Stealing His Heart(40)

Her nonchalance in the face of danger hit him, swift and strong. He leaned in, touching noses with her. Didn’t she realize he needed her to be safe? Or how much she meant to him?

“Do you have any idea how much danger you could be in right now ?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

She scoffed. “Please. I don’t care how dangerous he thinks he is. He won’t get to me.”

“Bullshit.” Jake tightened his grip on her, wanting to kiss her into submission. “You’re not safe from men like him. No one is.”

“Sure I am. No one ever suspects me. I’m a rich woman who is supposed to be happily married with a bunch of trust fund kids by now.” She shrugged. “Well, no one suspected me until you, anyway.”

He flexed his jaw, anger and worry over her safety making him see red. “If you don’t tell me how you cracked my code, he will find out who you are. He’ll know your name, because we’ll have to tell him. Do you understand that?”

She jerked her chin free. “I don’t care. Tell him my name. Give him my address. Hand me over to him. I don’t care.”

Deep breaths. Keep your head, Jake.

“Well, I do, damn it,” he said, his gut twisting tight. “I care. You need to tell me the secret to cracking the code, and you need to do it right fucking now.”

She frowned at him and shoved his shoulder. “I can’t. You, Soltese, and everyone in the Shillings Agency can go to hell.”

“Can’t.” He leaned against the wall. “I’m already there.”

Because of the way he felt about her. Because he was going to have to trick her, or send her to jail, and he didn’t fucking want to. Because he wanted more, with her.

He wanted to be happy, damn it.

Those unwelcome feelings, combined with the knowledge that she was in danger, and quite possibly would soon be behind bars, were enough to drive a saint insane…and he was no saint.

She went back to the keypad, leaving his last comment untouched.

Now came the tricky part. The part he’d been devising since her name crossed his desk. “In the future, it would be nice if we had someone in the company who checked into backgrounds to make sure this lapse in judgment doesn’t happen again.”

She froze with her finger on the fifth button. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He forced himself not to watch her, to act as if he wasn’t offering her a job. Because he was. “We’re going to be looking for someone to fill the position soon.”

She pushed some more buttons, her back stiff. “Is that your goal? To get me to agree to a safer job? To be my knight in shining armor, rescuing me from a life of danger and loneliness?”

Cocking his head, he studied her closely. He’d never said anything about her being lonely. She’d told him that all on her own. But he knew all about being on your own. Way too well. Going to bed alone. Waking up alone. Eating Christmas dinner alone.

Having to rely on himself and no one else. But maybe…maybe he didn’t want that anymore. Maybe they could be lonely together, or something.

Shit, he didn’t know.

“I’m not a knight, or a hero. I’m a warrior with a lame leg. I’m one of those men who can do nothing but sit by the fire and reminisce on the good old days, while secretly wishing he could go back out and fight.”

Her mouth dipped down, and she bit down on her tongue. She looked…sad. “You’re so much more than that, Jake. Don’t you see how wonderful you are?”

He gave an uneasy laugh. “No. I don’t.”

“But I do. You’re more than you think you are.” Playing with the buttons of his vest, she made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “I care about you, Jake. I know it’s crazy, and stupid, but I want…I want you. I want to be with you.”

No way she could care about him. Not after everything he’d done to her—and everything he still had to do. He should tell her there was no hope for them in the future, because there wasn’t. He wasn’t good enough for her, but he wished he was.

Fuck, he wished he was.

He kissed her.





Chapter Eleven

Tara clung to his hard forearms, taking everything he gave her, and yet still needing more. When his lips moved over hers, her stomach clenched as the familiar scent of his cologne teased her senses, the taste of his tongue drove her wild.

All too soon, he pulled back. “You have to fig—shit.”

Bending down, he rubbed his thigh, a grimace etched on his face. She swallowed hard and glanced down at his leg. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Without replying, he turned away. He let go of his thigh quickly, as if he just now realized he’d been rubbing it in front of her. “Yeah. Especially when it’s going to rain. But it’s not a big deal. I’ll be fine. It always goes away.”