Stop in the Name of Love Read online

  “Well…” Her hands skimmed up his chest. “A few more might be nice. But just a few.”

  Gratified, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly, then kissed her again. He touched the corner of her mouth with his tongue and skipped it lightly along her bottom lip. A quick suck on its plumpness and he withdrew once more, savoring the taste of her.

  “Few enough? Or too few?”

  Dreamily, she gazed up at him from under sleepy lids. “Can you count to a hundred, Bridge?”

  “I’ll give it a try,” he murmured, pulling her tight against his chest. “But I might lose track…”

  He felt her arms slide around his neck.

  “Then you’ll just have to start over”—she shivered when he angled his face over hers so they nearly touched—“until you get it right.”

  With a soft moan he pressed his lips to hers, gently demanding entry. He wanted to consume her, to fill his senses with the taste and feel and smell of her. To touch her everywhere, and rock himself in the cradle of her warm, welcoming body.

  But he held back, feeding his overwhelming need with the sweet succor of her mouth. His hand fisted in her hair, and he held her fast as he plumbed her velvety depths.

  Her response was dazzling. Her body writhed against his with every wet dip of his tongue. Her fingers pulled at his hair and dug into the back of his neck, kneading his flesh to the rhythm of his strokes.

  He kissed her senseless, kissed himself witless, kissed her until the only thought in his head was how hot and good she tasted and felt in his arms.

  “Come here, angel.”

  Pulling her thigh over his, he set her straddling his lap, one folded leg on either side of him, face-to-face. Her skirt bunched up around her hips, and he could feel hot satin glide over burning denim where his body ached to join hers. He was near to bursting.

  He met her lips again while he massaged her back, his fingers testing for sensitive places on her shoulders, her ribs, her waist. He felt his way down her leg, then slid his hand up under her skirt. A little moan escaped her as he gripped her bare thigh.

  When his fingers touched satin, she pulled her mouth from his. “Bridge,” she panted, a reluctant warning.

  He leaned back against the seat and grappled for control, rubbing his hand up and down her thigh. She reached up to tenderly push a lock of his hair back from his brow, and he lost it all over again.

  He gulped down several breaths, let his head drop backward to rest on the seat back.

  “Oh, baby. I’m pretty sure I lost count somewhere around four or five,” he murmured.

  Smiling, she snuggled against him, her legs hugging his thighs, her arms lining his shoulders, her warm breasts nestled into his chest. He cuddled her close, feeling as though he’d landed somewhere just this side of heaven.

  Oh, what the woman did to him.

  He nearly groaned.

  From pleasure.

  From guilt.

  She must have sucked out every brain cell he possessed through that delectable mouth of hers. What the hell did he think he was doing? What would happen now when he told her he was a cop? And worse, that he was supposed to move in with her?

  Hell, he needed to tell her—right now—or he’d lose her before he’d even had a chance.

  And suddenly, nothing was more important than having a chance with this surprise-filled woman who had him scrambling like mad to recall exactly why he wasn’t interested in a serious relationship.

  Stroking her hair, he gathered his courage and opened his mouth to speak.

  She trailed her finger across his lower lip. “Well…”

  The confession caught in his throat. Coward. “Yeah, babe?”

  “You know what I always tell my kids?”

  “No, what?”

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  He tried vainly to dislodge his mind from his dilemma…and his cock. “Uh, practicing what, angel?”

  She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed at him with languid, smudged eyes. Her wide, kiss-stung lips pouted sensually.

  Oh, God. One look at her and he knew he’d do anything she asked. Anything.

  “Counting to a hundred.”

  He looked at those lips again and felt dizzy.

  Piece of cake.

  He bent toward her. Hell, this time he might even make it to six.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mary Alice melted against the heat of Bridge’s skin. She poured herself into the moist cavern of his mouth and disintegrated from the caress of his rough hands. She leaned into him, seeking…something…desperately.

  She wanted him. She knew it was stupid, stupid, stupid. The feeling would pass when she put some distance between them and regained some part of her ability to think rationally. But right now, in his embrace, she wanted only to lose herself in the passion of the moment.

  She had never, ever felt like this before. This insane craving. Not even with Jack. And that scared her to death. But she wouldn’t stop Bridge’s kisses for anything in the world.

  She could feel the callused pads of his fingers rake her skin, under her top. How had they gotten there? Shivering in pleasure, she arched her body against his, throwing back her head as he kissed his way down her throat.

  His thumbs passed over her breasts, deliberately stroking the quickened tips, and she cried out in blissful pleasure.

  “Let me touch you,” he coaxed, tugging her closer when she should have pulled away. “Just touch you.”

  The assault of his lips and his hands were too much to resist. It felt too good. “Yes,” she whispered into his mouth. “Please touch me.”

  He lifted her top and quickly undid the front hook of her bra. His large hands covered her breasts, enveloping them completely. She squirmed, her body instantly heating. She could feel the barely leashed urgency in his motions, and a part of her wished he would just let loose and take control. She moaned and rode his lap as he stoked her, moving in a slow circle, center to center. A low growl sounded from his chest that sent a thrill straight to her core.

  He must have sensed her compliance for he pushed her gently backward, and she went willingly, suspended in the safe web of his fingers and arms. His mouth closed over a breast and the breath left her body.

  She gripped his hair, holding his head. “Oh, God, Bridge.” The tip of his tongue found her nipple and she moaned, dragging him closer. “Yes. Mmm, that feels so good.”

  With a noise of gratification, he suckled deeply, his mouth moving expertly over her breasts. She twisted and turned in his grasp, tangled up in his arms and his fingers and his tongue. He drove her wild. She ground her hips against his, pulsing to the beat of her frantically pounding heart.

  She felt wild and free. Never had anyone unleashed such passion in her. In this man’s arms she became the woman she’d always kept hidden. The woman she suddenly longed to let loose and become.

  “Baby,” he half-moaned. “Honey, hold still.”

  Dazed, she pulled herself upright. His fingers dug into her arms as his lips covered her face with kisses. His breath came in gasps and a thin film of sweat covered his face. The truck’s windows were fogged, and the cab was filled with the scent of desire.

  “Angel,” he rasped, “you’re either going to have to hand me that box by your knee and slip off your panties, or dump a bucket of water over my head before I embarrass us both.” He groaned out loud when she shifted on his lap. “But for the love of God, don’t move until you decide which.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying not to move a muscle, mortified at her loss of control. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

  He choked, smiling through his obvious discomfort. “Oh, I disagree. I’d give you an A-plus in knowing what you’re doing.” As he leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes drifted shut. The little crinkles at the corners that she’d grown to adore popped into definition when he smiled. “A definite A-plus.”

  Her gaze strayed to the box of condoms on th
e bench by her knee. She bit her lip. For the first time in her life she honestly didn’t know which path she should take.

  Safe or risky?

  She’d made love with Jack, but it had never, ever, ever, felt like this. This urgent, gotta-have-him-now-or-I’ll-die feeling. The hot, molten lava at her center, aching to erupt at his every touch, or leave her paralyzed with disappointment if he slipped from her embrace. She hesitantly lifted her hand from his shoulder, still unsure whether she would reach for the box or not.

  His hand snaked up and caught her fingers. He brought them to his lips, kissed them one by one, then pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. “God, I want you,” he whispered.

  When he lifted his eyes to hers, she was shocked by the range of emotions she saw there. Raw, savage desire stirred in them, the likes of which she’d never seen. But also guilt, regret, and…was that a pinch of bitterness?

  Her stomach cramped. Instinctively, she knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.

  “In my whole life I’ve never wanted any woman as much as I want you right now.” The confession seemed torn from him, reluctantly. And, yes, maybe even a bit resentfully. “I’m ready to explode from needing you.”

  “I, um—”

  “Shhh,” he urged, putting his finger over her lips. “Before you say anything, I need you to do one thing for me.”

  She nodded, giving his finger a little lick of reassurance. She didn’t understand the change in her, couldn’t analyze what had happened to make her want to do anything this man asked of her. It felt so dangerous, so frightening. She had suddenly lost control of her body and her emotions, and she wanted nothing more than to jump out of the truck and run as fast as she could to get away from this awesome, desirable, and totally unsuitable man.

  But she knew she wouldn’t.

  She couldn’t.

  He scooted forward a bit and brought her hand around to the back of his jeans. “Reach into my back pocket and get out my wallet.”

  She hesitated, suddenly struck by a strong feeling of foreboding. Obviously, he wasn’t after a condom. And there was nothing in his wallet that she wanted to see right now. Her heart murmured in protest while her mind raced through the possibilities—pictures of kids…or a wife. Lab results from Ancestry.com saying they were first cousins. Whatever it was surely added up to massive hurt and disappointment.

  Wow. That was quick.

  No! It wasn’t fair. This wonderful lightness in her heart was too new to be crushed already.

  He must have seen the fear in her eyes, but he just nodded. “Go ahead.”

  Her hand began to shake but she dipped her fingers into his pocket and extracted the leather wallet.

  He exhaled, refastened her bra, and pulled her top back down over her breasts. “Open it.”

  Dread swirled through her. Blood pounded in her throat as she flipped up the cover, then froze in her veins at what she saw.

  It was a badge. A police badge. A Pasadena PD badge.

  A Pasadena PD badge with an ID above that said Detective Sergeant Russell Bridger.

  She gasped, dropping the hated symbol, feeling as if her fingers had been stung by touching it. She clapped her hands to her mouth in horror and stared into his chillingly calm eyes in patent disbelief.

  It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

  But the proof was right there.

  Hurt, betrayal, and anger roared through her. He’d deliberately lied. She’d told him about her fiancé, about her feelings regarding his profession, and still he’d relentlessly pursued her. All the while masquerading as something he wasn’t. Someone he wasn’t.

  “You’re a cop! A cop!” she choked out.

  He nodded. “Undercover.”

  “You bastard! You lied to me.”

  He didn’t even flinch at her words. “Baby, give me a chance to—”

  “No!” She was suddenly aware of his fingers gripping her thighs. She swatted his hands away, trying to scramble off his lap. She didn’t want him touching her. Ever again. “I am not your baby.”

  “Mary Alice, please listen to me.” He grasped her arms, attempting to calm her flailing.

  “You selfish bastard! You know how I feel about cops! How could you do this to me?”

  “I’ll admit things got a little out of hand tonight, but I did have some help getting them there.”

  She stopped struggling and stared hard at him, hating that he was right. “Let. Me. Go,” she gritted out.

  He released her and she launched herself out of the steamy atmosphere of the truck into the chill of the night. She bolted up the path to her front door, but he was right behind her.

  “Mary Alice, we need to talk.”

  “I don’t talk to cops,” she muttered. Or betrayers. Or men she thought she could love someday.

  This was a painful reminder of exactly why she wasn’t ready to date.

  “You’ll have to talk to me,” he said. “One way or another.” He took her key and unlocked the door for her.

  She shoved past him. “Good luck making that happen.”

  Nancy was so wrong. This was the last time she’d ever veer off her Master List. This was why she had the Master Plan. She was cured forever from experimenting.

  His voice was strong at her back, uncompromising. “I’m on a case. I need your cooperation.”

  She spun around, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. “You’re delusional. I’m not involved in anything a cop could possibly be interes—”

  Suddenly, the implication of his words slapped her in the face. She gasped and threw her purse onto the sofa. “Wait. You asked me out just to get my cooperation on a case?” For some reason, that hurt more than anything else about this mortifying situation.

  He didn’t say a word in response, but the guilty look on his face was answer enough.

  Wow, he really hadn’t been kidding about not wanting a relationship.

  “Get out. Now.”

  Instead of obeying, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “Your friend Charlie Watson works for Conrex Data Systems. We’re certain he’s selling top secret computer technology to the Chinese.”

  She clamped her jaw. “Even if I believed that, it has nothing to do with me.”

  “We need hard evidence to put Watson away, and we have to find out who his Chinese contact is. We’ve got Watson under a microscope, from his email to his financials, to his physical movements, and everything in-between. My assignment is to watch for activity at his house.”

  She scowled, not believing any of this. No way was Charlie a spy for the Chinese. A traitor to his country. Aside from which… “Since when is the Pasadena PD involved in federal crimes?”

  “I’m part of an inter-agency task force. FBI, PPD, and Homeland Security.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, the kettle of hurt and betrayal within her boiling over into irrational accusation. “And what? You thought you’d seduce me into trusting you, so I’d tell you all of Charlie’s dirty little secrets?”

  His eyes narrowed. “If I thought you knew any of Watson’s dirty little secrets, I wouldn’t be standing here.” He pinioned her with a look. “And if I’d been trying to seduce you, sweetheart, I’d be in your bed right now with you naked and under me.”

  He didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. She could feel the power emanating from him. He was like a magnet wrapping his carnal attraction around her, making it impossible to escape. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to deny his bald statement, praying he wouldn’t choose to prove that, despite everything, it was still true.

  “I want you out of my house.”

  “Not till I get what I came for.”

  Her pulse went into hyperdrive and the hairs prickled on her neck. She backed up a step. “And what is that, Detective Sergeant Bridger?”

  “I want to move in with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  For sheer audacity, Bridge had to hand it to himself. He’d certain
ly gotten her attention.

  Mary Alice’s response to his outlandish proposal was stunned disbelief. He watched her work past her instinctive assumption that it was sexually motivated, then reject that explanation as too outrageous even for him. He saw the exact moment when all the puzzle pieces fell into place.

  That’s when she really got angry.

  “Really, Detective Sergeant? A honey trap?”

  He winced at the formal venom in her voice. She shook her head and started backing away from him.

  “So what was the plan? Couple of dates, a bit of flattery, and the pathetic little nursery school teacher will be so grateful she won’t notice you watching Watson’s place from her bed? Oh, and be sure to tell her you’re not a relationship kind of guy, so when you bust Charlie you don’t have to feel guilty about your quick exit from the scene. Is that about right?”

  Watching the brave attempt to mask the pain and mortification that pooled in her eyes was like being gut shot. “You’re dead wrong, Mary Alice. That couldn’t be further from the truth, and you know it.”

  “Do I? The evidence is pretty damning, Detective Sergeant.”

  “The evidence that you’re wrong is right in front of your eyes.” He planted his hands on his hips to prove his point. “Besides, if what you say is true, why would I have stopped to tell you who I am, or what I’m doing?”

  Her eyes skittered to the front of his jeans, then rose defiantly, hurt still obvious despite her attempt to cover it with anger. “Basic humanity?”

  He pushed out a breath. “Fuck this,” he muttered, disgusted with his orders, and even more disgusted with himself. Then he turned and walked out.

  Screw Watson.

  Screw Grayson.

  Screw the whole goddamn task force.

  Let them get some other poor slob to move in and endure her haunted looks. He couldn’t do it. And if that meant being demoted to traffic duty, or even fired…well, it was worth it not to be reminded of what a slimy bastard he’d been to the only truly wonderful woman he’d known since the day his mama died.