Stealing His Heart Read online

  He lifted his arm and smoothed her hair off her face, his touch as gentle as it had been rough moments before. “You remember that?”

  “Of course I do.” She squeezed his biceps. His very hard biceps. “I remember everything you told me.”

  For a minute, he watched her as if he believed her. But then he shook his head and the softness disappeared. So did his touch. As if that wasn’t enough, he backed out of her reach, too. “Enough walking down memory lane. Let’s go inside where it’s secure.”

  She headed for the door. He followed her closely, not touching her but blocking off her only escape route…through him. Stepping to the side of the door, she waited for him to unlock it, noting he still used a good old-fashioned key.

  As she entered, he reached around her and flicked on the switch. Blinking, she scanned the interior. Hardwood floors, pale yellow walls, and an arched doorway led to the kitchen straight ahead. A staircase with a white railing was to her left. To the right, the living room.

  It was sparsely decorated. Not many family pictures. There were a few scattered pictures of Christine here and there, and one of his parents. That was it.

  Walking slowly, she headed into the living room. He had a painting over the fireplace—she’d been right about him having one—and a big flat-screen television. Leather couches and a coffee table with files scattered all over it finished off the room. It was clean. Professional. Impersonal. Safe.

  Yep. He was drowning in his docile life.

  She turned in a circle and found him directly behind her. For a second, her breath caught in her throat. From underneath lowered lids, he watched her, his green eyes piercing through her. His shirt was tight around his biceps, almost as if it couldn’t fit over all that hard muscle. It was painfully obvious he worked out now. That he took good care of himself.

  His gaze dipped down. Her body tingled and came to life, and he hadn’t even moved. She rested her palm on his chest and leaned in, inhaling the scent of his cologne. His heart sped under her touch, and she lifted on tiptoe. She wanted to show him how to have fun again. It was perfectly clear that he’d forgotten how, and she was the best person to show him. Fun should have been her middle name.

  It’s all she knew.

  “You live here all alone?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He stiffened, but didn’t back off. “I told you, I like being alone.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She licked her lips and shot him a seductive look. Or, what she hoped was a seductive look. “So. Now what?”

  “Now you tell me how to fix the code. We’re on a strict time limit.” He let go of her without a second’s hesitation and peeled her fingers off his chest, his touch lingering. He sat down, removed a pen and notebook from underneath a huge file, and flicked open the pad. “Once you’re finished helping me, you’re free to leave.”

  She clucked her tongue. “I told you, I don’t remember how I did it.”

  “Well, try harder.”

  He clicked the pen open and closed, holding it against his irresistible chin dimple as he watched her. She could see the scar from the time his foster dad hit him with a pipe, right on his jawline. He’d gotten stitches. She’d gotten mad. “I am.”

  “The quicker you remember, the quicker you get to leave. And if we don’t figure it out in time, you’ll—”

  “Go to jail. Yeah. I know.” She took her sweatshirt off, pulling it over her head slowly. He watched her the whole time, but glanced away when she caught him looking. “How long do we have?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “A day. Two at most.”

  She sat down next to him, close enough that their legs touched. He gave her a dark frown, but she smiled back innocently. Dude, if she had a halo, she’d be polishing it right now. “Are you that eager to get rid of me?”

  “It’s not my deadline—it’s my boss’s. If it were up to me? Things would be different.” He ran the tip of the pen up her thigh, inching closer and closer to where she ached for him most, his gaze locked on hers in a silent challenge the whole time. “What can you tell me about the code, Tara?”

  She covered a yawn, doing her best to hide the arousal he brought to life with nothing more than a withering stare and a ballpoint. She couldn’t get caught up in the moment. This was only a lesson that he couldn’t control her with sexy threats of domination. That she wasn’t the same gullible girl she used to be. “The only thing I can tell you is that I’m tired and want to get some sleep. So who gets the couch?”

  “It’s only…” He checked the time, ending his teasing play. She noticed his watch had the Marine emblem on the face, and a gold band. That had cost a pretty penny, no doubt. She’d put it at three hundred, maybe four. “Eleven thirty. Surely you can last a little bit longer.”

  “Nope.” She leaned in, touching his leg as she did so. He was rock-hard to the touch. “I’ll have you know, I turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

  A hint of amusement tugged his lips upward…right until he pressed them tightly together to stop it. “Yeah. Sure you do, Cinderella.”

  She held her hand to her mouth like a microphone. “Alert the presses. Jake Forsythe, big-shot security officer, almost smiled. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we’re talking a real smile here.”

  He studied her, turned his attention back to his notebook, and physically picked up her hand, removing it from his thigh. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? Still don’t take a damn thing seriously.”

  “Oh, I’ve changed,” she muttered, breaking free. “I’m not a stick-in-the-mud like you.”

  He quirked a brow. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you should be trying to save your ass instead of arguing with me.” He scribbled something down on the paper, his motions harsh. “We’re not here to joke around. There’s work to be done, and it needs to be done fast.”

  She trailed her finger down his arm, and his muscles jerked under her touch. She should stop teasing him, touching him, but it was too much fun to resist. And he clearly didn’t mind, if that erection he’d pressed against her outside was any indication.

  “I can think of much better things to do than work.”

  He snatched her wrist up, his grip on her gentle, yet unyielding. “Are you trying to make me think you want to fuck me so I’ll release you? Because it won’t work.”

  “What if I want to fuck you for the hell of it?”

  He cocked his head. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “If you have to ask, then you’re a hell of a lot worse off than I imagined,” she said, her heart thundering in her ears. “I want you, and thanks to that little show of masculinity outside, I know that you want me, too.”

  “The difference is, I won’t act on my wants until I’m damn good and ready. I have self-control.” He shifted his weight, but it didn’t hide the bulge of his erection from her. He wasn’t as unaffected as he was trying to pretend. “Right now, all I want from you is answers.”

  What did she have to do to get him to take her? Beg? Plead? She’d never begged for a man before, but for him…she might make an exception. But first she’d break the damn self-control he kept throwing in her face. “You want answers?”

  “Yes,” he said, every muscle in his body rock-hard.

  “Fine. I’ll give them to you.”

  He stared at her suspiciously. “Okay.”

  She stood up and grabbed hold of the hem of her shirt, lifting it the slightest bit. “Go on. Ask me a question.”

  Hands fisted, his green gaze flitted down, then flew back up. “What are you doing?”

  “That’s an easy one.” She lifted her shirt a little higher, letting the bottom of her breasts show. She had a bra on, but it was black and transparent. “I’m taking my shirt off.”

  He let out a sound that was half tortured growl, half groan. Her stomach quivered. For a second, just a second, she forgot all about her plan to break him and throw it in his face. It felt al
l too real.

  “Tara…” he said, an unspoken warning ringing out in his voice.

  She lifted the shirt higher, giving him full view of her breasts. “You want me. Admit it.”

  He reached for her without admitting anything.

  “No,” she said, leaping back.

  He froze, glowering at her. “No?”

  “No,” she repeated firmly, letting her shirt drop down. “I told you to admit it, and you didn’t. Like you, I say when and I say how. I don’t sit around waiting for a man to tell me what to do, and I don’t shy away from a challenge because a man likes to play a little rough in bed. And I don’t obey men, either. So kiss my ass.” She tossed her hair back. “I’m tired. I’ll go to bed now. We can discuss this again in the morning.”

  His jaw hardened, and he caught her elbow as she passed. His grip was firm and yet somehow soft, all at the same time. “Make no mistake. If you were mine, I’d have you bent over the arm of the couch right now for that little show, and you’d be begging for my permission to come.”

  Her stomach twisted in knots. His permission? She didn’t know if that infuriated her or turned her on. All she knew was her body was saying yes please. She tore free of his grip. He let her. “I don’t beg.”

  “Correction: you haven’t begged yet.” He looked her up and down, from head to toe, his shadowed gaze speaking of promises she wanted to collect on. But not tonight. “Go to bed now before I decide to teach you a lesson.”

  She went up the stairs, her fists clenched into balls at her sides. Time to retreat and plan her next attack. He might be the one holding blackmail over her head, but make no mistake. He was going down.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Jake hesitated at the door of the spare bedroom. After her little striptease and retreat last night, he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods. He had spent hours debating whether or not he should barge into her room and demand she finish what she started. Demand she finish him.

  Take what he wanted so he could concentrate on work.

  But instead he’d lain in bed until morning came, tossing and turning with nothing but a fucking hard-on and his own hand to keep him company. He guessed he kind of deserved her striptease. He’d been pretty damn arrogant, telling her when he kissed her it would be on his terms. But that’s how he played.

  He didn’t lose control, and he didn’t act without thinking.

  Ever.

  She’d only been giving him back what he’d already given to her. He liked that about her. A lot. Too much. Contrary to what she seemed to think, he didn’t like weak women. He liked women like her—strong, independent, and hot-tempered. Now in bed? That was an entirely different story. In bed, he’d want her to obey him in every way.

  It would make the victory even sweeter.

  He turned the knob, knowing he should knock but not doing so, and walked into the room. On his second step, he stubbed his toe so hard stars swam in front of his eyes. “Ow! Son of a bitch!”

  “You should really watch where you’re going,” Tara said from the bed, amusement in her voice. “Are you okay?”

  Hopping on one foot, he glared at the nightstand he’d run into—which had been moved across the room. So had the bed, the big-ass trunk, and the dresser. “What the fuck happened in here last night?”

  “Do you like it?” She threw back the covers and stood up. She only wore a tiny pair of pink pajamas that showed off more than it hid. He could see the sweet curve of her ass. His cock immediately sprang to attention. “It wasn’t feng shui the other way.”

  He forced his attention back to her face, but his mind was firmly focused on her short shorts. “Feng what?”

  Hands on hips, she canted her head. “Feng shui. The chi was off and my chakra was—”

  “You know what?” He backed out of the room slowly. All this crazy “feng wui” talk was freaking him out, as was the way she kept trying to take the control away from him. This was his house. Not hers. “Put it back the way it was. Then get dressed and come down so we can get to work. Oh, and don’t get too close to the windows as you fix it. It’ll set the alarm off.”

  Her lips twitched as if she held back a smile. “But my chakra—”

  He didn’t know what the hell a chakra was, but unless it involved her naked in bed, he didn’t want to know anything else. “Fix. It.”

  Closing the door behind him, he went down the hall. She was going to be the death of him. He should call Cooper and tell him he wanted off this case. If she was going to be changing things around and wearing skimpy clothes the whole time she was here, then this was going to be hell. He needed to get her help and then get her out of his house…

  And his life, too.

  After taking the stairs two at a time, he went into the kitchen and set about brewing some coffee. He was halfway finished with his first mug when she came downstairs. She rounded the corner in a pair of tiny black shorts and a curve-hugging tank top. Her long, tan legs begged to be stroked, and she’d let her hair cascade over her shoulders. He liked the way it looked, tumbling down her bare shoulders.

  But she couldn’t go out like that.

  She paused in the doorway and studied herself with a frown. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like I peed in your coffee?”

  “Half of your outfit is missing.” He gripped his mug tighter. “That’s what’s wrong.”

  She stared at him for a second, then came into the kitchen and grabbed a raspberry out of the bowl he’d been eating from. After popping it into her luscious mouth, she chewed slowly, her gaze on him the whole time. When she finished, she sucked on her forefinger seductively and glanced down at her clothes again.

  “Shorts and a tank top.” She released her finger with a sucking noise. “Nope. It’s definitely all there.”

  He forced his attention off of her mouth. “Huh?”

  “My outfit,” she said slowly, her blue eyes sparkling. “It’s all there.”

  He gritted his teeth and turned to glance out the window. It was a hell of a lot safer than looking at her. She was trying to play him, and he wasn’t going to cooperate. “There’s coffee over there, as long as if doesn’t threaten your chakra, of course.”

  She laughed. “Did you make a joke?”

  “I don’t know. Did I?”

  She smiled and nudged him. “Maybe that stick up your ass isn’t stuck as far in as I thought. The Jake I used to know might still be alive and kicking beneath that serious facade.”

  “Doubtful,” he said, grabbing his raspberries off the counter. She hadn’t asked him if she could have any. Just took. How typical of her. “War does weird things to a man. It changes him.”

  She fell silent, her attention on his Keurig as it brewed her coffee. He couldn’t help but notice she went for the flavored crap instead of the plain. He’d have to remember she liked it, and get some more at the store for her. As he ate a raspberry, she took another one, popping it in her mouth and doing the same slow, torturous chew she’d done before.

  Fuck, he could watch her eat the sweet berries all day long. He almost reached for her. Almost kissed her, right there in the kitchen.

  But he didn’t.

  He gave her the rest of the berries, since she obviously planned on helping herself anyway, and busied himself with washing the dishes. “Have you thought about the code at all?”

  She set the bowl down hard. “Nope. That’s not what I was thinking about while I was all alone in my bed late last night.”

  Yeah. He hadn’t been, either.

  “Well, you need to focus on work instead of daydreams.” He scrubbed the plate in the sink a hell of a lot harder than needed. “This isn’t some game you can laugh off. We have two days to figure this all out, or you’ll be in jail.”

  She hopped on the counter, swinging her legs in the air. Her heel kept hitting the cabinet, making a constant knocking sound. “I know, I know. Help you or go to jail. Blah, blah, blah.” She wiggled her fingers and made a scared fa
ce. “I get it. It’s like the bogeyman, only I’ll have to wear horizontal stripes.” She paused. “Actually, jail might be worse than being killed by the bogeyman. I don’t look good in stripes—no one does.”

  He shook his head, refusing to rise to the bait. Refusing to let her get to him. “You used to like stripes.”

  “When I was a kid, sure.” She leaned in and gripped his shoulder, her fingers brushing away an imaginary speck of lint. “A lot can change over the years.”

  He shut off the water and set the plate in the drying rack. She leaned back, her breasts thrusting out from the new position. Her legs were spread enough that he could easily slip inside them and rub against her soft…

  Nope. Not happening.

  He gritted his teeth. “Obviously not that much. You still act as if nothing in life is to be taken seriously. As if you’re invincible.”

  “Should I be more like you, and take everything seriously? Never smile or make a joke?” she asked. Hopping down, she dusted her hands off. “You wanna know what your problem is?”

  He took a sip of his coffee and headed toward the living room, knuckles white against the mug. “I’m sure you’re dying to tell me,” he said drily.

  “You forgot how to have fun. Forgot how to live and laugh and be free.” She pulled him away from his computer. Away from work. “I can fix that, though. I still know how to have fun.”

  “Oh, I bet you do,” he muttered, still not looking at her.

  “That was almost a joke,” she said. “Come on. Let’s take the day off and go to the carnival, like we used to when we were kids.”

  He swallowed his scalding coffee.

  The carnival? Christ, he hadn’t gone to one of those since…well, since he’d gone with her. It had been one of their favorite pastimes. He didn’t know how many hours they’d spent there, talking, laughing, and dreaming of a better life.

  Well, the last part had been his. In his dreams, he’d been self-sufficient and had gotten a family of his own. One that wouldn’t leave him.

  But dreams were meant to be broken.