Wanton

“I’d be feeling a lot better if you’d quit trying to bully Celia.”

“Well—”

“I’ve gotten rather fond of you, Alec, despite my first impressions. And Grayson adores you. But if you don’t stop pushing Celia around, she’s going to kill you.”

“Well—”

“Not only that, but I’d think you could be a little more understanding. She’s trying to start a new life, which means putting the old life behind her. But you won’t help her at all! All you keep doing is telling her that she can’t possibly do it.”

“Well—”

“I’ve finally gotten Dane to lighten up on her a little, and what do you do? You step in and pretend to be her father and big brother and husband all wrapped into one.”

Alec held the phone away from his head and stared at it, appalled. He sure as hell didn’t feel like a blood relative where Celia was concerned, and he’d be damned if he’d ever be a husband again. He was a man who learned from life’s little lessons, and that one in particular was one he’d never forget.

When he cautiously returned the receiver to his ear, he caught Angel in mid-tirade, still going strong. The water shut off in the bathroom and Alec quickly interrupted Angel. “I gotta go, sweetie. Tell Dane not to worry. I’ll take care of things.”

“Wait a minute!”

He sighed again, feeling very put upon. “What?”

Angel wasn’t the least put off by his surly tone. “Will you stay there and help Celia or not?”

Tonight appeared to be his night to reason with unreasonable women. “It’s dangerous, Angel. She could get hurt.”

“Not with you there to watch over things. Dane says you’re the very best. I know you can handle this and make sure Celia stays safe.”

He felt cornered, damn it, and his tone lowered to a growl. “I don’t want to stay here and make sure she’s safe. It’s a wasted trip.”

“Celia doesn’t think so.”

The soft way Angel spoke made him feel guilty. Was he being insensitive to Celia? Was it really so dangerous that he couldn’t indulge her, or was it just his own personal prejudice against this case that was deciding him?

It took him less than two seconds to realize it was both.

Angel wasn’t done laying on the guilt. Funny how all women seemed to instinctively know the shortest route to manipulating a man, even a man they couldn’t claim as their own.

Why the hell didn’t Dane step in and provide some distraction?

“Alec, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re not going to stay, then I can’t possibly go off on a trip and leave Celia alone. She’ll need someone who understands and supports her.”

Alec wondered if offering understanding and support would soften Celia a little, help remove that damn “no” from her vocabulary.

Dane’s hard tone interrupted his musing, blaring into the phone even though Angel still held it. “He’ll stay.”

Giving in to the inevitable, now that he’d admitted to himself he could keep Celia safe, Alec echoed with a sigh, “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” There was a second’s pause, just enough to prepare him, before she added, “We love you, Alec.”

He heard Dane snicker in the background and felt his entire face heat. He hated it when Angel did that, got all mushy on him, and Dane damn well knew it, which was probably why he encouraged her in that melodramatic crap. He didn’t want her to say the words and he sure as hell didn’t want her to feel them. Not for him. He could do without love, just as he always had. In fact, he preferred it that way.

Of course, what he preferred never seemed to matter much once Angel had her mind set on something. And she’d made him a part of their family, which meant she was determined that he accept her love. Unaccountable female.

Trying not to sound too surly, or worse, like he was embarrassed by her affection, Alec muttered, “Yeah, well, good night.” He hung up quickly, just as Celia opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

She had on faded jeans that fit her slim legs to perfection and a soft, thin T-shirt that draped over the small mounds of her breasts. She looked great dressed up, but he found her just as appealing when she dressed down, maybe even more so.

The first thing that clearly registered in his beleaguered brain was the fact she was braless. Then he took in her bare feet, her scrubbed pink face and slicked-back, still-wet hair, and everything in him tightened. Brother, father, husband hell. He wanted to be her lover.

He stood slowly, unable to pull his gaze away from her. “I ordered up some food. It should be here soon.”

She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. She had that killer dress and the high heels in her arms and she laid them aside on the dresser. As she moved, Alec noticed her limping slightly and he scowled.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He stepped closer, just about sick of her playing so timid. On some level, he enjoyed scrapping with her, though he’d never admit it to her. But fighting with Celia was, in many ways, more enjoyable than having sex with other women. It surely heated his blood more. Of course, everything to do with Celia heated his blood.

He caught her chin and lifted it. “Don’t ever lie to me, Celia. You’re limping. Did you hurt yourself when you jumped out of my truck?”

Her lashes were still spiky from the shower. She blinked slowly, her hazel eyes bright, and a slight flush pinkened her skin. “My feet are sore. I’m not used to wearing high heels anymore.”

He moved his thumb, gently brushing it back and forth over her small rounded chin. Her skin was so soft, he wanted to touch her all over, rub himself naked against her, feel that softness under him, accepting him. He took a steadying breath. “I’ll rub your feet for you.”

Her eyes widened and she nervously blurted, “I want to make a deal with you.”

One brow lifted high. He was about to tell her he’d stay and help her with the damn Barrington case, just so she could relax and stop being so jumpy, but now she had him curious. He led her over to the edge of the bed, urged her to sit, then knelt before her. He lifted one small foot into his hands, and as he started rubbing, pressing his thumbs into her arch, he said, “So? What’s the deal?” Her toes curled in his hand, making him smile.

“I need your help if I’m going to be able to do any good with this case.”

“Yes, you do.” He flexed her foot, heard her small groan and began rubbing each small, pink toe. She had nice feet, as intrinsically female as the rest of her. They were so small, so narrow and smooth and pale, they seemed swallowed up by his large rough hands.

“I’ll…I’ll do anything you want if you’ll help me save Hannah.”

His hands stilled. His gaze shot from her foot to her face and narrowed there. He didn’t say anything, not trusting himself to speak.

Celia appeared to be holding her breath, her eyes round, the pulse in the hollow of her throat fluttering anxiously. When he only watched her, doing his best to keep his anger under wraps, she burst out in nervous explanation. “I know you think I’m not fit to do this work. You’ve done nothing but harp on me about quitting, about going back to the family business.” She paused, drew a deep breath. “Well, I’ll do it.”

“It?” He couldn’t get his jaw to work, so the one-word question was whispered through clenched teeth.

She nodded. “I’ll…I’ll go back. But only if you help me to help Hannah first.”

The tension eased out of him by slow degrees. She wasn’t bartering her body as he’d first assumed. She’d agree to quit, to return to her old job where she’d be safe. It was what he’d wanted, what he knew would be best for her. Angel’s words echoed in his mind, making his muscles tense with guilt. She’ll need someone who understands and supports her. Very slowly, he released her foot and put both hands on her knees. Still holding her gaze, he gently urged her legs apart. Whatever Celia needed, he wanted to give it to her.