Look, But Don't Touch

Jesse was amazed. She was right about the bike. It was a Harley Road King and it weighed seven hundred and twenty-three pounds. Before he realized what he was doing, he heard himself saying, “I accept your offer. You carry ramps around?”

“They’re useful in moving things in and out of the truck. Never know what I’ll need when I start a new assignment.”

Because of her tool chest, getting the bike into the truckbed wasn’t easy. By the time they’d done it and picked up the broken pieces of metal along the roadside, both were soaking wet. He was still curious about the ramps as he watched the woman pull off her jacket and wet cap, open the passenger side door and lean inside the cab. Moments later she straightened again. “Okay, get in, unless you’d rather ride in the back with the bike. Be careful of my gear on the floor.”

Jesse crawled in, carefully planting his feet around the bulky backpacks and wondering how he’d gotten himself into such a situation. The seat shifted as she got in on her side. He turned to thank her and heard a sharp intake of breath, not certain whether it had come from him or her. At this close proximity, they had their first clear view of each other. If tension could be measured by a thermometer, it would have hit the top of the gauge.

With the moonlight behind her, he’d only gotten a general impression of his angel of mercy. Up close, she was straight out of a fantasy comic book. Blond hair streaming in wet ropes and a T-shirt plastered against full breasts, she could have ridden a wild stallion with Zena or been an agent in the next episode of “Silk Stalkings.” If she stepped on a stage with Madonna or Brittany Spears, they’d fade away.

As they continued to eye each other, he took a deep breath and let it out. “Something wrong?” Wrong? If he asked himself that question, he’d have to answer yes. Something was wrong. The woman. The night. The storm.

She simply stared at him, the silence heavy between them. Her voice was tight when she answered. “Maybe. Maybe not. I think I’m just a little shaky. The accident was a shock.”

“That surprises me. I’d expect the average woman to be shaken up, but the average woman doesn’t drive a truck carrying tools and equipment.”

“Women have toys. They just aren’t always what you expect,” she said, and closed her door. Mercifully, the light went out. Moments later the engine came to life and she pulled back onto the highway. “It isn’t the accident that bothered me. It’s you.”

“I bother you? Why is that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Men are my business. I’ve seen all kinds and I’ve learned to read them. Everything about you says danger.”

He didn’t know which comment bothered him the most, her reference to danger or that men were her business. He shifted his feet, wondering what she carried in her cases. With a taste for classic vehicles and motorcycles, she had to have money. Or maybe she was the ax murderer and she carried her weapons in her cases. Either way, this woman was trouble and trouble was something he didn’t need. He was going to find enough of that in the morning at the meeting scheduled with his boss.

“You’re very direct for a woman,” he finally said. “Or a man, for that matter.”

“I believe in confronting a situation head-on, yes.” She glanced at him. “I’m curious. You don’t seem to be the kind of man who would willingly ask for help, especially from a woman. And I’m definitely not myself around you, either. Can you say there isn’t something strange happening here?”

“No, I guess I can’t,” he admitted. He’d accused her of being direct and he liked that about her. Although if anyone had asked, he would have said it was what he’d always thought he’d wanted in a woman. But now he wasn’t so sure. “I don’t understand this, either,” he said. “Let’s just say, there was an accident and it shook us up, and leave it at that.”

The windows had fogged, giving the illusion of a gauzy cocoon isolating them from the rest of the world. The air felt warm and unstable.

“Whatever you say.” She reached for the windshield defroster. He was right. They were tuned into each other in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She attributed her reaction to the fact that he was absolutely perfect for her catalog, but this personal…connection was volatile and disturbing. She felt like the woman who knew there was an ax murderer in the basement. Everything about her said, Don’t go down there. And she was heading for the basement as fast as she could.

Cat shrugged her shoulders, trying to break out of what felt like a physical force field. “I prefer to think we’re two ships that pass in the night. From the looks of this weather, we could use a ship.”

Rain was blowing everywhere now, making it difficult to see. In addition to the weather, her windshield wipers were behaving erratically. Her passenger leaned back, not speaking. If he was worried about her ability to drive in the storm, he didn’t say it. Either he was the rare man who could relax with a woman at the wheel or he was scared speechless. She took a quick look. He didn’t look scared.

“You can just drop me off anywhere,” he finally said.

“If I’d been going to drop you off anywhere, you might just as well have stayed where you were. You’re soaking wet. I’m soaking wet. And your bike is wrecked. I’ll take you home. I suppose it’s too much to hope that you live on the River Walk.”

“You live on the River Walk?” he asked.

She laughed. “Live? Not likely. Home for me is wherever my work is. For the next few weeks, home is the Palace Hotel, compliments of my employer—that is, if he’s satisfied with my work when we meet.”

Satisfied? The Palace Hotel? That was the most expensive hotel on the Walk. Whatever she was, she was being very well paid. “Slow down. We’re almost there. Turn left at the next road and be careful as you cross the bridge—there’s a low spot on the other side. I live behind the church.”

She turned off the highway and drove over the bridge. Her headlights flashed on the church ahead. “Well, I’ve been with a lot of men, but this is a first.”

“Been with a lot of men? Are you always so candid?”

“In my business, I have to be.” She shook her head. “Here I am picturing you in your underwear and I find out you’re a priest.”

Picturing him in his underwear? Satisfied a lot of men? That’s when it hit him. She was a hooker, a high-priced call girl. And she thought he was a priest. He couldn’t hold back a laugh. “A priest? Not me. I just rent the little house in back. I like the solitude.”

“You already told me you weren’t an ax murderer so I guess I’ll trust you on that.” She looked him up and down without seeming conscious of the gesture. “Although I don’t know if trusting you is a smart idea.”

She returned her eyes to the road. With every bump, the tension grew.

He could smell the rain, the leather of his pants, the hint of flowers that seemed to come from her hair.

As they reached the church, lightning suddenly split the sky, revealing a very old adobe structure with a tiny steeple and a fenced yard. She jumped at the flash of light and laughed self-consciously. “I’ve seen a lot of chapels like this in my travels,” she said, “though seldom illuminated by the hand of God himself! Are we being warned, do you think?”

He was beginning to wonder the same thing. In spite of the defroster, the windshield was still fogging and the wipers had slowed to a jerky crawl. The El Camino and the wipers hesitated at the same time lightning struck again. His nerve endings were vibrating like danger flags caught in the wind.

The engine died and the headlights went out.

“Damn!” his driver swore. “I can’t believe this. First your bike wrecks and now my wheels have died. What’s next?” She gestured to the sky. “And who knows how long this storm will last.”

“As far as I know, we aren’t expecting a hurricane, so I’d say it’ll blow itself out pretty quick. We can call your…friend at the Palace. I’m sure he can send someone after you, or I’ll be glad to drive you when the storm stops. I don’t want to hold you up.”

She took a deep breath. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll manage. I truly am sorry if I caused you to go off the road. But you aren’t responsible for me. Once the engine cools down, it’ll run fine.”

He’d turned her down when she’d first offered her help. He should have insisted that she go. He hadn’t. Now he had a woman on his hands he’d like nothing more than to get his hands on. “You may know your cars but you don’t understand about Texas. This is flat-land out here. A hard rain and the low areas flood. I think you’re stuck for a while.”

A crack of thunder emphasized the danger of the storm.

She shivered and he had an almost overwhelming urge to slide his arms around her narrow waist. “You’re probably right. My Ellie has a mind of her own.”

“Ellie?”

“That’s what I call the El Camino. When something isn’t right, she just stops until it is. Which is pretty much what I do. Tell you what, if you have any coffee, I’d love a cup—particularly if you have a little brandy to spike it with,” she said, running her tongue over her lips.

“No brandy,” he said, trying to adjust his lower body, which had started to take on a life of its own. If he sat here, his thigh touching hers any longer, he would incinerate. “Only beer or coffee. But just sit tight a minute. I’ll unload the bike before we go inside.”

“I’ll help,” she said as she opened her door, which was immediately caught by the wind.

If there had been any dry spots left on their clothing, there were none by the time they got the bike into his shed.

Finally he replaced her ramps inside the truckbed and started toward his small adobe house. The woman hesitated.

“Come on in, dry off and wait for the rain to stop.” Jesse unlocked his door and stood aside. His guardian angel eyed him uncertainly, then moved past him. A sharp pang ran through him as she entered. It was a cardinal rule: when he spent time with a woman it was at her house or on neutral ground and he always went home before morning. Now, he’d let a stranger inside.

But this was different, he told himself. She didn’t know his name. And he didn’t know hers.

“I don’t have a clothes dryer,” Jesse said, “but I’ll build a fire and you can get warm.”

Warm? If she felt the way he did, she’d be better off if he turned on the air conditioner. As he walked over to the corner and crouched in front of an adobe fire-place, Cat sat on a stool and removed her boots.

Moments later flames were licking at the wood. Satisfied that the fire was burning, he stood. “I’m going to get out of this wet shirt and make the coffee,” he said. “The bathroom is through that door. There are towels on the shelf.”

Cat let out a sigh of relief and headed for the door. The bathroom made her smile. A large claw-footed tub filled almost the entire room. On one wall were shelves filled with towels and…rocks. She supposed he must collect them. Her host was obviously a man of the earth. At least he wasn’t a man of the cloth—which was good, considering the way she was feeling. She lifted a towel and turned to go back out to the fire when she spotted a blue flannel shirt hanging on the back of the door. It was soft and dry and smelled like sage, the same smell she’d been so conscious of in the truck. She took in the scent and felt it fuel the fire crackling inside her skin. Moments later, after shedding all her wet clothes, she was snuggled inside the flannel shirt that almost reached her knees.

“Did you find what you needed?” her mystery man asked, rounding the corner into the bathroom and coming to an abrupt stop only inches away from her. At her inadvertent yelp, he apologized. “Sorry. I see you found something to wear.”

“If you need your shirt, I’ll take it off,” she offered, reaching for the top button, then stopped. She’d be completely nude.

“No, that’s okay. It looks much better on you.”

“It’s very soft,” she said, sliding her fingers up and down the flannel fabric. “It feels…good.”

Jesse let out a deep, hot breath. She seemed to be sending him an invitation, but he couldn’t be sure. He desperately tried to hold on to his last thread of control. Then he saw the top of her breasts peeking out the vee of the shirt. She was every man’s wet dream. The thread snapped.

He groaned and reached for her.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice low and tight.

He kissed her.

Silently, hungrily, she responded with such passion that it scared him. She kept her eyes open as he slid his hands beneath the shirt. He started for a moment when he touched her bare hips, then moved slowly upward and cupped her breasts. He felt the pounding of her heart as she slid her arms around his neck and melted against him. He tore his lips away for a moment. “Are you sure about this?”

“That I want you? Absolutely! That it’s smart? Not at all. Now, stop talking and make love to me.”

He lifted her in his arms.

2

BETWEEN KISSES they were soon naked and breathless on his bed, covered with a down comforter that gathered them close and cushioned them in warmth.

He plunged his hands into her hair, pulling it, kneading her scalp as his hot breath brushed her skin. His lips captured hers in great hungry gulps while his hips ground against her, his arousal pulsating with need. The power of his appetite demanded that she meet his every move with equal fire. She did.

Suddenly he pulled her hands above her head so that she couldn’t move. His mouth moved down her neck, tasting her nipple with his tongue and finally capturing it with his lips. Beneath him she writhed, trying desperately to entice him inside her. But he was not finished with her yet. With a hard tug she pulled away from his grasp. Hands free to touch, she explored hard muscles. Soft, pliable skin clenched in its wild need to be joined. Skin against skin, she was on fire, little sparks exploding outward, heating them both, making her wet with want. She knew he could tell she was with him. Pleasure throbbed inside her, growing stronger, frantic to be released.

Jesse was inside her and for a moment any thought of control was gone, until he realized what was happening and forced himself to still. “Whoa, lady,” he said in a tight voice. What was he doing, making love to her without protection? And why hadn’t she stopped him?

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Everything. Because professional call girl or not, he wanted her.

She squirmed beneath him, crying out with need. He wanted her and he’d gone too far to turn back, but if he was going to break his own code of ethics, he’d still be smart enough to protect himself and her.

He reached past her and fumbled in the drawer in the nightstand. He couldn’t reach it and had to lift himself up.

“Don’t go away,” she said.

He tried to open the packet, dropped it and cursed. The throb grew stronger as if liquid lightning pulsed through his veins.

“You don’t need that,” she gasped.

“You may not, but I do. I don’t take chances.” He grabbed the packet from the floor.

“Give it to me,” Cat said, pushing him to his back as she removed the contents and tossed the foil to the floor. She smiled. He didn’t have to worry, but a little interruption like this always heightened the tension. She slowly rolled the latex down. He moaned and she could feel the muscles in his body contract as she touched him.

“For God’s sake, get it done,” he growled.

“For my sake, I’m trying.”

“Let me.” He pushed her away, finished and moved back over her. Their eyes were only inches apart. Even in the dark he could see the same desire he knew she saw in his. She breathed in the air he breathed out. He felt as though he’d never been so close to a woman before. She made a desperate sound deep in her throat and reached between them to grasp the hard length of him. This time she clasped her legs around his body and forced him inside her. There was no thinking, only her woman smell, his smell and the slight salty taste of her skin. He filled her with the raw sense of his hot sex.

This time there was no stopping. This time he slammed into her and she raised herself to meet him. He heard her gasp for breath, crying out in pleasure. He felt the beginning of her climax and tightened his muscles in an effort to sustain the moment, then groaned and once again plunged deep inside her as release exploded through them both.

Jesse had some earth-stopping climaxes before, but never like this. As the tremors subsided, little sparks of aftershocks continued to fire. He lay there until his heart stilled and his breathing went back to near normal. Then, finally, he rolled off her, pulled her close beside him, and curled his arm around her shoulder.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured, no longer loving her with his lips or his hands, yet still connected to her more intimately than he’d thought possible. How could he explain what had happened, how he’d broken his own rule, first about making love to a woman in his own house, then about the kind of woman he’d just shared the most intimate experience of his life with? It had to be an effect of the storm.

“Talking after something like that would be a sacrilege.”

“But women like to talk.”

“Not this woman. That kind of climax is worth a thousand words and I don’t know one that would accurately describe it.”

He kissed her forehead, his fingertips drawing little circles on her shoulder, memorizing the feel of her.

“Neither do I.”

He continued to hold her as he listened to the sound of his breathing, her breathing, and the heated waves of silence.

She shivered and said, “I think it’s stopped raining.”

“Are you cold?” he asked, but made no effort to pull up the covers.

“No. Cold is the last thing I am.”

“You shivered.”

“I think it’s because this is a little awkward. I’ve never been in exactly this situation before.”

“What kind of situation?”

“This may happen to you all the time, but I generally don’t end up naked in the arms of a man I don’t know.”

“You don’t? You did say men were your business, didn’t you?”

“But that’s different,” she started to explain, then stopped. He wouldn’t understand. He was right. She made her living off men’s bodies. She even sampled their attributes once in a while. But her partners always knew that it was casual and temporary. By staying in his arms, she’d broken one of her own rules tonight.

“I know. You do your thing, then move on and it’s all over.” He couldn’t pretend he expected anything else. From the beginning, everything about her looks, clothes, those heart-attack legs said big bucks and the expertise to demand it.

“Well, yes.”

“So this is over?” His words came out before he had known what he was going to say.

“Certainly. I mean, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Business as usual?” he said, wondering why he was bothered by her statement. He agreed with her. Didn’t he?

“Well, no. This isn’t business,” she admitted, a curious catch in her voice. “It’s personal. Normally, I make it a point to enjoy each…encounter, recognize it for what it is and move on. But this is different.” She was beginning to get a strange feeling about what was happening between them. “Like you said, I’m a direct woman. Since I’m being honest, I’ll confess I wanted you like I’ve never wanted any man. And you wanted me. How does that make you feel?”

“Horny as hell,” he admitted. “This was possibly a mistake, yet I’m about one touch away from making another.”

She laughed dryly. “Well, at least you’re man enough to admit when you’ve made a mistake.”

“And to admit when I’ve broken a few of my own rules.”

“Maybe we both did.”

The warm cocoon was dissipating. Cat didn’t like the awkward feeling. Always before, she and her partner had been on the same page. Tonight neither she nor her one-night stand had taken the lead and the result felt like two pieces of wire still sparking but no longer connected. It was time to go, before she did or said something dumb like “Can I live with you and have your children?”

Finally she made an uneasy move away. When he didn’t pull her back, she said the first thing that came to mind. “You think that coffee’s ready?”

“I’m sure it is,” he said, then stood and held out his hand to help her up. “By the way, if this were a business arrangement and I wanted to hire you, what would you have said to me?”

She stood, slid her arms into his flannel shirt, gathered up her damp clothes and headed to the fire in the other room, trying to put some distance between her and the man who’d just ravished her gloriously. “You don’t understand. It’s me that would be hiring you. And, that’s easy. I would have started by asking you to strip. Then I’d make you an offer.”

She didn’t know why she’d said that. That was her wise-cracking, break-the-ice line for models. But this wasn’t a wise-cracking kind of man. Suddenly she was confused. She had to get dressed and leave. Granted, her El Camino was low to the ground. Granted, the flat areas of Texas flooded quickly. Granted, he wasn’t an ax murderer. And he hadn’t done anything she hadn’t wanted. In fact, he’d done exactly what she’d wanted. Yet, she had the urge to run.

She heard him pad to the kitchen. Then she grabbed her clothes out of the bathroom, and as she leaned down and pulled on her jeans, she caught the scent of him again—as if he’d just removed his shirt and handed it to her. With nervous energy she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged the fabric close. For a long moment she held her breath, then let it out, chastising herself for being bewitched—for that was the only excuse she could come up with for how she was feeling. Clasping the towel with both hands, she leaned her head forward and began rubbing her wet hair.

“Coffee’s ready. Sorry, it’s black.” Wearing a pair of worn jeans, riding low on his hips, and a University of Texas T-shirt, he was carrying two mugs.

He walked over to her chair, handed her one, then moved toward the television. “Hope you don’t mind, but I want to catch the news.” He turned on the television and collapsed in his easy chair as if nothing had happened between them. Flipping channels, he seemed to focus all his attention on the news reports as if she wasn’t there. Was he finding this as strange as she was? Was he going to ignore her reply about stripping?

Moments later he was totally involved in the story of the solving of a five-year-old case, an undertaker who’d killed his wife and buried her in the same casket as the elderly aunt of one of San Antonio’s leading citizens. At the time, the undertaker appeared to be grief stricken. With no body or evidence to support foul play, the police had been forced to release him. The mortician’s wife had disappeared. Only the determined efforts of a Texas Ranger had finally solved the case. The problem was, he’d neglected to get permission from the family whose plot he’d disturbed.

Cat stood and walked over to the fireplace. The rain had stopped. It was time she left. As she turned to tell him, she noticed a desk in the corner and the pictures under the glass top. They appeared to be his family. Boys playing football. A girl hugging a guy.

No, not just a guy, it was the man she’d just made love with. He was wearing a white Stetson and a badge.

The woman was Bettina Dane.

“Now, for a word with the officer,” the television reporter was saying. Cat turned to the TV and watched him walk toward a tall, dark man wearing the customary white shirt and white Stetson worn by the Texas Rangers. “He’s the newest member of the San Antonio unit and he’s setting a remarkable record. A champion of law and order, he’s being called San Antonio’s supercop. Excuse me, Ranger—”

Cat leaned forward. She recognized that silhouette.

“—Jesse James Dane. Could we have a word with you?”

“No comment,” was the icy reply as he turned away.

Jesse James Dane. Bettina’s brother. The very man she’d planned to avoid. Suddenly a click changed the station to the weather channel where the forecaster was informing the public that the possibility of flooding was not over.