“I’m giving you a ride.” And he took her hand to prove it, leading the way out of the building and toward his car.

“I know you’d rather be alone,” Tessa said when they stopped by his car.

He unlocked his passenger-side door for her, waiting until she slid in before he leaned down and spoke, his mouth only an inch from hers. “Yeah, I want to be alone. Alone with you.” It wasn’t often he came right out and admitted such a thing to a woman and it had been a hell of a long time in any case. He expected a coy smile in return.

Or maybe mock shyness.

He didn’t expect her to lift up enough to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss the very corner of his mouth before murmuring, “That makes two of us.” Then her busy, hot little mouth worked its way to the other side of his for another nibble, keeping her eyes open on his the entire time. Slowly, purposely, she glided the tip of her tongue across the crease of his lips.

Hands shaking a little, he pulled back and put her seat belt on.

“Not here either, I suppose,” she said with a little sigh, leaning back as she echoed his earlier words in his office.

“Tess-”

“I know. Probably not anywhere, right?” She sat back and slipped out of her sweater. When she leaned forward to tuck the sweater down by her purse, her sleeveless, scooped-neck blouse gaped open enough to reveal the very top curve of her breasts, and her purple silky bra.

“We work together,” he said a little desperately. Did her panties match?

“Yep, we work together. We work and we obviously, as evident in your office earlier and also in the elevator a few days before that, do more.”

He shut her door and came around the car, sliding in behind the wheel. “It’s that ‘more’ that’s holding me up.”

“You don’t like making love?”

He jerked his gaze to her, then concentrated on merging into traffic because looking at her, seeing her need and hunger reflected in her eyes, a need and hunger that matched his own, killed him. “I like…making love.”

“Are you sure?”

Was he sure? The woman couldn’t see he had an erection threatening the very zipper on his pants? “Very,” he said tightly.

“Then what’s the problem? I mean, we’re attracted to each other, Reilly. Are you going to deny that?”

“No.”

“We’re also adults. So I don’t see why-”

“Because you deserve more than what I can give you.” He glanced over at her again. “Way more.”

“I don’t mean to sound contrary, but that’s my decision.”

His jaw started to twitch, a muscle reaction he hadn’t had since leaving the CIA. He put his fingers to the spot and said, “I’m an in-the-present type of guy.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I can give you work. I can give you conversation. I can even give you great sex, but-”

“Great sex?”

She looked extremely intrigued. Damn it.

“How do you know for sure?” she asked. “Unless we try it…”

Oh man.

“Ah,” she said, nodding. “I get it now. It was the L-word. I specifically said making love, didn’t I. Well, I’ll settle for wild, hot sex then. How about that, Reilly? Are you up for that?”

15

WAS HE UP for hot sex? Was she kidding? He was “up” all right. Reilly tried concentrating on the traffic, but for once there wasn’t much. He glanced at Tessa, who was waiting for him to answer. “You realize we nearly simultaneously combust every time we touch.”

She nodded. “Yes. Which I figure will come in handy in bed.”

Restraint sorely tested, he gave up reasoning with her and just drove. They were within a few minutes of her place when his cell phone rang.

Eddie’s number showed up on the display. “You get your wish,” Reilly said into the phone in lieu of a greeting. “I’m staying away tonight.” But he got no response to that, which was strange. Eddie had a response for everything. “Eddie?”

Still nothing. Not breathing, not a sound, nothing but a wide open connection.

With cool, calm precision, Reilly did a U-turn and got on the freeway northbound, heading toward La Canada. “Eddie,” he said again.

Still nothing.

Tessa was looking at him. “What’s the matter?”

A very bad feeling, for one. “Eddie,” he said into the phone. “I’m going to call 9-1-1-”

“Reilly.”

He nearly sagged in relief at the sound of his father’s whispering voice, even though it came from far away, signaling that Eddie wasn’t speaking into the phone at all, but at it. “Eddie, are you-”

“I can’t hear you,” Eddie whispered in an odd voice. “So I hope you can hear me. I dialed with my toes. I sure as hell hope you’re there and that you haven’t let some sweet young thing answer your phone for you. Wait, what am I saying, you don’t even like sweet young things.” He let out a little laugh. “Anyway, son, I’m in a bit of a bind, as you might have guessed. Literally. Don’t call the cops,” he said quickly. “You’ll see why when you get here. You are getting here, aren’t you?”

Reilly shook his head and pressed on the gas.

“I don’t want you to get upset or anything,” Eddie whispered, “but the police were wrong about Sheila. I’d call them myself and mention it, but…well, you’ll see.”

Reilly got off the freeway in La Canada and raced up Foothill Boulevard, going far above the speed limit.

Tessa’s fingers gripped the console, but she said nothing about his driving. “Is he okay?”

“I’m not sure.”

They turned onto Eddie’s street, but instead of pulling into the driveway, Reilly turned off the engine and kept his cell phone to his ear. Most of the La Canada Foothills were covered with growth indigenous to the mountains of Southern California. Eddie’s lot was no exception and the view of the house was blocked by tall, staggered oaks and pines. He turned to Tess. “Wait here.”

She already had her hand on the handle of the door. “What’s the matter?”

“I haven’t a clue.” Eddie had stopped talking, which was worrisome. “But given my father and his life, it could be anything.” He pulled a gun from the glove box and glanced at Tessa when she gasped. He tucked the gun in the waistband of his trousers. “You have your cell phone on you?”

“Yes. Reilly-”

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call the cops.”

“Reilly.”

He looked into her shocked green eyes and saw pure stubbornness. She was going to be difficult about this. He shouldn’t have been surprised. “Look, the call was just a bit strange, even for Eddie. Given what we’ve been through in this very house, humor me.” He looked into her eyes, willing her to listen.

She nodded, then pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. “Ten minutes or call the police-” he said, breaking off when he leaned in for a quick, hard kiss he hadn’t known he needed.

He pulled back and started to get out of the car.

“It’s getting dark,” she whispered, her hand grabbing the front of his shirt. “I know how you feel about the dark. Let me come with you.”

She was going to kill him, this woman of the soft eyes and soft heart and the body that could bring him to his knees. “Wait here,” he repeated, then got out of the car. He stepped off the sidewalk and into the thick grouping of trees as he made his way toward the house under the security of the growth, wondering what the hell he was walking into this time.

Darkness hadn’t fallen yet, but it was close and no lights had been put on upstairs. In comparison, the downstairs blazed with lights, as well as the sounds of glass shattering and other assorted thumps and bumps that signified either a temper tantrum or that someone had decided to help his father redecorate in a very expensive manner.

Reilly skimmed around the back, keeping hidden by all the bush, which was easy enough to do. Damn, his father was extremely lax in the security department. In fact, this whole place, with the myriad of windows and doors-everything-it was all a virtual security nightmare.

The back door was unlocked. Naturally. Eddie might as well put out a sign that said come screw me over, please. Since no more commentary had come from his cell, he stuck it in his pocket. Then he pulled out his gun and entered. At the sound of more glass raining down, he flattened himself against the wall and looked around. He stood in a lanai that led to a large den, which opened into the great room. From there he’d be able to see the kitchen.

That’s where the glass-crashing sounds were coming from. He entered the den and saw no one.

From the kitchen came a screech that sounded furious and frustrated. “Take that!” a woman screamed.

He took the safety off the gun and headed into the great room. He could see a woman in the kitchen systematically tossing every piece of china and glass from the cabinets with glee. Reilly didn’t recognize the fortyish, tall, leggy blonde, though she had the usual look of one of Eddie’s preferred women-blond, stacked and…hard.

“And take that!” she cried and dropped a vase that looked quite expensive. She stomped on it. “Take that, you son of a bitch! Everything in this place should have been mine, would have been mine, if you’d just fallen in love with me.” Another vase hit the floor. She stomped on that, too. “Like I did with you!”

“Well,” Reilly said. “That was your first mistake, falling in love with the bastard.”

Her head came up and she stared at Reilly, at the gun pointed at her, and blinked. “How did you-” she said, blinking again. “You’re not Eddie.”

“Nope.”

“You look just like the no-good, son of a bitch.”

“I had some bad luck with the genes,” he agreed.

She tossed back her blond hair. Slowly licked her lips. “Are you as good in bed as he is?”

“Step away from the counter and the island,” he said. “Out into the open.”