Текст книги "Hard Beat"
Автор книги: K. Bromberg
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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Epilogue
5 months later
“You can’t look!” I tell her, pulling her hands away from the blindfold covering her eyes and then directing her through the house with my hands on her shoulders.
“What in the world?” she says, but I can hear the excitement, sense her trying to figure out what I’m doing.
“Stop right here and put your arms over your head.” I love the odd expression that appears on her face before it slides into a coy little smile.
“Well, Pulitzer, I know my belly is getting big and all that, but if you wanted to get kinky, all you had to do was ask. These pregnancy hormones have no problem having some fun.” Her throaty laugh fills our bedroom as I pull her T-shirt over her head. She does a little wiggle of her hips when I push down her yoga pants, but she keeps her arms up as if I’m cuffing them there with my own hands. “See. I must have expected this, because I’m not wearing any panties.”
And she sure as hell isn’t. That ache of desire that doesn’t ever seem to go away simmers anew at the sight of her in her bra, swollen breasts spilling over, and nothing else. I step back and appreciate the view of her naked body, still beautiful, still petite, but with a little basketball of a belly that makes a pride surge in my chest like I never could have imagined.
I lean forward and press my lips right above her navel. “I’ve got a surprise for your momma,” I murmur against her skin stretched taut and smelling like cocoa butter. And even though I’m in a hurry, I close my eyes momentarily when BJ lowers her hands to the sides of my cheeks and just holds them there in the sweetest of moments because I still can’t believe how all of this worked out.
When I step back, I know the questions will start again as her curiosity fires over what I’m up to. “Hands back above your head,” I order. She’s still thinking I’m going to do something kinky and the idea has never been more appealing while watching her obey my command, but we can do that later. I’ve got plans first.
First, I pick up the tank top that Rylee had helped me select and after a few fumbling seconds direct her hands through the holes of the sleeves and slide it down over her body, throwing a prayer up that it fits.
“I’m so confused.” She giggles as I pull the fabric down over her belly and sigh in relief that it stretches enough to fit around it. Next I pick up the pants with the stretchy waistband, drop to my knees, unable to resist running my fingertips up the line of her legs, and watch the goose bumps that appear in their wake. “Tanner.” She sighs from the feeling that causes her head to fall back and lips to fall open.
The sexy sight of her almost makes me want to put off my preparations and keep up this blindfolded game. But not quite. We can do this later. All night if she wants to, but right now I’ve got plans.
“Put your hands on my shoulders,” I tell her when I’m done smoothing my hands back down her legs and direct her hands to my shoulders. I help her into the pants, leg by leg, and pull them up so that they rest just below her bump.
“I could get used to this kind of play,” she murmurs, which causes me to chuckle but earns her a swat on the butt in turn.
“Later, Rook. I promise you,” I murmur, “I won’t forget, but right now I have a bigger surprise for you.” The smile comes instantly when I step back and see her in a khaki tank top and camouflage cargos, much like her constant attire when we met.
“Tanner,” she pleads as she shifts on her feet, antsy for whatever I have in store for her, and the best part of this whole thing is that I know exactly what’s going through BJ’s mind because I’ve left carefully planted clues a few times in the house.
Right now she is thinking that I’m throwing her a surprise baby shower. For the past month, since I’ve been planning everything for tonight, I’ve left random Post-it notes on my desk in plain sight about dates and party supplies, I’ve made cryptic phone calls to Rylee where I hang up suddenly when BJ enters the room, and I’ve made her register for baby items although she technically knows no one other than my family now. So BJ thinks I’m throwing her a baby shower, and I am in a way, just not the kind she’s imagining.
No. Her real baby shower is happening next weekend. Too many surprises in one day might not be good for the baby, and I definitely think this one takes precedence over next weekend’s.
Unable to resist her any longer, I lean forward and press a tender kiss against her lips. And even though I pull back when she tries to deepen the kiss, I bring my hands to the side of her face and hold her still while my forehead rests against hers, and I just drink everything about her in – all of the little things I thought I’d never get the chance to experience again – because it’s moments like this I’ll never take for granted.
“Do you trust me?”
“One hundred percent,” she says without hesitation in a way that makes my heart squeeze in my chest but causes me to fall silent while mentally preparing my little family for these next few moments.
“Good. I’ve got somewhere you need to be,” I tell her as I press one more kiss to her lips before sliding my hands down her bare arms and taking her hand in mine. With a gentle squeeze I give it a tug so that she lets me lead her the rest of the way.
Once I clear the sliding glass door of the kitchen out to the backyard, my breath catches because this is so very real now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My eyes flicker across the backyard and try to see it how BJ will see it when I remove her blindfold. Glass votives are scattered along the grass, their light adding a soft glow to the sunset’s vibrant colors splashed across the evening sky. A mattress sits on the grass, covered in a native fabric that Pauly shipped over to me. I rigged a canopy of sorts over the mattress as well. A woven bag sits atop it, a wine bottle sticking out of the top, while the rest of the wares are hidden. And the finishing touch is a blizzard of bubbles that floats through the air around us, reflecting the colors of the sunset and the light of the candles.
It’s as close as I can get to the last night we spent on the rooftop of the hotel when she told me she loved me. I hesitated once to say it back. Right here, right now, I want a do-over of the moment to show her I won’t ever hesitate again.
Standing behind BJ with my hands on her shoulders, I lean forward and press a kiss to the bare skin of her nape. “You ready?” I murmur, sounding like I am calm and collected when actually my heartbeat is racing out of control. I can feel her hesitancy mixed with curiosity as the breeze blows, causing her hair to tickle the sides of my face.
I step in front of her and remove the blindfold slowly. She blinks for a few seconds before her eyes find mine and hold my gaze. Even though there is a surprise I’ve arranged for her that I know she’s curious about, when she opens her eyes, she immediately looks straight at me and her gaze does not wander. That little gesture says so much to me about who we are together and the future we have stretched out before us.
And it also solidifies that what I’m about to do is something I’ve never been more sure of.
Unable to handle my own excitement any longer, I break our hold and step to the side so that I can watch her reaction: the shocked gasp, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth, her widened eyes, and the tears that instantly begin to well in them. She gives herself a few moments to take it all in, to absorb what I’ve done before she looks over to me with so much love in her eyes, it makes my chest constrict with emotion.
“You gave me the rooftop back,” she says with awe in her voice. I just nod, reach out for her hand, and lace my fingers with hers. And then through the surprise she remembers that I changed her clothes and looks down and laughs aloud when she sees her uniform of sorts. “Tanner!”
“Just trying to make it as real as possible.” I chuckle as I tug on her hand for her to follow me, but she just stands there, one hand resting on her swollen belly, and her head slowly shaking back and forth as she takes it all in one more time.
I step into her and press my lips to hers, nerves heightened, and yet nothing has ever felt so right to me. “I have more to give you.”
“Oh I believe you’ve already given me enough.” She laughs, her hand moving in a circle over our baby she’s carrying. “But I want to see it all!” Her eyes light up as she releases my hand and walks down the steps toward the replica rooftop setting.
My feet are rooted in place as I watch her move down the path. She waves her hands to try to catch some of the bubbles and turns around like a child, enjoying the simplicity, arms out, face towards the sky. Déjà vu transports me to that last morning we had together when I snapped her picture with my camera phone and wondered how she’d look on my back porch and if we could withstand everyday life in the real world.
We’ve proven that and then some, our relationship flourishing with this second chance at love. Life has changed so much in the five months since she has come back to me: moving in together, learning the ins and outs of each other’s personalities that we’d missed in hotel living, adjusting to the sudden changes but loving every single minute of it, even the growing pains, understanding that the simple blessing of each other’s company is the biggest extravagance and greatest part about finding your other half. Then add to that quitting my job in spite of her protests. Explaining to her that I got the second chance with her I’d prayed for; I wasn’t going to travel overseas on assignment and miss a single second with her or the baby.
My transition to a new job as an investigator for a local news station hasn’t gone without some bumps along the way, but it allowed me the freedom to finish and publish my novel. I can’t believe how successful it’s been. But then again, with a heroine based on Beaux, how can it not?
It’s been crazy. All of it. I never thought hanging up my credentials would be so easy for me. But the best part is that every single change has brought us to this moment, right now.
She walks into the blizzard of bubbles with her face to the sun and a laugh on her lips. And there is something about watching her like this that makes me step back and enjoy the feeling of my heart beating faster. She looks better than I imagined she would right here when I envisioned it all of those months ago.
She stops, arms out to her sides, bubbles clinging to her hair, and smiles at me. “You gonna come dance with me?” she asks as I move toward her.
“In a minute. I even have music this time… but first I have other surprises for you,” I say as I take her hand and bring her to the mattress, holding her hands to help as she lowers herself to sit down.
“The bag!” she exclaims. “You kept it?” Wonderment and nostalgia fill her eyes when I nod.
“It’s the only thing I had left from that night, so when I packed to come home, I brought it with me.” I shrug away the thought of how desperately lonely I was without her.
“That’s so sweet.” She traces a finger along it. “Wine?”
“One glass won’t harm the baby. I asked the doctor.”
She throws her head back and laughs as she thrusts the bottle at me to open since she’s done without it for this long. “I figured you’d ask the doctor about sex in the third trimester, not wine.”
“Well, I did ask that too.” I wink at her with my smile a permanent fixture on my lips.
“Of course you did! Now what else is in here?” she asks. “Can I open it?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I murmur, trying to focus on pouring the wine and not spilling it while I keep watching her pull things from the bag.
“Wow, you really made sure this was authentic,” she says as she takes out cheese and chocolate, and then a soft sigh of pleasure falls from her mouth as she pulls out the last item in the bag. “Bubbles,” she murmurs, her fingers toying with the lid and her eyes finding mine.
“Bubbles.”
“Don’t you think there are enough of them floating around us?” she teases as she leans forward and brushes her mouth against mine. I close my eyes and flick my tongue between her lips, drinking her in before I pull back and look in her eyes.
“I think we should add to them. Don’t you? Match the moment and then we can add a different ending to it, don’t you think?”
“I like that idea,” she murmurs against my lips before leaning back, granting me a coy little smile as she twists open the top of the bottle.
My heart lodges in my throat and it takes everything I have to not fidget or tell her to hurry up or anything else of the sort because this is all I’ve thought about since the blast that rocked our world took her from me and then brought her back. This moment. How I’d do it if I got a second chance. I got one, so I’m not looking back.
When she twists the cap off, I watch her brow furrow when she notices there isn’t any bubble liquid inside the container. She ever so slowly pulls the wand out, her breath hitching when she notices the platinum and diamond engagement ring attached to the end of it. Her eyes flash up to mine as she looks back at the ring and then at me again.
“Tanner…,” she says cautiously although her eyes light up with happiness.
“How’d that get there?” I tease as I reach out and take the wand from her.
“No. Mine!” she says as she pulls her hand back so that I can’t take it from her before throwing her head back and laughing. And that laugh… It’s one I’ll carry with me to my death because it embodies the personality of the woman I love, how carefree and happy she is now. How I’ve helped her to achieve that. How we’ve found it together.
I press my lips to hers, my nerves skittering out of control but my heart never steadier. “Yes, it is yours, but I’m kind of old-fashioned and want to do this the right way if you’ll let me.”
Her smile softens as she brings a hand up to my face and mouths, “I love you,” before reaching out the bubble wand to me, tears welling in her eyes.
“I wanted to make tonight perfect for you. So many things I need to say, want to say, but I thought this” – I gesture to the setting around us – “would say a lot of it for me.” I take a moment and breathe in before I continue. “I loved you before I even knew the real you. I loved you that night when you told me you loved me up on the rooftop and I hesitated to say it back to you… because one, I wanted it to mean something, and two, because I couldn’t. When you told me, you knocked me on my ass, jump-started my heart, proved to me how real love was supposed to feel. So I hesitated, didn’t say it back, and then I cursed myself for so many days and weeks afterward because then I was too late and couldn’t say it to you.”
I take her hands in mine before looking back up to the green of her eyes. “So tonight I want to tell you there is no hesitation on my part. I learned my lesson. I love you, Beaux BJ Blair Rookie.” Her laugh rings out, and I love that even though her hands are steady, a tinge of nerves edges the sound because that shows this means something to her too. “And I don’t want to waste another moment hesitating on starting our life together. You’re it for me. You and this baby are all I’ve ever wanted when I never thought I wanted this life. You give me the hum, the buzz, the adrenaline rush I’ve spent my life chasing every time I think of you, each time I kiss you, and just knowing you came back to me. You’re all I need, all I want, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” My question hangs in the air, hope weighing it down and bubbles lifting it back up as she just stares at me and a ghost of a smile curls up the corners of her mouth.
“I guess that means I’d better withdraw the restraining order, then, huh?”
Relief surges through me with the nervous laughter that falls from my lips, because even though I was sure of the answer, that’s a pretty steep cliff for a man to be teetering on. “So, that’s a yes?”
“On one condition.”
“Anything,” I say without hesitation.
“That you put that blindfold back on me later.” She raises her eyebrows and laughs.
“I’ll do whatever you want with it as long as I know you’re tied to me for life.”
She leans in and brushes her lips to mine and murmurs against them, “Then the answer is yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes,” she says.
That buzz? It roars in like a goddamn tornado, wreaking havoc and devastating every single part of my body, but I’m okay with it. Because who knew the hum that I’ve lived by on the hard beat would end up giving me the love I was missing to make my heart beat?
Excusive Bonus Scene
Turn the page for an exclusive bonus scene!
See what Beaux was thinking when she first laid eyes on Tanner…
Tanner Thomas is a household name on the foreign beat. I’ve heard he’s a strict professional who is returning to the field after a tough blow with the loss of his partner. The unfortunate turn of events is admittedly horrible, but it makes him a perfect match for me. Someone who probably doesn’t want to team up with anyone new and by the laws of human nature won’t want to get close to anyone right now.
Laughter erupts on the other side of the room, causing me to glance over to where I last caught a glimpse of Tanner’s back. As always on a mission, disinterest is my best friend. It allows me to slip below the radar, slide seamlessly into the flow of things, and always remain on the periphery.
But as I observe the various reporters, producers, and photographers working their way toward him, it strikes me there is something different in the atmosphere tonight. The general mood in the room is lighter, energetic, and in some inexplicable way has a sense of hope.
I don’t want to attribute it to the presence of Tanner Thomas. It’s ludicrous to believe that a single person can breathe life into a community as has happened tonight.
But there’s no denying it either.
And it’s not just the alcohol flowing more freely than normal. There’s a current in the room that’s indescribable. It’s like they know he’s finally returned, so things are going to start happening here again instead of the day-after-day monotony that has been the norm since I arrived more than two weeks ago.
“C’mon, T-squared!” someone yells with a slap of his hand on the bar, and I start craning my head back and forth to see between the crowd of bodies from my spot on the other side of the bar.
“I’m game if you’re game!” A voice booms before I can catch a glimpse of what’s going on. I don’t need to see whose lips are moving to know it was Tanner speaking, because chills raced over my skin at the sound of the familiar baritone I know from watching his broadcasts. It’s likely just the knowledge that I’m so close to pulling my boots up and wading straight into the thick of my cover that causes the goose bumps to come. That undeniable thrill of anticipation.
That has to be the cause of the sudden fluttery feeling in my stomach.
Another reporter I’ve spoken to on a few occasions, Gus, I believe is his name, hands me a shot with a whoop of a laugh, and before I can even ask why, a hush falls over the room.
“Shh. Shh. Shh.” Pauly, a fellow reporter, climbs atop a chair, a shot glass filled with amber liquid in one hand and his other motioning for the lot of us to quiet down. He looks down to his right, and for the first time I catch a fleeting glimpse of Tanner’s face before the crowd shifts and I lose sight of him again. “Tanner Thomas… we are so glad to see your ugly ass back in this shithole. I’m sure once you hand our asses to us time and again by getting the story first, we’ll want you to leave, but for now we’re glad you’re here. Slainte!”
“Slainte!” I say back in unison with the rest of the crowd; then the sound of swearing fills my ears as the burn of the alcohol hits everyone’s throats.
Needing to appear to be a part of the group, I take a sip, but I know well enough that a drunk woman in a city like this is just asking for trouble. And I get in enough trouble on my own, thank you.
When I glance back through the crowd again, I’m startled when I lock eyes with Tanner. It’s only a split second of time, just long enough for me to tip my shot glass to him before someone moves and blocks our connection, but it’s enough to have me holding my breath and for that fluttering to return in my belly.
I sit there in complete indecision for a second, since that momentary connection disarmed me for some reason when I’m hard to rattle. Jesus, Beaux, it’s not like you’ve never met a mark before. Exhaling slowly, I tell myself that I need to keep my wits. It was stupid for me to search him out since I don’t plan on introducing myself to him face-to-face until our assigned meeting at ten tomorrow morning. Besides, my new boss, Rafe, might not have even told him about me yet. He warned me Tanner was going to resist the idea of a new partner, that he might be tough on me. Little did Rafe know that in my line of work, tough is an everyday norm.
So if I don’t plan on meeting Tanner until tomorrow, why do I keep looking back to where he’s sitting? What am I going to gain with one more glimpse of him?
Absolutely nothing.
And yet I look again. This time there is a complete break in the crowd, and I catch Pauly’s eyes. By the way he smirks at me, then looks over to Tanner and throws his head back with a laugh, I know they are talking about me. Call it woman’s intuition or just plain curiosity, but I know. And now I definitely can’t look away.
The problem, though, is that not looking away means that my gaze moves from Pauly to Tanner, and this time I’m afforded more than just a glimpse of him. I’m granted the whole entire package.
Dark hair frames his tanned face, and there’s something intriguing about his eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on across the distance. I don’t have a chance to consider it for very long because when he shifts his gaze and his eyes lock on mine, I freeze in place – lips shocked open, heart skipping a beat – and a flash of something I want to deny as being attraction flickers through me.
But this time I recover quickly and turn my lips up into a slow, knowing smile as we hold each other’s gaze. In contrast to the flash of hunger I catch in his eyes, he nods his head nonchalantly with an arrogant curl to his mouth before looking away.
But I keep staring.
And there’s something about the whole exchange that infuriates me.
I need to remember he’s just my cover, the man I need to partner up with to protect my ass. So there’s no reason to be irritated that he just reeled me in with those eyes and then disregarded me without so much as a second look. Ironically it’s the exact same thing I had planned on doing to him – use my looks right off the bat if I sensed any attraction in order to catch him off guard enough to use my brain and intuition to do my job.
I may be an agent, but first and foremost I’m a woman, and no woman likes to be made to feel inconsequential. For the first time in forever I am pissed about someone not noticing me.
Agitated and irritated, I’m suddenly tossing back the shot I had no intention of drinking. The burn comes fast, and I hope my sense follows suit, because no man has ever thrown me off my game when it comes to work, romantically or otherwise – and yet with a single glance, Tanner Thomas has done just that.
I turn the glass around in circles on the scarred tabletop as I try to figure out what exactly it was about the exchange that instantly had him getting beneath my skin. It was ten seconds tops, and yet those ten seconds packed a punch I never expected.
It had to be the look he gave me. While I’ve seen him a hundred times filing live reports – and I’ve both appreciated his looks and admired his skills – nothing prepared me for the absolute intensity in his eyes. Not to mention the flash fire of heat that surged in my lower belly when our gazes met.
And with that last thought, I’m immediately shoving my chair back. All my best laid plans have gone out the window: play it cool, meet face-to-face for the first time tomorrow, fly under the radar. I’ve made a living on being able to read people, and in that brief meeting of our eyes, he was able to get a visceral reaction out of me. That in itself is rare. Even more unheard of is for me to take the bait and say fuck it to my rules, which is exactly what I’m doing by walking across the bar to face this head-on.
There’s something about the contradiction between the look in his eyes and his rigid posture that tells me he doesn’t like to be handled. Wants all of the control. And God yes, in a lover that’s sexy as hell, but in a man I have to work with under difficult circumstances, it’s not so appealing. I need to get the upper hand here so I can control the situation before it even starts.
Fate has to be on my side because the barstool next to Tanner is vacant when I approach. So I slide into the seat, face him, and wait for him to look my way. I know he senses my presence. I can see the stiffening of his posture, the fleeting tension in his fingers, but he doesn’t lift his eyes from where he’s tracing lines over the grooves on the scarred wood bar top.
He’s attractive in an odd combination of rugged mixed with preppy pretty boy. Camera-worthy looks but with a hint of edge to the lines giving character to his face.
The seconds pass as I wait him out, questioning my decision to come over here, but I won’t back down now. I’m not wishy-washy. Hate women that are. I didn’t get where I am professionally by being a damn doormat. But standing here waiting for him to glance my way suddenly unnerves me.
“Whoever you’re looking for, I’m not him,” he says without looking up.
The part of me that felt uncertainty sags in relief and welcomes his hostility. I can definitely work with his lack of warmth, hold on to it, and use it to my advantage to find my footing. He has no clue that we’re about to enter into a partnership.
“I don’t believe I’m looking for anything.” I feign nonchalance, don’t want to give him any more than he is giving me and yet at the same time hope it brings a reaction out of him. Something. Anything.
“Good.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, but at least he hasn’t gotten up and left. I glance up to the bartender and then back toward Tanner. “Whiskey sour,” I order from the bartender, and notice a slight startle of Tanner’s head in my periphery. I smirk, his reaction giving me the perfect in to get his full attention. “And put it on his tab.”
Bingo. Tanner snaps his head up and immediately meets my gaze. If I thought the intensity in his eyes was powerful before, it’s tenfold now. The problem is that it’s not just the intensity that pins me immobile, but also the unique amethyst color of his eyes mixed with his undeniable good looks. Proximity to him might not have been a good idea because I find myself captivated by him.
A completely foreign and unwelcome feeling hits me so fast that I shove away from the bar top. I maintain my smirking expression and the challenging look I’m giving him even as my insides somersault into nothingness and that quick ache of lust hits me head-on. The flash of intrigue commingled with amusement in his eyes tells me that he’d love nothing more than for me to be the typical female I’m sure he’s used to dealing with: compliant, starstruck, fumbling over her words.
He’s got another think coming if that’s what he’s expecting.
“I don’t believe I offered to buy you one.” He leans back and angles his head, eyes assessing and daring me all at once.
“Well, I don’t believe I asked you to be an asshole either, so the drink’s on you.” The comment is off my tongue before I can think it through. We stare at each other like two caged animals circling, each trying to figure the other one out, and knowing regardless of our indifference, there is definitely a game of some sort being played between us. Good thing I know what that game is.
“Then I guess you should steer clear of me and neither of us will have to worry about me being an asshole.” He grunts the words out, and I don’t know whether I should be glad or upset about his response.
On one hand, his lack of interest could make this whole mission easier. He’ll leave me alone, let me do my thing, so long as I get my work done when he needs it. On the other hand, he’s damn attractive, and it could be extremely beneficial to use sex appeal to my advantage. Reel him in, keep him under my wing, and get my job done quicker by playing the innocent-female card.
The problem with using sex appeal, though, is that I’ve watched other female agents play theirs up, draw lines, erase them, redraw them, and in the end get hurt by becoming too emotionally invested.
All my training has warned me that there will be one person who will make me cross that line. No way. Not me. The job, the mission, the objective, all three mean way too much to cross any lines, regardless of the sexual chemistry I feel licking at my heels as I stand here and hold his stare.
I wait for the comment I can see forming on his lips to come, but just as unexpected as this conversation has been, he breaks our eye contact without saying another word and refocuses on the glass in his hand.
“So you’re the one, huh?” My thoughts turn to words before I realize what I’m saying, and disbelief robs me from saying anything else as Tanner turns to look at me again, glass stopped midway to his lips, and that way he has of staring straight into you and seeing every single thing you want to hide.
“The one?”
And without any pertinent words being exchanged or even so much as an introduction being made, I know without a doubt that Tanner Thomas is the one person who’s going to make me question crossing that damn line. Call it a gut reaction or a psychotic episode, but I have a feeling that this mission is going to be anything but the easy get in, get out, get done type that I had planned on it being.
And it will have nothing to do with the mission but rather everything to do with the attractive man before me and his inquisitive eyes.
