Dream Man

For two seconds he didn’t answer. She felt the lift of his chest as he slowly inhaled; then, thankfully, blessedly, he moved back a step. “I’m not here as a detective. I just came to see if you’re all right.”

The heavy sexual tension eased with the small distance between them, making her feel as if she had been freed from shackles. The relief made her light-headed, a reaction she countered with action. “I’m fine,” she said briskly, and went down the steps before he could stop her. Oh, damn. His car was blocking hers in the driveway. She stopped, and her self-control had returned enough that she hesitated only briefly before turning to face him. “I have to leave or I’ll be late to work.”

He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive. You have plenty of time.”

“I like to leave early, in case of trouble.”

The explanation didn’t budge him. His heavy-lidded hazel eyes moved over her, their expression shielded. “Anything else scare you last night?”

“I wasn’t scared.”

“Couldn’t prove it by me.”

“I wasn’t scared,” she repeated, this time with her teeth clenched. His obstinance was already fraying her temper. She needed to get away from him, now.

“Sure you were. And you’re scared now.” His gaze raked over her again. “Though not for the same reason,” he said softly. This time when his eyelids lifted, she saw the predatory gleam of male awareness.

Marlie stiffened, a chill of apprehension touching her. He might not be psychic himself, but his male instincts were acute. It would be more difficult to evade him than she’d thought, for he sensed the response she couldn’t quite mask. He came down the steps toward her, and she swiftly retreated to her car. She jerked the door open and slid behind it, using it as a barricade against him.

He regarded her over the open door, his eyes sharp now, piercingly intent. “Calm down,” he murmured. “Don’t get in such a snit.”

She glared at him, agitated almost beyond endurance. If he didn’t leave soon, she was going to lose control and say something she knew she would regret. She clutched at the door for support, her knuckles white with the effort. “Move your car, Detective. And unless you have a warrant, don’t come to my house again.”

Great going, Hollister. Dane felt violent as he swore at himself. He glared down at his desk, ignoring the noise around him of overlapping voices and the incessant ringing of the telephones. He was raw with frustration, both sexual and professional. There were no leads in the Vinick case, no evidence. The investigation was going nowhere, and it looked as if his interest in Marlie Keen was rapidly headed in the same direction.

What else had he expected? That she wouldn’t notice his erection jammed against her ass? The wonder was that she hadn’t started screaming.

He should have moved back immediately when she had stepped out of the house, but he hadn’t. The first accidental touch of her body had frozen him in place, all of his senses painfully focused on the contact. It had felt so good that he had barely been able to tolerate it, but at the same time it hadn’t been enough. He had wanted more. He had wanted to strip her naked, to thrust inside her. He had wanted to feel her legs wrapped around his hips, wanted to feel her quivering beneath him as she came. He wanted to dominate her, smash her resistance, bend her so thoroughly to his will that he could take her whenever he wanted … and he wanted to protect her from everything and everyone else. That was why he had been on her front porch this morning. He hadn’t been able to rest all night, almost certain something had frightened her but totally certain that she wouldn’t welcome his concern if he’d called her again. When morning came, he hadn’t been able to resist. He’d had to see for himself that she was all right.

So what had he done? Alienated her even further. He had mishandled her from the very beginning, and he still had no idea what he was supposed to do about her. Officer Ewan had cleared her of being at the scene of Nadine Vinick’s murder, but she obviously knew something about it, and had come to the police with it. So what was she, a suspect or a witness? Logic said the former, some uneasy instinct said the latter, and his dick frankly didn’t give a damn.

“You’re in a piss-poor mood,” Trammell commented lazily, all tipped back in his chair and watching Dane’s expression.

He grunted. There was no denying it.

“Talked to Marlie lately?”

Annoyed, Dane shot him a glance. “This morning,” he said briefly.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Nothing? Then why did you call her?”

“I didn’t.” Restlessly Dane twirled a pencil. “I went over there.”

“Oh, ho. Keeping secrets from your partner, huh?”

“No secrets to keep.”

“So why did you go over there?”

Damn, all this interrogation was making him feel twitchy. Dane had a brief moment of sympathy for the suspects he and Trammell had questioned for hours. A very brief moment. “No reason,” he replied, blatantly stonewalling and not giving a damn if Trammell knew it.

“No reason, huh?” Trammell was having fun. His dark eyes were gleeful. He had never thought he’d see the day when his good buddy Dane would be so antsy over a woman, and he intended to enjoy every minute of it. Dane never had woman trouble; they had always cared about him far more than he cared for them, which gave him a tremendous advantage in his relationships. He’d never mistreated a woman, but at the same time their influence on him had been very slight. If they didn’t like his irregular hours, tough. If he had to miss a date, so what? He’d never given anything of himself beyond the physical to a woman, because the job had always come first. Dane was a damn good cop, one of the best. But he’d pretty much sailed unscathed through the rough seas of romance, unlike the rest of them who wrestled with the conflicts between job and relationships, so it was nice to see him squirming now.