McIver's Mission Read online

  It didn't matter that this wasn't what he wanted, that she wasn't what he wanted. As he'd told her last night, it wasn't about choice or preference. He still wasn't sure that two career-oriented people could make a relationship work, but he knew they had to try.

  Arden sipped her own coffee, but she continued to look at him with a mixture of caution and confusion. She'd dressed casually for her office appointments today, in a pair of softly faded jeans that molded to her long legs and the curve of her buttocks. Tucked into the jeans was a peach-colored flannel shirt, of which the top two buttons were undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of creamy flesh. Her hair fell loose past her shoulders, like a soft wave of silk that his hands itched to dive into. Her eyes, he noted, were wary, and there were purplish smudges beneath them.

  "Rough night?" he asked.

  She seemed startled by his question, apprehensive. "Why do you ask?"

  "You have shadows under your eyes."

  "So much for the wonders of cosmetics," she muttered.

  He didn't think he needed to tell her that she still looked beautiful. There was something about her fragile beauty that intrigued him. Her skin was flawless, almost translucent, like the porcelain dolls his mother used to collect. Her outward appearance gave no indication of the strength inside. She was steel wrapped in silk, but even steel had a breaking point.

  "I'd like to think you laid awake all night thinking about me," he teased. As he'd done, thinking about her. But he sensed that whatever caused her sleeplessness was deeper in origin.

  "Yeah, that's it," she agreed dryly.

  "Are you worried about the letters?"

  "No."

  Any further inquiry was stalled by the delivery of his breakfast. His mouth watered as the plate was set in front of him: two thick Belgian waffles piled high with blueberries and dusted with powdered sugar, a half dozen slices of crisp bacon on the side. He picked up the syrup dispenser, poured a liberal helping of warm maple syrup over everything. Arden, he noted, was eyeing the plate with interest.

  He cut off a piece of waffle, bit into it. The pastry was warm and fluffy, the berries plump and tart. He murmured with pleasure.

  "This is so-o-o good."

  Arden sipped her coffee.

  "You have to try it." He cut off another piece and held the fork toward her.

  She opened her mouth to accept the offering, then chewed slowly, savoring the rich flavor. "It is good," she admitted.

  "Are you sure you don't want your own?"

  She shook her head. "No, thanks." But she did nip a slice of bacon from his plate, munched on it while he continued to work his way through the waffles.

  "Why do you always seem to be feeding me?" Arden asked.

  "I'm trying to fatten you up."

  "Why?"

  "I like my women soft and cuddly."

  Her eyes narrowed; Shaun grinned.

  "Did I offend you?"

  "Not at all," she said primly. "Because I have no interest in being one of your women."

  He chuckled. Damn if he didn't want to haul her into his arms right now and kiss her senseless. As much as she might want to establish boundaries for their relationship, he knew they both wanted the same thing when she was in his arms. When he kissed her, when she kissed him back, nothing else mattered.

  "You're not my usual type," he agreed, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather forecast.

  Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't respond to his bait.

  "What is my usual type?" he asked for her, in the same pleasant tone.

  She picked up her coffee, sipped again, apparently uninterested. But he knew better.

  He tilted his head, studying her. "Petite, blond, compliant. Someone who reads Stephen King and has more in her refrigerator than half a dozen cups of yogurt and diet cola."

  "Everything I'm not?" Arden guessed, drawn into the discussion.

  "Something like that."

  "So why are you here with me?"

  He shrugged. "Maybe I can't resist a challenge."

  "Is that what I am?" She raised an eyebrow. "A challenge? Is there a pool in the courthouse to see if you can thaw the ice princess?"

  "I don't know if there's a poor or not," he told her. "But I know that anyone who uses that name doesn't have a clue about you."

  "And you do?"

  "I think I'm starting to."

  She dropped her eyes. "You're wasting your time if you think I'm going to fall into bed with you. I've already told you that I have no interest in being the latest in your long string of playthings."

  "That's not what I want, either."

  She stole the last piece of bacon from his plate, nibbled on it.

  "Maybe it started out that way," he admitted. "But lately I've been starting to think you might be the one."

  Her eyes widened a fraction, and he was sure he detected a hint of panic in their depths. "The one what?"

  "The right person at the right time."

  She shook her head, as if to deny even the possibility.

  Shaun smiled, but didn't push. He'd said enough for one day, and he didn't want to scare her off. She'd figure it out for herself, when she was ready.

  "Let's get you to the office," he said instead.

  * * *

  Arden pushed open the door of the little café and stepped into the cool morning. There was a bite in the air, as if winter was already on the doorstep and it wasn't even the middle of October. Shaun took her hand in his, linked their fingers together. The gesture struck her as strangely intimate, but comfortable, as if it was perfectly natural for the two of them to be walking along Court Street holding hands.

  She was preoccupied with their breakfast conversation throughout the walk to her office. She didn't believe that Shaun's interest in her was anything more than a passing attraction. He'd admitted that she wasn't his type. She didn't imagine he'd want to spend the next couple of months with her, never mind the rest of his life.

  And she wasn't in the market for a relationship, anyway. She wasn't comfortable with intimacy and she wouldn't set herself up for more rejection and heartache. She knew that Shaun McIver could break her heart, because as much as she tried to hold back, to distance herself from her feelings, she was already starting to fall for him. But as long as she was aware of that fact, she felt confident that she was still in control and could prevent herself from getting in too deep.

  She unlocked the door of her office and disengaged the alarm. Shaun was right behind her as she walked through the reception area. The ever-efficient Rebecca had stacked the files for her morning appointments on her desk before leaving the night before.

  Arden gestured to the pile. "I have to review these before my clients come in."

  "Are you trying to get rid of me again?"

  She nodded.

  "All right, I'll go. I have to put the final touches on those bookcases, anyway." But he stepped closer to her, framed her face in his palms.

  She knew he was going to kiss her again, and the anticipation was almost as devastating as the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers. Her eyelids lowered as his lips cruised over hers, slowly, expertly, completely seducing her.

  She gave up trying to fight the attraction between them. What was the point in reciting words of denial when this was what she wanted? She knew it wasn't smart, she knew it might be a big mistake, but right now this was what she wanted.

  She wound her arms around his neck, buried her fingers in his hair.

  Maybe he wasn't so crazy to think that they might be able to build something special. Maybe this was what she'd been looking for, what she needed. Maybe…

  "Arden, I have some questions about the separation agreement you asked me to— Oops." Marcy cleared her throat as Arden and Shaun sprang apart. Her lips curved. "Sorry."

  Arden tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stepped behind her desk, needing to put some physical distance between her and Shaun, and to remind herself that this was her office. She was a l
awyer, for God's sake, not some hormonal teenager who couldn't control her most basic urges. "Mr. McIver was just leaving."

  Shaun waited a beat, as if he wanted to take issue with her dismissal. But then he nodded. "I'll talk to you later, Arden."

  "Okay." But she didn't look up from the appointment list on her desk.

  "I am so sorry," Marcy said again, after Shaun had gone.

  "There's no reason for you to apologize," Arden assured her. "This is a law office and what you walked in on was inappropriate and—"

  "Arden," Marcy interrupted. "It's your office. You can have sex on the desk if you want." She grinned. "But you might consider locking the door first."

  Arden managed a smile in response to the gentle teasing. "I don't do things like that."

  "Why not, if that gorgeous hunk of a man is willing? And he seemed, from this perspective, very willing."

  Arden felt the color in her cheeks deepen. "Shaun and I are friends." She needed to remind herself, as much as Marcy, of that fact.

  "Yes, you did look rather … friendly."

  "You had a question about the Randalls' separation agreement?" She needed to get things back on track. She'd spent enough time digressing and daydreaming about Shaun McIver.

  Marcy passed her the thick document she'd drafted. "Mr. Randall hasn't given us all the financial information we need, and his company won't provide us with a pension valuation without a signed release from the employee."

  "Have you contacted his lawyer?" Arden asked.

  "I've tried," Marcy told her. "I've left no less than a dozen messages over the past week. Mr. O'Connor always seems to be in court or with a client."

  "Of course he is," Arden agreed testily. "And he wouldn't set foot in his office on a Saturday." She dropped the document on top of the pile of files. "I'll give him a call first thing Monday morning. If we don't hear back from him, we'll go to court to get a compliance order."

  "Do you want me to draft the documents?"

  Arden shook her head. "No, he'll comply. He's just jerking you around because he thinks he can."

  "I wish I could have handled it," Marcy said. "I'm not sure I've been all that much help to you."

  Arden glanced up, surprised by the hesitant uncertainty she heard in her associate's voice. "You're kidding, right?"

  Marcy shrugged. "You seem to spend so much time explaining things to me, I often wonder if it wouldn't be easier for you to do them yourself."

  "Of course not," Arden denied, feeling guilty that she hadn't recognized Marcy's need for reassurance. The younger woman seemed so willing and capable, and Arden had been so preoccupied with everything going on in her own life, she'd never considered that Marcy might be nervous about the new job. "Not only have you been a big help to me, you're already building up your own clientele."

  Marcy offered a tentative smile. "I love the work I'm doing."

  "Good. Because now that you've been here a few months, I'm not sure how I ever handled things without you."

  The smile widened a little. "Thanks."

  "But if you don't butt out of my personal life, I'm going to have to fire you."

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  "This is getting to be a habit," Lieutenant Creighton said when he strolled into Arden's office Tuesday afternoon.

  Arden offered a weak smile. "I wouldn't mind if it stopped."

  "I know." He lowered himself into one of the chairs across from her desk, his broad frame dwarfing the chair. "Where's the letter?"

  Arden lifted her briefcase onto the desk, flipped the locks open. She lifted the envelope by one corner, hated that her, fingers weren't steady.

  "I just got this one," she said.

  "When?"

  She walked over to the bookshelf, wishing she could as easily distance herself from the letter she'd handed over, and crossed her arms under her breasts. "It was in my car when I got out of court this afternoon."

  "In your car?"

  She nodded.

  "Was your vehicle locked?"

  She nodded again, swallowed uneasily. "Always."

  Creighton picked up the letter opener from her desk and sliced through the envelope. Unable to stop herself, Arden stepped toward him as he drew the single page out and unfolded it.

  "THE DAY OF RECKONING IS NEAR."

  Arden shivered, unnerved by the cryptic message spelled out in bold red letters.

  "It sounds like he's getting ready to make a move," Creighton said.

  As far as she was concerned, he'd already made a move. He'd been in her office, her apartment, and now, her car. He'd made it clear that he could get to her, he was just taking his time about it. She felt so victimized and vulnerable already, she almost wished he would come after her. Whatever he did couldn't be worse than the waiting and the wondering. But she knew that wasn't true, either, and she felt the helplessness overwhelm her. She didn't know how to deal with this nameless, faceless threat; she couldn't combat an enemy she didn't know.

  "Am I just supposed to wait for that to happen?"

  "I've requested round-the-clock surveillance, but the captain won't approve it until we know for sure that this isn't some wacko who gets his kicks sending threatening letters."

  Arden nodded. She understood that with recent cuts to the police budget they didn't have the manpower to spare to appease her hysteria, and she had received meaningless threats before. But her gut told her that this time it was different. This time it was real.

  "I wish you'd reconsider your decision to stay at your apartment. I don't think you should be alone."

  "I'm not going to let him scare me out of my home." More important, she wouldn't subject anyone else to the potential danger.

  "You should be scared," Creighton told her.

  "You just said it might be some harmless wacko."

  "No, I said my captain thinks it might be."

  "What do you think?"

  He hesitated briefly, then pinned her with his steely blue gaze. "I think he's dangerous."

  While she appreciated his honesty, it did nothing to appease the tension inside her.

  His words echoed in her mind, and the tension remained hours later when she returned to her empty apartment. Alone.

  When Shaun called, as he seemed to be in the habit of doing every night now, she was absurdly relieved just to hear the sound of his voice. It made her wonder, not for the first time, if Shaun McIver wasn't potentially more dangerous to her peace of mind than some anonymous pen pal. Because just the sound of his voice, the deep, soothing timbre of it, made her forget about everything but him. The realization was more than a little disconcerting. She was, after all, an independent and self-sufficient career woman. She took care of herself—she always had. She didn't need anyone.

  Except she wasn't entirely convinced of that anymore. She felt so helpless and out of control, and she wanted to lean on somebody. On Shaun.

  "How was your day?" he asked.

  She shook off the memory of the letter and Lieutenant Creighton's visit and everything else and allowed herself to be soothed by his voice. "Fine."

  "Did you think about me?"

  "Not at all," she lied.

  "Yeah." She could hear the smile in his voice, felt her own lips curve in response. "That's what I figured."

  "How was your day?" she asked.

  "The same," he said. "Except that I've been thinking about you."

  "Shaun." She tried to infuse a note of warning into her voice.

  "What?"

  "We're just friends."

  "Of course," he agreed. "Do you have any plans for tomorrow night?"

  No, was the response that came immediately to mind. But she knew better than to give him an opening. "Why?"

  "Because I thought you might want to see the new Pierce Brosnan film."

  "Are you asking me on a date?"

  "Of course not. I'm just suggesting a movie with a friend."

  "That's all?" she asked warily.
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  "Maybe some popcorn, too."

  Arden laughed.

  "Is that a yes?"

  "Yes," she agreed.

  * * *

  So they went to the movies the following night. Then to the art gallery the night after that, and the Fairweather Fall Carnival two days later. Any time Arden expressed concern that maybe they were spending too much time with each other, Shaun would assure her it was natural for friends to want to be together. And because she enjoyed being with him, she let herself believe it was true. But every minute she spent with him, she found herself falling just a little bit more in … like, she decided firmly.

  Tuesday night Shaun took her to DiMarco's for dinner again, ostensibly to celebrate his success in having a client acquitted. Arden didn't care what excuses he made anymore. She just enjoyed being with him. So they shared succulent chateaubriand, a wonderful bottle of cabernet sauvignon and stimulating conversation. It amazed her that they never ran out of things to talk about.

  Shaun signaled the waiter for the check. "I'm going to Washington tomorrow for a seminar. I won't be back until Friday, but you can reach me at the Courtland Hotel in Georgetown if you need me."

  Arden fought the instinctive surge of disappointment. It was, she assured herself, a natural reaction considering how much time they'd spent together. It certainly wasn't anything more personal than that. "You don't have to clear your schedule with me," she said.

  Shaun shook his head. "You still don't get it, do you?"

  She was almost afraid to ask. "Get what?"

  "This. Us."

  "It's not like we're dating. We're friends."

  "Yes, we are," he agreed. "And more."

  "I don't want anything more."

  He picked up her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. She tugged her hand away, uncomfortable with the myriad of sensations the brief caress elicited.

  Shaun's grin was quick, his gaze heated. "Liar."

  She frowned but didn't comment.

  "Have you been seeing anyone else over the past couple of weeks?" he asked.