Carly Phillips - Simply Sinful

“When she’s around, but her school hours and jobs are pretty irregular, so I’m often on my own. Cooking’s not my thing. It’s hers.”

Kane kicked back in his chair, studying her over steepled fingers. “You’re very different people, that much I realized immediately.”

His lazy gaze zeroed in on hers, causing her body temperature to spiral. The tight top that had felt liberating when she’d chosen it, suddenly felt confining. The heat pumping inside her couldn’t be denied or ignored. She wet her dry mouth with a sip of water before attempting to speak. “Cat and I don’t share the same passions, but…”

She didn’t get any further. His eyes darkened and the word passion hung heavy in the air between them. Considering she’d seen him in the throes of that particular emotion, Kayla couldn’t mistake the desire reflected in his gaze. Nor did she want to.

Needing control and wanting Kane weren’t mutually exclusive. She took a bite of her meal, but didn’t taste a thing.

He did the same. “Incredible,” he said in a husky voice. He gestured to the food on his plate, but his hooded gaze never wandered from her face.

She felt a burning flush rise to her cheeks. “I thought you were a steak and potatoes kind of guy, so I made…steak and potatoes.” She was rambling because his intense stare awakened her desires for so much more than food. Desires she’d promised herself to control until the time was right.

“You seem to know me pretty well,” he said.

Superficial information, Kayla thought, and it wasn’t enough. She wanted to know more. She shrugged. “Instinct. Something you cops must believe in.”

“It’s kept me alive more than once.”

She smiled. “And now mine is keeping you fed.” She pointed to the meal with her fork. “It’s not gourmet, but it’s decent food.” The time had come to push some barriers. “Mama couldn’t do more than boil a pot of water, but somehow, we did okay. Catherine’s been the cook in the house…ever since the restaurant owner gave her that job to work off the unpaid bill.” She glanced at Kane. “So who did the cooking in your house?”

He speared another piece of meat. “I made sure we didn’t starve, my uncle made sure we weren’t thirsty.”

She blinked, not yet comprehending.

“Alcohol, sweetheart. The man guzzled the stuff whenever he got the chance.” His face was a blank, uncaring mask.

Kayla suspected he wasn’t even aware of the change. He’d had too many years of practice, she thought sadly. “What about your father?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. He took a hike when I was five. Just like your old man.”

She nodded. Though she hadn’t known much about Kane’s family history, she’d always sensed he’d grown up on his own. Sensed he, too, knew what it was like to be alone. But she hadn’t realized how very much they had in common.

At least she’d had her aunt and her sister to give her a sense of family, of belonging. He’d had no one. “It wasn’t always easy,” she said. “But we got by.”

“Same here.” Having cleaned his plate when she wasn’t looking, he leaned back in his seat. “Your sister might be the chef in the family, but you’re pretty good yourself.”

Though she appreciated the compliment, she recognized the change of subject for what it was. “Thank you.”

“No sweat.” He rose and began stacking the dishes.

She shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

“No. You take it easy while I finish up in here. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“The books,” she said softly.

His expression darkened. “Yeah, the books.” He turned away.

She followed him to the sink, dishes in hand. His shirt strained against the powerful muscles in his back. They’d once rippled beneath her fingertips. She exhaled a sigh. If by a long night, he meant one fraught with sexual tension, she agreed.

His abrupt turn caught her unaware. Suddenly she wasn’t faced with the man’s back, but his face. His eyes, a turbulent wash of emotions, none of which she could decipher, settled on hers. Razor stubble darkened his cheeks, matching his current mood.

Her fingertips curled around the dish in her hand.

“I want to get one thing straight.” He eased the ceramic plate out of her grip and placed it in the sink behind him.

Nothing stood between herself and Kane, no barrier existed between his magnetic pull and her tempted body. Without the small dish in her hand, she felt exposed…naked. “What is it?” she asked.

“I’m here because I have a job to do.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she muttered.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here.”

Kayla forced a smile. “You want me. I think we’ve covered this territory before.”

“Yeah, I do. But my job means keeping you safe and, despite what I said earlier, that means keeping my distance.”

“I didn’t know one thing had anything to do with the other.” Just twenty minutes ago, Kayla had listed every reason in her mind why she wouldn’t sleep with Kane again. Hearing him agree with her, however, hadn’t factored into her plan and hurt more than she would have imagined. Now she found herself wanting to argue against her own logic.

This battle of wills they had going was beginning to wear on her. Coupled with the constant sexual pull, the result was a roller-coaster ride of emotions. She wanted the battle to end, but only Kane’s capitulation on all levels could do that. He had to trust in her-he had to trust in himself.

Funny, she thought. For years, she’d lacked similar faith in herself. But a few days with Kane, and she’d begun to regain the inner strength and belief she’d been lacking. He did that for her. And regardless of the outcome of them, she could never regret the time they’d shared.

But that didn’t mean she was about to relinquish control.

“One thing has everything to do with the other,” he said.

Kayla froze in place. She sensed the import of his statement, understood this was as close a view inside Kane’s mind as she was likely to get. So she listened.

“There’s something in life called an edge…at least there is in my life. Without it, I’m no good as a cop and even worse as a man. Every time I’ve let my guard down in any way, things go wrong.”

The guilt thing again. She shook her head. “You aren’t responsible for what’s happened to me.”

“That’s not what you said earlier.”

“You know that wasn’t what I meant. I wasn’t blaming you.”

“Then maybe you should. Maybe both of you should,” he muttered.

“Who, Kane?” she asked quietly.

He shut his eyes before speaking. Deep grooves formed at the corners, testament to how difficult this upcoming admission would be. “I always came straight home from school. My mother was fragile, and she relied on me walking in the door at the same time every day. Even before my dad took off, routine was important to her. She got up, washed her hands, ate breakfast, washed her hands, watched TV, washed her hands, I came home, she…”

“Washed her hands,” Kayla finished for him.

He met her gaze.

“She sounds obsessive compulsive.”

He shrugged. “I guess she was, but I didn’t know the clinical term back then. She had good days and bad days, up days and down days.” He drew a deep breath. “If I came home from school when I was supposed to, she took her medication on time. And the one day I didn’t…”

She walked in front of a moving bus. Kane didn’t have to speak for Kayla to hear. His body shook in reaction to his unspoken words. She reached out and took his hand, silently offering comfort.

The man shouldered more responsibility than was necessary, more guilt than she’d ever imagined. “You said she had good days and bad days, Kane. Isn’t it possible she didn’t kill herself, but got confused, or wasn’t looking? Did she leave a note?”

He shook his head. “Does it really matter? If I’d been home, it wouldn’t have happened.” His warm hand curled around hers. “And if I’d been thinking about my job and not preoccupied with my feelings for you, you wouldn’t have been attacked.”

Kayla tried to sort through his words, to hear past his misplaced guilt. He hadn’t let go of the boy who felt responsible for his only parent. He couldn’t accept it wasn’t an eleven-year-old’s job to be the adult of the household. While growing up, she and Catherine had borne too many adult responsibilities of their own, and felt an out-of-proportion responsibility for each other. Kayla could relate to Kane’s life.

The emotional barriers, the distance, and the all-consuming need to control things around him-they all made a strange sort of sense to her now. She wasn’t sure she could ever undo the scars embedded in his past, no matter how much she wanted to.

In the library, he’d told her he was doing all he could do. That had to be enough. When the case was over, if he wanted to stay, she’d welcome him with open arms. If he wanted to walk away, she’d let him go.

He deserved to know he had that kind of freedom.

HER TOES WERE PAINTED PINK. Ridiculous he would notice considering she sat deciphering books that put her life in danger. With all quiet for the moment, Kane leaned back in his seat enjoying the view.

She chewed on the eraser head of a pencil, her shimmering lips pursed in thought. Maybe he could take just a quick taste. He shook his head, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to lessen the constant ache of arousal, nor would it ease the pressure in his chest that had been present since their earlier conversation.

When was the last time he’d thought of his mother, let alone discussed his past aloud? It had been a long time and he planned for it to be never again. But if soul-baring had given Kayla an explanation for his reluctance to take things further, dredging up the pain had been worthwhile. She’d spent too many years believing herself unworthy of more than an admiring glance or a groping hand. Better she believed he had the problem, not her.

Better he walked away from her knowing he’d given something in return.

“Sullivan, John.” Her voice brought him back to the present.

“Another big player,” Kane said. “He owns real estate all over the city.” They’d been at the books over two hours. Rather she’d been at them.

He’d been watching. The shifting of her legs, drawing his attention to the warm place in between. The animation then the scowl of frustration crossing her face, resulting in a pout of her lips that made him desire more than a simple kiss. All in the name of the case, he reminded himself more than once, trying to push aside the things she made him feel.

The first book contained a list of female names that neither he nor Kayla recognized. The women, Kane assumed, who worked for Charmed!’s side business. The last few books produced a list of male names as impressive as it was extensive. Where before they only had an informant’s tip, they now had probable clients and their call girls. Thanks to Kayla’s intelligence and persistence.

As much as he’d fought against letting her handle things, he had to admire the results. He sure as hell admired the woman.

Kane was certain these highly placed, mostly married, men would talk. The more puzzle questions she answered, the longer the list of names had become. They covered all upper-crust walks of life. And none of these men would want the scandal sure to be caused if their private lives were made public.

“I need a break.” She stretched her legs out in front of her. Bare feet peeked from beneath narrowed blue jeans and she wiggled her toes in a long stretch.

“Put it away for the night. You’ve still got the end of a concussion and need rest.” Something he wouldn’t be getting much of tonight. After spending the evening watching her work, that much he knew for sure.

“Don’t I know it. Besides, except for one last run-through, I think I’m near finished.” Her eyelids fluttered closed, shades of exhaustion evident. “But I have to finish tonight.” She grabbed for the first book in their pile, the one that began the list of names, and fanned through. “We have a growing list, but we’re no closer to…Kane?” Her voice rose in excitement.

He sat forward in his seat. “What is it?”

“Major change here. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before. Look. All the earlier books were done in pencil, right?”

He nodded. Not that he’d have noticed if she hadn’t pointed her family’s quirk out earlier. Experts at crosswords did them in pen with no fear of mistakes.

“But here-there’s a mix of pencil and pen.” She studied the book for a second and grabbed another, glancing through it. “This one, too. Look.”

He was beside her in an instant.