Wanton

His heart twisted, and the pain was so unfamiliar, he jerked. Slowly, his hands flexed on her smooth shoulders, pulling her closer, which made the pain less noticeable. “Celia,” he whispered, the word a reprimand breathed into her ear, “you know that’s nonsense. Dane loves you, so of course he doesn’t blame you. And Angel adores you. You’ve become her best friend, a godmother to little Grayson.”

Her small hands lifted to his chest and lightly rested there. Her forehead touched his sternum. “I can’t believe she’s forgiven me. It’s because of me that Raymond was able to threaten her.” She tilted back to stare up into his face, and her belly pressed against him. “She could have been hurt—”

“Hush.” He laid a finger over her lips, fighting the urge to taste her again. That first kiss, meant as a showdown, had made him hard, and being near her had kept him that way. She’d tasted sweet, like cherries, but now her lip gloss was gone and he found her naked mouth even more appealing. “You’re not responsible for Raymond’s actions, Celia. And the truth is, you saved Angel by showing up when you did and wielding that crowbar like a pro.”

He smiled and she managed a skimpy smile in return. “Regardless of what you say, Alec, I know I hold part of the responsibility. And it…it disgusts me so much, knowing I was engaged to that animal, that I might have married him, that I did sleep with him.”

Alec froze, not wanting that image to invade his mind, but it was never far from there anyway. The thought of Celia having sex with Raymond sickened him and filled him with a killing rage. He dropped his hands and took a step back, trying to distance himself both physically and mentally. He didn’t want to care who she’d slept with, as long as she slept with him, too. But it wasn’t that simple and he knew it.

He loomed over her, ready to intimidate once again. “You won’t change anything by getting yourself killed. Do you think Dane deserves that right now, after he’s finally found happiness with Angel and the baby?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, holding tight. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be extra careful from now on. But when I saw this case, I knew I had to do something.”

“Damn it, Celia!” His frustration exploded, but he recognized her stubborn look and knew there’d be little chance of changing her mind.

She glared at him, her chin jutting out at an obstinate angle. “Well you just refused it without even giving Mrs. Barrington a reason why!”

In her pique, Celia no longer looked so vulnerable or so small. She stood barely five-foot-six in her heels, a good ten inches shorter than him. But when she gave her anger free rein, she reminded him of an Amazon.

She clutched at the front of his shirt. “Do you know she thinks her daughter is involved in prostitution? That she’s been forcibly coerced into it? Hannah thought she was joining a modelling agency, but now—”

“Spare me, Celia,” he said in disgust, his anger rising once again. “I read the case and I interviewed Mrs. Barrington myself. Her daughter was a spoiled brat who left a very loving family behind to chase the limelight. I’ve heard it before. Hannah wants to be famous, and she’ll likely do whatever it takes to see it come true. Mrs. Barrington just can’t believe her precious daughter would willingly stoop so low. But it happens. There’s no one to save this time, and Hannah likely wouldn’t appreciate your intrusion into her cozy little life-style, anyway.”

Celia thumped her fist, still tangled in his shirt, against his chest. She looked outraged and appalled. “You’re not even willing to check it out?”

“I just told you, I already have.” He covered her hand with his own, holding it tight against him. “Trust me on this. I know more about it than you ever will and I have eons more experience.”

“What does that mean?”

Damn it. He swiped his hand through his hair, unwilling to tell her just how much experience he had with a situation such as this. Even thinking that far into the past made his head hurt. He narrowed his eyes and made his tone deliberately cold. “You’ve wasted your time coming here. Now let’s go. We’ll stop at the room you rented so you can pick up your stuff, and then head home. No reason to spend another night here.”

He had her halfway to his truck before she dug in her dainty heels. “I’m not going with you, Alec.”

His patience was at an end. He turned to her, then bent down until his nose was almost touching hers. “Yes you are. If I have to haul your stubborn hide over my shoulder and tie you in the damn truck, so be it. But one way or another I’m taking you home. Now.”

Her small body practically vibrated with anger, her eyes hot with it, and then her eyebrows lowered ferociously. “All right. I’ll come with you. But I’m not giving up this case.”

“Then you’re still fired.”

“I still quit,” she qualified, and slid into her seat. She didn’t look at him, but stared stonily ahead.

Alec braced one hand on the dash and the other on the roof of the truck. He leaned in close, using every intimidation tactic he knew. “When I inform Mrs. Barrington you’re no longer with the agency, do you think she’ll still be willing to pay your expenses?”

Celia curled her lip, for the moment too angry to be cowed by his excellent routine. One long manicured finger poked him in the chest with stinging force. “Fine. You do that and I’ll just work gratis. But one way or another I’m going to find out what’s going on with Hannah Barrington. I’m going to find out if her mother’s suspicions are correct. I’m going to help that girl. And you, Alec Sharpe, can’t do a single thing to stop me.”

Alec got out of the truck and slammed the door, afraid he’d strangle the little witch if he stayed that close to her a second longer. She knew how to push all his buttons. No one, male or female, had ever seemed to take so much delight in provoking him. Hell, most people were afraid to try! It wasn’t what he was used to, what he was accustomed to dealing with. Damn it, he wanted to see this at an end. He wanted Celia Carter kept safe.

He wanted her—period.

What a horrible situation to find himself in. He couldn’t do it, no matter how hard he tried, but he knew it would be best if he just stayed the hell away from her. From the day he’d met her, he’d seen all the signs. Miss Celia Carter was trouble with a capital T, and he had the bullet wound to prove it.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_3eb2d501-6014-598b-91bd-fe4318d6a3ba)

THE RIDE TO HER MOTEL was made in absolute silence before Celia decided she couldn’t take it anymore. Alec was being so boring, she was about to fall asleep. The quiet, along with the dark night and the breeze from the open windows were proving to be very hypnotic. She wasn’t even all that mad anymore. Alec couldn’t help being the way he was. His bossy arrogance seemed an innate part of his nature. And overall, she accepted that it was concern which prompted his temper. Concern for her. He was one of those incredible men who thought everyone smaller or weaker warranted his protection, and nearly everyone was smaller and weaker than Alec. Not that she would allow him to boss her, but at least she could understand why he wanted to try.

What had really kept her quiet for so long was the way he’d pulled away from her when she’d mentioned sleeping with Raymond. Evidently the awful truth of what she’d done, of what she’d allowed Raymond to do, disturbed him as well. But she couldn’t fault him for that, either. No one could disparage her horrid judgement any more than she did.

The quiet had given her plenty of time to think, though, and she’d come to several conclusions. She didn’t like it, but she was forced to face the truth. She needed Alec’s help.

Staring at his hard profile, she sighed. “So are you going to brood all night?”

“Yes.”

She almost laughed at that, her mood lifting slightly. He was such a big, dark, awesome man to admit to actual brooding. But she could see he was more relaxed now, too. That ever-present aura of danger that loomed around him like a thick black cloud had softened. His hands were no longer gripping the steering wheel as if he might snap it in two, and his jaw wasn’t as tightly clenched.

Celia smiled at him, hoping to cajole him into a more agreeable frame of mind. “I have a sort of ‘off the topic’ question for you.”

He gave her a suspicious look, his black gaze cutting over her features before he reluctantly shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“How did you know where I was? I made a point not to drive, to take the dumb slow bus instead so people would see my car in the driveway and think I was still at home.” She didn’t mention that the “people” she’d most wanted to elude was Alec. But as usual, he was one step ahead of her.

As she spoke, he pulled into the motel parking lot where she’d rented a room. Celia shook her head in amazement. “And how did you know I was staying here?”

He made an impatient sound and shut off the truck’s motor. “I’m a P.I. This is what I do.”

He shifted in his seat to face her, one long arm stretching out along the back of the seat, almost touching her. The darkness of the cab’s interior closed around them, relieved only by the lights of sporadic traffic. She could smell his scent, feel the warmth of his big body. His arm with the tattoo was closest to her, and she glanced at it. It was too dark for her to see it clearly, but she’d studied it many times and always wondered at the significance. A man like Alec didn’t tattoo his arm with a heart, pierced by an arrow, for no reason. She just didn’t have the nerve to ask him what that reason might be.

She shifted restlessly in her seat. “But how?” she demanded, going back to her original question. He narrowed his gaze, his look calculating, and she warned, “Don’t you dare lie to me, Alec.”

One finger touched her hair, twining around a loose curl, unnerving her further and filling her stomach with sensual butterflies. He watched his hand, his dark eyes glinting in the soft moonlight. She saw the moment he decided to tell her the truth. His shoulders lifted in a slight, unconcerned shrug. “I broke into your house and found your travel plans.”

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him in utter disbelief. She took refuge from his overwhelming nearness in the flash of anger that jarred her wits back. “You did what?”

Disgruntled, he released her and opened his door. Celia scrambled out her own side before he could circle the truck, then stepped in front of him, hands on hips, chin thrust out, blocking his way. “You broke into my house?” she demanded, injecting as much outrage in the words as she could. He ignored her and she had to quickly backstep since he didn’t stop, then was forced to skip to keep up with him.

“I didn’t do any damage.” He said it as if that would be her only concern, as if the invasion of her privacy was nothing at all. He glanced down at her, then added, “You need an alarm system. I’ll take care of it when we get back.”

Celia slung her purse strap over her shoulder and clasped both hands around the back waistband of his tight jeans as he started up the outside stairs leading to her second-floor room. She dug in her heels, but only got dragged in his wake. “Damn it, Alec, will you wait up a minute?”

“We can talk in your room, honey, while you pack up.”

She stumbled on the concrete steps and he reached back, disengaging her hands and pulling her up alongside him. He kept a solicitous hand at her elbow, offering her support in her high heels. “Did you hurt yourself when you leaped out of my truck?”

“No.” Nothing more than a tender ankle, and since he’d blown off the impact of a bullet wound to his thigh, she certainly wasn’t going to complain about something so minor.

“Good.” He continued dragging her along.

Celia seethed. She had no intention of packing up. In fact, she still had hopes of convincing Alec to stay and help her. Alec and Dane were forever claiming “gut instincts” to account for every hunch they had that couldn’t be explained, but proved true nonetheless. Well, she had a wrenching, screaming “gut instinct” right now, and it was telling her that Hannah Barrington was in big trouble and Celia was her only hope. She couldn’t, wouldn’t turn her back on Hannah now, no matter what. If she did give up on the twenty-year-old girl, she’d never again be able to face herself in the mirror. But she was smart enough to know her chances of actually helping Hannah would be much better if Alec lent his expertise. Getting him to do that would be tricky.