Dangerous to Touch

Chapter 10

Marc awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented. His hand was reaching out to pick up his Glock before he knew what he’d heard to alert him.

The sound of an intruder outside reminded him where he was. At Sidney’s house, playing bodyguard. Stokes would have a conniption if she found out.

Rolling off the couch, he made his way to the kitchen window and crouched under it, staying low. Sure enough, someone had removed the screen and was trying to wiggle the window until the faulty latch disengaged.

They didn’t know he’d already fixed it.

From his vantage point, he could see the glint of blond hair and hear muffled curses. Lowering his weapon, he stood and flipped on the backyard lights.

Samantha Parker jumped sky-high.

“You scared the hell out of me!” she shrieked when he opened the door.

“Sorry,” he lied. “Someone broke in today. I thought you were a burglar.”

Her glassy eyes slid down the length of his body, pausing on the gun he held at his side. “Sid was robbed?”

“Nothing was taken, that I know of.”

“Thank God,” she said with a wicked smile. “I was going to ask her for a loan.”

Sidney’s sister was spoiled, self-absorbed and drop-dead gorgeous. She was also clever enough to know her own faults, and unpretentious enough to laugh at herself. Against his will, he liked her.

“Ah, Detective, you’re a heartbreaker when you loosen up,” she said as she passed by.

“Lieutenant,” he corrected.

She arched a sultry glance over her shoulder. “Look good in your boxer shorts, too,” she said. “Are you screwing my sister?”

“Not yet.”

She laughed. “Still working on it, huh? She’s a tough nut to crack.”

He gave the patio a once-over before he turned off the light and locked the door. “That’s what your husband said.”

Her spine stiffened at his words. “Oh really?” she asked. “And when did the two of you have the pleasure of meeting?”

“The other day, when you dumped off your kids with Sidney and disappeared. He came by looking for you.”

She whirled to face him, her blue eyes icy. “I’ve been going through some emotional turmoil lately,” she defended. “Why should Sidney be the only one who gets to act loony?”

“Does it run in the family?” he asked, intrigued by her admission.

“Mental illness? Sure it does. Mama’s Southern.” Rearranging her features from snow queen to sex kitten, she settled herself in the spot where he’d just been sleeping. “Daddy met her in Lafayette, Alabama, on leave. Whatever she had must have been contagious because he’s been crazy in love with her ever since. Or-” lowering her voice, she slid her hands over the rumpled sheet in the guise of smoothing it “-just plain crazy.”

“He was in the service?”

“Bomber jet pilot,” she said, her tone softening with pride. “Won a medal in Korea, another in Vietnam.”

Marc was surprised. “You two were Air Force brats?” he asked, setting his Glock down on the empty chair.

“Oh, no. Mama made him quit. She blamed him for the way Sidney turned out, too. Said Agent Orange mutated her genes.”

Marc couldn’t tell if she was serious, or if Samantha was one of those women who told wildly exaggerated stories just to get attention. “Where are they now?”

“They have a condo in Miramar, close to the base. He watches the jets fly by every day. It’s the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.” She tilted her head to one side, assessing him. “If you’re looking for a way to get to Sidney, asking about Daddy is a good start. She was the apple of his eye.” Her lashes fluttered. “It’s so Elektra.”

“Were you jealous?”

“No, but Mama was.” Her gaze traveled over him again, lingering on his bare chest. “I’d love to talk all night, sugar, but I’m wore out. You wanna share this couch with me, or go upstairs to work on Sidney?”

He tried not to react to the provocation. “I’m not here to work on her. There’s a killer out there somewhere, in case you haven’t been keeping up with the news.”

With a wide yawn, she unsnapped her designer jeans and pushed them off her hips, revealing a tiny pair of black lace panties.

Marc wondered why Sidney’s plain cotton briefs turned him on more.

“No man would rape me.”

His eyes rose to her face. “Why not?”

“’Cuz I’m easy.” Stretching out on her belly, she smiled.

“Tempted?”

“I’d have to be dead not to be,” he said, although he wasn’t having any trouble resisting her. Samantha was just his type: sexy, blond and available, in a no-strings-attached kind of way. But when he looked at her, he saw her only as Sidney’s troubled sister.

Gathering up his clothes, he went to the woman he really wanted, instead of staying with the one he could actually have.

Sidney stretched like a cat, reveling in the sound of raindrops hitting the windowpane and the smell of freshly washed sheets.

She loved sleeping in on a rainy day.

The weather had broken. A cool, misty breeze drifted through the open window, and it was a welcome respite from the stifling heat of the past week. Snuggling deeper into the covers, she let herself doze off again, knowing the alarm would wake her in time for work.

In her dreams, Marc was there with her, a tantalizing warmth against her back. She arched against him, wanting to feel more.

He slipped his arm around her waist, smoothing his palm over her belly and brushing his lips across her nape. Her nipples tightened with arousal and heat pooled in her lower body. Encouraging him, she covered his hand with hers, pushing her bottom against his erection. With a low groan, he drew her even closer, sliding his naked thigh between her bare legs. The skin-on-skin contact was shocking; the hard pressure of his muscular thigh nudging the sweet ache between her legs, exquisite.

The hand on her belly moved up under the hem of her T-shirt. He cupped one breast, then the other, teasing her taut nipples with his fingertips until she moaned her pleasure. When that hand wandered down beneath the waistband of her panties, her eyes flew open.

This was way too real to be a dream.

Sidney scrambled off the bed, taking the sheet with her, clutching it to her tingling breasts. Too late, she realized the error of her ways.

She should have left the sheet with him.

Marc was stretched out on her bed, mostly naked, a devastating image of masculine perfection. He was all sinewy muscles and dark skin, the thin cotton boxer shorts he was wearing showcasing rather than concealing his heavy arousal.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…” He followed her gaze to his erection. “Getting you off?”

She threw the sheet at his chest. “Getting yourself off, more like.”

“That, too,” he admitted with a wince. “Your sister came in last night and stole my spot on the couch.”

“And that gives you the right to touch me?”