk you out.”

With a contented little sigh, she pulled the bedspread up and over the two of them. Then she slung one slender arm over his bare chest and gave another purr of pleasure.

“You realize you wore me out, right? I’m lucky I don’t have to work tomorrow or I’d probably doze off in the middle of removing a catheter,” she said with a sleepy laugh.

He continued stroking her hair, then stopped abruptly when he realized the gesture felt too damn right.

Okay, it was official. He was in deep, deep trouble here. Sleeping with Marley was one thing, but cuddling? Petting her? Whispering in the darkness? This was not good. In fact, all this non-sex stuff was far more dangerous than sex itself. It was relationship stuff. Commitment stuff. And he definitely didn’t do either of those.

He had tried making connections over the years. He’d latched on to his first few foster mothers, pathetically begging for their love, only to be carted off to another house within months. After that, he got smart. What was the point in opening yourself up to another person when they would only kick you aside sooner or later?

Smothering a sigh, he forced the memories from his head. “Did you always want to be a nurse?” he found himself asking.

She was silent for a moment. “No.”

Her response aroused his curiosity. “What did you want to be then?”

He gave an inward groan after he’d spoken. What was wrong with him? Why was he so fascinated by her? He couldn’t for the life of him remember ever asking the woman in his bed what she wanted to be when she grew up. He didn’t care about things like that. Didn’t care about anything but getting pleasure and giving it right back.

Until now. Now, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting to know everything about this woman.

“I was accepted to the fine arts program at UCLA,” she confessed. “I’ve always loved art. Creating things.”

“I can tell,” he said, thinking about how passionately she’d thrown herself into making her house look beautiful. “So what happened?”

“My mom was admitted to the hospital.” Marley’s voice shook. “She was in so much pain. The cancer…it destroyed her inside and out, and I would sit by her side watching it, wishing I could do something to help her.”

She fell silent again. Caleb waited for her to continue, all the while trying to ignore the strange somersaults his heart was doing.

“I enrolled in nursing school the day after she died,” Marley finally said. “I couldn’t help my mom, but that way I could at least help other people.”

It suddenly became extremely hard to breathe. She had become a nurse because she hadn’t been able to help her mother in her dying hours. God, what a woman. Shame gripped his gut in a tight vise. And here he was, lying to her.

“How did your mom die?” Marley asked, her tone gentle.

“Overdose.” He’d been prepared to avoid the question, maybe even pretend to be asleep, so when that one word burst out of his mouth, he was overcome with shock. Why had he just told her that?

“And you were five?” she pressed, obviously remembering the meager details he’d provided.

“Yeah.” It became difficult to draw a breath. “I was watching TV in our bedroom—we only had one bedroom in the apartment—and I went out to the living room to ask about dinner and…she was just lying there on the carpet.” His chest went impossibly tight. “I remember shaking her, crying for her to wake up, but…she didn’t wake up. She was already dead.”

“Oh, Caleb,” Marley whispered. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

He tried to shrug it off. “I got over it.”

There was a short silence, and then Marley released a small sigh. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, turning her head to press a tender kiss to his chest.

What was the matter with him? Why had he told her about his mother? He hadn’t even told Russ about that day, and Russ had been his best friend. His only friend.

He lay very still, trying to navigate the confusion clouding his brain. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to sleep with her. To share his past with her.

Growing up, he’d been guided by a sense of justice, going into drug enforcement because it was the only way he knew to find some sort of vengeance for his mother’s death. He lived his life by a code of honor. There was a distinct line between right and wrong.

But Marley was blurring that line. His body ached at the feel of Marley snuggled up close to him. He listened to her breathing grow steady, felt her muscles loosen with slumber, and as he lay there beside her, he realized she was far more dangerous than he’d given her credit for.

M
ARLEY WOKE UP
the next morning with a smile on her face and a naked man in her bed. Caleb was sound asleep beside her, lying on his stomach with one strong arm flung over her belly. Her smile widened. God, he was breathtaking. His stubble-covered cheek rested against the pillow, his dark hair messy and falling onto his proud forehead. And his face lost all of its hard edges in slumber. He looked peaceful, younger.

Trying not to wake him, she moved his arm and slid out of bed. Then she walked into the washroom, heading for the small shower stall. A jolt of pain hit her big toe.

“Shoot,” she muttered, noticing that one of the tiles was loose. Good thing she was planning on retiling after she finished painting.

She opened the glass door of the shower stall, and as she turned the faucet and adjusted the temperature, she realized she was actually pretty sore. A slight ache between her legs, but one she was willing to overlook because last night had been totally worth it. She stepped into the shower and dunked her head under the hot spray, then turned to let the water slide down her body.

Her muscles sighed with relief as the water pounded against them. She was on her feet nearly every day of the week and did yoga regularly, but one night with the talented Caleb Ford had completely wiped her out. It had never been like that with anyone, not even Patrick.

The smile on her face faded as the memory of the last man she’d been with pushed its way into her head and the implication of what she’d done settled over her. Was she crazy? After what had happened with Patrick, she’d vowed to be more cautious, and yet she’d just slept with a man she’d known for less than a week.

She slowly lathered her skin with strawberry-scented body wash, forcing her mind to quit over analyzing. It was just sex. Really great sex. Wasn’t like she’d gotten engaged to the man.

Shutting off the faucet, she toweled off and left the bathroom, slipped into a pair of denim shorts and a red tank, and turned her attention to the man on the bed.

He was wide awake, and sporting a very familiar expression on his face.

The same shuttered stare he’d donned yesterday when he’d told her sleeping together wasn’t a good idea.

“I’m going to make some breakfast,” she announced. “Do you like pancakes?”

“I love them,” he said quietly.

“Good. They’ll be ready by the time you come down.”

She headed downstairs, trying to forget about how stiff his shoulders had looked. Maybe he simply wasn’t a morning person. Like her brother—Sam could be a total ass before he had his morning coffee.

When Caleb walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, his hair damp from the shower and his blue eyes alert, she handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“Thanks.” He took it gratefully, and sipped the hot liquid.

Marley moved back to the stove and flipped a pancake, wishing he wasn’t being so distant. It was easy to pick up on the waves of tension rolling off him. Finally she turned to him and asked, “Everything okay?”

He didn’t speak for a moment, just headed to the kitchen table and lowered his big body onto a chair. A line of indecision creased his forehead, and when he opened his mouth, she got the feeling she wouldn’t like what he said.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, hopefully these will help.” She turned off the burner, then walked over to the table and placed a plate loaded with pancakes in front of him.

Almost instantly, his expression perked up. She suppressed a grin. Men and their stomachs.

He inhaled the delicious aroma of blueberries and buttermilk, and groaned. “You neglected to mention you could cook like this.”

“I only do breakfast,” she clarified as she sat across the table. “For some reason it’s all I can manage. Lunch and dinner? I’m lucky I haven’t burned down the kitchen yet.”

Caleb chuckled. “Thank God for that.”

She picked up her knife and fork and cut her pancake in half, then fourths, then eighths. She noticed Caleb watching her in amusement as she finally brought a bite-size piece to her lips.

“You cut it up in advance?” he said with a laugh.

She finished chewing and shot him an indignant look. “It’s all ready to eat that way. No wasting time after each bite.”

“You could always cut the next piece while you chew,” he pointed out.

“Don’t be a smart ass. Eat your breakfast.”

She was pleased to see him devour the pancakes. For some reason, she liked making him happy. She got the feeling Caleb wasn’t the kind of man who’d been served fluffy pancakes very often. There was an edge to him, something raw and vulnerable at times.

This morning, that edge seemed sharper than ever. He didn’t say much as he drank his coffee. His dark eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked as if some inner dilemma was tearing him up.

“You okay?” Marley asked again, as she poured a hefty amount of syrup on her second pancake.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Setting down his cup, Caleb stood. He grabbed his dish and headed for the sink, keeping his back to her as he rinsed his plate under the faucet.

“You don’t have to do that,” Marley called. “I’ll just shove everything into the dishwasher later.”

“I can’t not do the dishes after I eat,” he replied without turning around. “It’s a habit I picked up when I lived in one of my foster homes. My foster mom used to give me a quarter every time I cleaned up after myself.”

“That was sweet of her,” Marley remarked.

“Yeah, I guess it was. She was one of the nicer ones.” She heard the smile in his voice. “She gave me this cracked yellow piggy bank to put the quarters into. I kept every quarter. I thought if I saved them all, I would have enough money to run away and be on my own.” His shoulders tensed. “Not that it mattered. One of my foster brothers stole every last penny the night before he was transferred to another home.”

Her heart melted in her chest, sympathy for that lost little boy tightening her stomach. “Caleb…I’m sorry.”

She pushed away her plate and got up, walking over to him with purposeful strides. His back stiffened at her approach. She knew he probably felt uncomfortable for revealing what was obviously a painful memory. He’d looked and sounded the same way last night, when he’d told her about his mother’s death.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to depress you,” he remarked.

She rested her hand on his arm and stroked the curve of his bicep. “It’s okay to talk about things that hurt you,” she said. “I do it all the time.”

“I’m not great with talking about my feelings, or my past.” His voice sounded thick as he admitted what she already knew.

Still, it might have been one of the most honest sentences he’d ever spoken to her, and she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him, a slow, deep kiss filled with gratitude and warmth. He responded instantly, slipping his tongue between her parted lips and exploring her mouth with what felt almost like desperation.

Her heartbeat quickened. She wondered if every kiss she shared with Caleb would be like this. The racing pulse, the damp palms, the melting of her body into his. He placed his hand on the back of her head and drew her closer, teasing her with his mouth, his lips, his tongue. The air in the kitchen felt charged, like the streak of arousal crackling through her blood.

“Marley?”

She and Caleb broke apart like a pair of teenagers caught necking in a parked car. She swiveled her head and saw her brother in the doorway.

“What the hell is going on here?” Sam asked, his gaze shifting from her to Caleb. “Who is
he?
”

Marley found her voice. “
He
is Caleb. My, um, neigh bor.”

Her brother strode to the middle of the room and eyed Caleb like a guard dog that had just discovered a burglar in the house. Too bad Sam was more like a cocker spaniel than a rottweiler. In his sky-blue surf shorts and white T-shirt, with his blond hair windswept as usual, her brother posed the least menacing picture Marley could conjure up.

“Do you always make out with your neighbors?” Sam demanded.

“Just the cute ones,” she replied.

Caleb snorted, then stuck out his hand. “I take it you’re Marley’s brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

Sam looked at Caleb’s outstretched hand warily, but the good manners their parents had instilled in them beat out his obvious desire to play the role of Angry Brother. He shook Caleb’s hand and said, “I’m Sam.” His eyes narrowed. “Why are you kissing my sister?”

Caleb looked so uncomfortable she took pity on him and said, “Because we’re seeing each other.”

Sam’s dark-blond eyebrows shot to his forehead. He glanced over at Marley. “Since when?”

“This week,” she admitted.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I don’t tell you everything.” Before Sam could continue the cross-examination, she said, “What are you doing here, anyway? Finally going to finish the hall closet?”

“Tomorrow. Dad’s barbecuing for lunch,” Sam said with a sigh. “He wants you to come.”

“He sent you all the way over here to invite me to lunch? You could have just called, you know.”

Sam shrugged. “I had to take measurements of the closet. I’m picking up some supplies before I come over tomorrow.” He shot her a pointed look. “I’m glad I came, otherwise I would have never known about your new
boyfriend
.”

Marley’s cheeks heated up. “When’s the barbecue?”

“In a couple of hours, but Dad wants you to come earlier. He has something to show you.”

Marley blanched. “Oh, God. Is it what I think it is?”

For the first time since he’d marched inside, Sam broke out a lopsided grin. “Sure is.”

Caleb shot her a quizzical look. “Do I get to be in the loop?”

She laughed. “Nope. Trust me, you have to see it to believe it.” To Sam, she said, “Can you call Dad and tell him to expect a guest?”

The suspicion on her brother’s face returned. “Sure, I guess.” Shoulders stiff, he turned for the door. “I’ll just take those measurements and meet you over at the house.”

After Sam left the kitchen, Marley gave Caleb an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I didn’t even think to ask you if you wanted to come along. I can tell them you can’t make it.”

He hesitated for a long time, but then to her surprise, asked, “Would you like me to go?”

She pondered the question. Would she? It might be awkward for him. Since Patrick’s arrest and escape, the men in Marley’s life had become super-protective. Sam, despite the fact that he was younger, now acted as if his only goal in life was to monitor and ensure her well-being, and their father wasn’t much better. Each time she saw him, her dad quizzed her about every aspect of her life.

She wasn’t sure how he would react when he met Caleb. Neither he nor Sam had liked Patrick, which only made her feel like a bigger fool. What had they seen that she hadn’t?

But Caleb was different. He wasn’t as smooth and polished as Patrick. Definitely not as talkative, either. And who knew, maybe her family would see something in him that she wasn’t picking up on. She still didn’t fully trust her instincts. It might not be a bad thing to gauge her family’s reaction to Caleb.

“I’d like it if you came,” she finally said.

He nodded. “All right then.”

She leaned up and planted a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”

T
HIRTY MINUTES AFTER
they arrived at Marley’s childhood home, Caleb was regretting his decision to join her. He should have stayed back at the Strathorn house. But he hadn’t wanted to leave her side, especially with the chance that Grier was keeping tabs on her. Away from the safety of her home, Marley made an easy target, and Caleb refused to let her out of his sight.

But he knew he was totally out of his element here. He was a trained government agent. He’d arrested, interrogated and physically struggled with the slime of the world. Yet he was intimidated by a twenty-four-year-old guy in surf shorts and a salt-and-pepper-haired father in the process of showing off a castle he’d built.

Out of Popsicle sticks.

“It’s…interesting,” Caleb remarked as he stared, stupefied, at the structure.

The castle was about two feet wide and three feet tall, made up of hundreds—no, had to be in the thousands—of little wooden sticks. Some were intact, creating walls and turrets. Others had been cut to accommodate little windows and doors. Oh, and a drawbridge. Who could overlook the drawbridge?

Next to him, Marley seemed to be fighting a grin. “Dad’s very passionate about his hobby.”

Sam Sr. lovingly picked up his creation from the crate it had been sitting on and set it on one of the long work tables in the garage. His brown eyes, the same shade as his daughter’s, were animated. “My best one yet, don’t you think, honey?”

“Definitely,” she agreed.

Marley’s dad linked his arm through hers and led her out of the garage. Caleb trailed after them as they stepped onto the driveway. He kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, determined to stay on guard during this visit.

His gaze focused on the intertwined arms of Marley and her father, and he was unable to stop the envy that rolled around in his chest. He could tell just by looking at them that they were close. And the way Sam Sr.’s eyes filled with warmth each time he looked at his daughter was almost painful to watch. Caleb had never had anything even close to that growing up. He’d known families like this existed, but he hadn’t seen it up close before.

They walked around the side of the sprawling, Spanish-style bungalow and stepped into the spacious backyard. The grass was perfectly mowed, colorful flowers popped up around the perimeter, and the array of birdhouses and feeders hanging from the trees made Caleb smile. Evidently one of her father’s hobbies had rubbed off on Marley.

Sam was manning the barbecue, flipping burgers with a spatula. He glanced up at their approach and grinned at his sister. “It’s your turn to set the table, kiddo.”

Marley let go of her dad’s arm and took a step toward the patio door. “I’ll help you,” Caleb offered.

“No, sit down, relax,” she called over her shoulder.