Once a Cop Page 9

  Maybe she would have a dream, but not a bad dream. Maybe her dream of having a father would finally come true.

  Chapter Eight

  Holden wiped his damp palm on his jeans, then wrapped his fingers around the knob and pulled open the door. The tension and anticipation that had gripped him fled, replaced with disappointment.

  “Oh…” Holly murmured from behind him, apparently sharing his feelings, despite her friend’s arrival. “Hi, Miss Jo.”

  Was this Aunt JoJo, whom Kayla had mentioned at the school open house?

  Joelly Standish waggled her fingers at Holden’s niece. “Hey, kiddo. Great to see you again.”

  “You, too,” Holly said with a bit more enthusiasm. “Did you bring Sassy?”

  The blonde shook her head. “We just dropped her at the groomer’s.” She swung a pink duffel from her shoulder and handed it to Kayla. Then she bent down and hugged the dark-haired girl. “Have fun, sweetie!”

  “I will, Aunt JoJo,” Kayla replied as she hugged her back and then wriggled free. “Thanks for having me over, Mr. Thomas,” she said politely before running off with Holly. Their footsteps pounded on the stairs as they headed to Holly’s room.

  Holden turned toward the woman standing on his porch. “I thought I recognized you.” He’d refrained from mentioning this in class, not wanting her to think he’d been trying to pick her up with a tired old line.

  She shrugged. “Everybody recognizes me.”

  “Not from class. I thought I’d seen you before, like this.” She wore jeans and a sweater now, instead of the short skirts and tight blouses she sported most of the time. Her hair was in a high ponytail and black-rimmed glasses were perched on her nose. “You were at the open house at school. You’re Aunt JoJo—Roberta’s best friend.”

  “BFF.”

  “What?”

  She shrugged again. “Nothing. I thought you’d be at the shelter and that Mrs. Crayden would be here.”

  “And I thought you’d be Roberta.” Even though he’d agreed they should not see each other anymore, he’d wanted to see her. He’d been looking forward to it.

  “She’s having car issues, so I offered to drop off Kayla.” A pink SUV, undoubtedly hers, was parked at the curb in front of the house. “Why aren’t you working?”

  “Holly asked…more like begged me to stay home tonight and spend some time with her and Kayla.” Since he already felt guilty for spending so much time at the shelter, he hadn’t had the heart to refuse her.

  Joelly Standish grinned, then chuckled.

  “What?”

  “You’re being played,” she said.

  He furrowed his brow, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “I think you and Robbie have a couple of matchmakers on your hands,” she warned him.

  “No.” But even as he denied it, he realized she was probably right. Holly had been singing Roberta’s praises ever since she’d spent the night at the vice cop’s home.

  “Okay, whatever. Just remember that I warned you,” Joelly said. “So are you going to be here in the morning when Robbie comes to pick her up?”

  “No. I’ll be at the shelter.” He would make certain of it. “Mrs. Crayden will be here.”

  He’d been weak tonight because he’d wanted to see Robbie again—just to confirm the fact that he’d imagined his attraction to her, he told himself. But now he intended to stick to their agreement. He had to.

  The mayor’s daughter was probably right in thinking that his niece was playing matchmaker, but it was just because she wanted a mom. She didn’t even know Roberta Meyers.

  He wished he didn’t know her, wished he had no idea what she tasted like, how sweet, how passionate…

  He had been crazy to kiss her; his body still ached for her. But he’d hurt more, and so would Holly, if Roberta wound up on that memorial wall in the lobby of the police station. After witnessing more than once her dedication to her job, he feared it was damn likely that she would.

  ROBBIE’S HEART POUNDED as she hammered her fist on the front door of the stone-and-brick Tudor. Her daughter’s voice, quavering and fearful, echoed in her head. She had never heard Kayla sound so frightened before. The minute the door opened, she pushed her way inside. “What did you do to her?”

  “What…?” Holden rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  Robbie’s gaze skimmed over his tousled hair and down his bare chest to the pajama bottoms hanging low on his thin hips. And now her heart pounded even harder against her ribs. “Kayla—what did you do to my daughter? She called me, hysterical, and begged me to come get her.”

  Shock and concern brought him fully awake. “I thought they were sound asleep. I didn’t even know she called you.” He turned toward the ornate staircase in the center hall. “They’re upstairs.”

  Anxiously she ran up the steps. Kayla rarely spent the night away from her—maybe across the hall at Joelly’s or upstairs at Brenda the college student’s—but never with a virtual stranger. Even though Holden only lived a few blocks away, her daughter had been too far from Robbie’s loving arms.

  Holden followed Robbie, his long strides closing the distance between them. On the second-story landing, he passed her and led the way down the hall, pushing open a bedroom door. “They’re sleeping,” he said again.

  Brushing against his bare chest, Robbie shoved past him. Light from the hall illuminated the room and the two little girls who shared a full-size canopy bed. Holly’s face was buried in her pillow and Kayla lay on her back, her rosebud lips parted as she breathed evenly. Too evenly, without the faintest hitch…

  Legs trembling in reaction to her mad flight to Holden’s house, Robbie crossed the room. She knelt at Kayla’s side of the bed.

  “Sweetheart?” she whispered, running her fingertips along her daughter’s cheek. It was dry and warm with no trace of the tears she’d heard in the child’s tremulous voice when she’d called.

  “She’s fine,” Holden said from the doorway.

  “Kayla?” Robbie prodded her, needing her daughter’s assurance, not his.

  “Mommy?” her daughter murmured as she shifted against the pillow.

  “I came, sweetheart, to take you home.” She struggled to control her emotions. Whenever Kayla cried, Robbie had to fight tears of her own. “Like you wanted.”

  Kayla shook her head. “Now I wanna stay.”

  “Sweetheart, you called and said you wanted me to take you home,” Robbie reminded her. She wanted to take her daughter home, too, for without Kayla, the apartment felt so empty, and Robbie felt so alone.

  “It was just a bad dream,” Kayla assured her. “I’m okay now.”

  Robbie stroked her fingers over her daughter’s silky hair. “What was your bad dream about?” Had Kayla noticed the bruises on her mother’s throat? Was she scared that she’d nearly lost her?

  Kayla’s delicate shoulders moved in a shrug. “I don’t remember. I’m so tired.” She had yet to open her eyes. “I wanna go back to sleep. Let me stay, Mommy.”

  Robbie’s heart clutched. Her daughter so rarely called her Mommy anymore, convinced she was too old to refer to her mother the way a baby would. Robbie leaned over and pressed a kiss to Kayla’s forehead. “You’re sure you don’t want to come home with me?”

  Kayla nodded, her hair rustling against the pillowcase. “I wanna stay with Holly and Uncle Holden.”

  “Mr. Thomas,” Robbie automatically corrected her, alarmed that the child had grown so close to him in one evening. Apparently he had that effect on all females…

  “I wanna stay,” Kayla said again as she snuggled into the pillow.

  “It’ll be for the best,” Holden said. “You don’t want to wake her up and drag her out this late. Just let her stay.”

  She kissed Kayla’s cheek now. “I love you, baby. Call me if you change your mind.” And she’d come here every bit as quickly as she had the first time.

  She eased up from the floor, her gaze never leaving her daughter’s peacefu
l face. Had she imagined the hysteria in Kayla’s voice when she’d called? There wasn’t even a trace of tears on the child’s face. Robbie edged back toward the door, where Holden was leaning against the jamb. She passed him, this time careful not to touch him, and left the bedroom.

  He closed the door and turned toward her. “You did the right thing, letting her stay.”

  Robbie shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Her arms ached with the need to hold her child, to offer the comfort that Kayla had seemed to need when she’d called.

  Holden reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, then tugged her down the hall—not toward the stairs but away from them. Before she could react, he’d pulled her through an open doorway into a dimly lit room. A lamp burned beside a rumpled, king-size bed.

  She wrenched her wrist free of his grasp and whirled on him. “Why the hell did you bring me in here?”

  It was obviously the master bedroom, probably bigger than her entire apartment and definitely more elegant with its cherry-paneled walls. The draperies and bedspread, in a deep chocolate, matched and added to the masculinity of the room. The man standing half-naked before her surpassed the masculinity of the room, with his bare chest and the low-slung flannel pajama bottoms.

  He shoved the door shut with an open palm, then reached for her. “Not for this,” he said, even as he pulled her against his taut body. Then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

  She wedged her hands between them, intending to push him away. But her palms skimmed over bare skin and hard muscle, and her own skin tingled. Her pulse raced with excitement. Beneath her touch, his heart pounded hard and fast.

  Why was it that they lost control every time they came together? The reaction was more powerful than mere attraction or infatuation, but she refused to label it. For the moment she just wanted to enjoy. She’d missed him.

  She opened her mouth and invited him in; his tongue slid over hers. He tasted of mint and man. She clenched her fingers, kneading the muscles of his chest. Soft hair brushed her skin.

  Desire slammed through her so powerfully that a moan began to burn in her throat. He slid his hands down her back to the curve of her hips, pulling her tight against his straining erection. Her legs trembled. As if he sensed her weakening, he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

  “This is crazy,” she said as she sank onto a feather duvet and soft pillows.

  “I know,” he agreed, even as his gaze, eyes dark with passion, moved over her like a caress.

  “We agreed to stay away from each other,” she reminded him.

  “I’ve missed seeing you,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “I missed tasting you, touching you…” His fingers slid to the bottom edge of her sweater, toying with the slightly frayed hem. Her breath caught in her throat as he began to ease the fabric up over her stomach. He leaned over and kissed her navel, dipping his tongue into the indentation.

  She touched him, too, smoothing her fingers over the sinewy muscles in his arms and shoulders. As busy as he was, she was surprised he found time to work out, but he probably had a gym in his house—it was big enough—or at the shelter.

  Meeting her gaze, he watched her as he shifted her sweater higher over the satin cups of her bra. He traced his fingertips along the edges of the cups, where her breasts spilled over the top. Then he touched the front clasp, pushing against it until it popped loose. The undergarment fell open, baring her breasts.

  He groaned. “You’re beautiful, more beautiful than I imagined.”

  Her lips twitched into a smile. “You’ve thought about me naked?”

  He groaned again. “More than I wanted.”

  Pressure built inside her, and her femininity throbbed with the same urgency as his erection. He cupped her, teasing her nipples with his palms. She arched, pressing against him and wanting more.

  He tore his mouth from hers. Then his lips touched her breasts, pressing kisses against the sensitive skin until he reached a nipple. His tongue stroked across one tip while his thumb teased the other.

  “Please,” she murmured, needing more—needing him to release the pressure spiraling inside her. “Please…”

  But he lifted his head, his muscles tensing. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?” She listened but could hear nothing other than her own blood rushing through her body.

  His handsome face drawn taut, as if it nearly killed him, he eased away from her and rolled off the bed. Then he stalked over to the door and pressed his ear to the wood. He pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I thought I heard something…”

  “What was it—the sound of my common sense sailing out the window?” she asked.

  His lips quirked into a wry grin. “Your common sense? I thought that was mine.” He turned back to her, to how she lay on his rumpled bed, and his grin faded away. Then he expelled a ragged breath, leaning back against the door. “We had an agreement.”

  “To stay away from each other,” she reminded them both as she reclasped her bra and pulled down her sweater. But it didn’t matter that she’d covered up; she could still feel his mouth on her. She still ached inside, longing for more.

  “I intended to stick to that agreement,” he said earnestly.

  “So if you didn’t bring me in here for…” She patted the bed as she rose from it.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t.”

  She found her shoes, realizing only now that they’d fallen off, and stepped into them. “Then why did you bring me in here?”

  That grin flashed across his face again. “I wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t want to wake the kids.”

  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. It tasted of him. “I should have taken her home.”

  “Your daughter is fine,” he said, reaching for her once more.

  But Robbie pulled back. If he touched her, they’d wind up back in his bed, and she doubted that they would regain their senses. She couldn’t be selfish and focus on her needs; she had to think about Kayla. “I’m not sure that she’s fine. She never has nightmares. I don’t think she feels safe here.”

  “She’s safe here,” he said tersely. “I don’t think it’s my house that made her feel insecure.”

  “What are you saying?”

  He bit his lip, too, as if holding back what he really wanted to say. She didn’t need to hear the words to know what he thought.

  “You’ll never accept my job,” she said.

  “No,” he replied. “I can’t.”

  Although she flinched inwardly, she managed to shrug as if she didn’t care. “It’s really not that dangerous…”

  He shook his head. “Just since I’ve met you, you’ve been shot at and almost strangled.”

  “Those were wild shots—”

  “That I hear fired often down by the shelter. The streets are dangerous for runaways and the cops who police them.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “As proved by those videos they showed in class.”

  “Being a cop isn’t a death sentence,” she insisted.

  “That’s not what the memorial in the police station lobby implies.”

  “Given how long the Lakewood Police Department’s existed, there haven’t been many officers who’ve died,” she pointed out. “Although even one is too many.”

  “Someday your picture could be a part of that memorial.” He shuddered.

  “I’m careful.”

  He shook his head, his jaw clenched. “No, you’re not. You’ve been lucky.”

  Anger burned now, heating her blood just as desire for him had moments ago. “I’m good at my job.”

  “I was the one who had the nightmare tonight,” he said, “remembering you in that alley, getting the life choked out of you.”

  “And I defended myself,” she reminded him.

  “Even if nothing ever happened to you I’d be the one worrying every time you left for work, thinking that you might get hurt. Or that you might not come back at all. I li
ved through years of that worry over my sister. I can’t go through it again.”

  “I heard you the first time you told me that,” she said.

  He gestured toward the rumpled bed. “I had to remind myself.”

  She summoned her pride and headed toward the door. As she pulled it open, she turned back and promised him, “I won’t let you forget again.”

  He didn’t say anything as he followed her downstairs and opened the door for her.

  “I’ll ask Joelly to pick Kayla up tomorrow morning,” she said. “We’ll stick to our agreement from now on.”

  His eyes dark with regret, he nodded.

  But as Robbie walked out to the borrowed SUV, she worried that it was too late. She’d already begun to fall for a man who had vowed he would never love her.

  Chapter Nine

  As Holden surveyed the dining hall, tension pounded in his temples and the base of his head. In the six months since he’d opened the shelter, he’d never seen so many empty tables. The new metal detectors, no matter how discreet, had scared away some of the regulars. Or else the increase in number and decrease in age of the security guards had. Students at Lakewood University’s Police Academy, the guards were nearly the same age as the kids they were assigned to protect. The chief of police had recommended them.

  Of course Holden wouldn’t have considered any of the changes if not for Robbie. And most of the kids at the shelter knew it. They grumbled their complaints around bites of food as he joined some kids from his morning youth group.

  “It’s startin’ to feel like juvie around here,” Todd griped, “with all the cops.”

  “They’re not cops.” Not yet. He really wanted to ask the kid how he knew what juvie was like, but the teens were already skittish. He didn’t want to scare off more of them with an interrogation.

  “But you’re doing all this because of that chick cop,” Todd said as he lifted a sandwich to his mouth.

  “That lady cop is a real bitch,” Skylar added. The fifteen-year-old’s green eyes hardened with bitterness. Holden was glad she hadn’t left the shelter like so many others had. The streets were infinitely more dangerous for her, a pretty, young girl. She reminded him so much of Lorielle.