Caught (6 page)

His face was so virile, Cody would make the perfect Armani model. And with that killer tie, a solid, satiny, crimson one that brought out his tan, he could be on TV right now.

Oblivious to her thoughts, he walked to the bookshelf that used to contain the world's largest collection of family photographs, and she wondered if Cody remembered the sounds of his mother's cooking.

Megan did. The clang of the baking pans, the
click click click
of the oven timer. It could've been yesterday that she was here, playing Life with Cody and Ivan and even Mr. Nordstrom, while the Mrs. pulled out homemade Margarita pizza from the oven. Ivan hadn't seemed happy here, nor had Mr. and Mrs. Nordstrom ever been proud of Ivan the way they had, clearly, been of Cody.

“Where would you hide, if you were him?” she asked as she watched him, loving the way his muscles bulged as he reached out and wiped the dust off the empty shelves.

His head came up, and the corners of his lips formed a barely-there smile. “Here.”

“Here?” she asked, shocked. “Really?” In this decrepit, smelly old house?
Well, maybe he remembers the Life days, too.

“Yep. I'd hide right here.” He banged the wall with his fist. “Under everyone's very own noses.”

She made a face and crossed her arms. “We could say Ivan's got that pegged, too, you know. He
was
hiding in your home just hours ago, and something about the way he hesitated before approaching me made me think he hadn't planned on me being there.”

Cody's expression darkened; his entire face tightening with anger. “And then he saw you in your…”

“My purchases, why, yes!”

The nonchalance she tried injecting into her admission seemed to pass by him unnoticed, for Cody stared at her for a long, tense moment, his blue gaze dark and shuttered and so personal she felt the muscles of her legs turn buttery. He walked over to her, moving slow and sure, like a panther. His voice dropped a decibel.

“What where you doing there?”

The gruffly spoken question stroked her insides more than any seductive whisper.

His manly stance, his hot, possessive gaze, ignited her need and hunger until her throat hurt with the need to tell him how he made her feel.

Those beautiful blue eyes he stared at her with now had seen the same thing that haunted her nightmares. Those beautiful blue eyes were exactly like the killer's, except she liked to think that she knew their small differences.

Cody's lashes were longer, the tips blonder, and the way he used those eyes—to control, to intimidate, even to seduce—was a power his twin had never mastered.

Those eyes made her want to
melt.

Now those eyes demanded she answer, but her pride would not allow her to admit the truth out loud.

“I already told you.”

Unsettled by his stare, she pivoted around and headed to the small study, crossing all the way to the back of the room, determined to pretend to be engrossed in the sight of her old home from the arched window. She was sure that a man like Cody—a cynic by nature and a detective by trade—did not buy her tale in the least.

But then again, maybe he did. Because he wanted to.

For years, Cody Nordstrom had been chasing killers.

His focus generally was aimed toward evil motivations, revenge and jealousy, the kind that inspired people to kill. He was not focused on the good emotions so much, like how and why someone sought out happiness and comfort. She was sure that if he had any inkling of how she felt for him, he would stop tormenting her and either buy a one-way ticket to Mars, or buy a roundtrip for two for their honeymoon. And yet, evidence pointed to the fact that he couldn't see, didn't realize that Megan wanted him … beyond bearing.

“You know,” she began tentatively, “I think Ivan was trying on your suits while hiding in your closet. That's why the closet door burst open; there was some movement going on inside.”

Cody didn't seem surprised, but he also seemed preoccupied.

Wondering what he wasn't telling her, Megan went fishing for information. “You'd make lieutenant if you weren't so blind to what's right before you sometimes. I bet you hadn't noticed he messed with your closet, huh?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Trust me, I noticed.”

She could tell by his amused tone that he knew he was being baited, and that he didn't plan to fall any further than that.

Plus being that he was surveying the place like a hellhound, she suddenly felt a little stupid for telling him he was missing a point, because he was definitely being very thorough. But then hadn't Paige said she needed to do something because he never would?

Yes, she had. So Megan let her top slip from one of her shoulders, low enough so that when she baited him a little more and he finally glanced at her, he would notice that her bra was falling off one shoulder as well as her shirt, and he would see the top of the creamy globe. “So you never miss a thing, Nordstrom? Ever?”

He straightened and stiffened when he saw, then seemed to have trouble finding the right words to say: “Meg, can't help but notice.… your shirt's falling off.”

She met his glimmering blue gaze head on, and just smiled at him, not bothering to fix it, issuing him a silent dare …

*   *   *

Okay, maybe he'd failed to say it loud enough. Heck, maybe, he was so wired-up he'd only
thought
it.

“Your shirt's falling off,” Cody repeated.

His voice faltered, so he cleared his throat and then, when Megan remained motionless, leaning against the wall and looking like a lovely pinup girl, he pointed a shaky hand down at her … beautiful, almost exposed, perfectly shaped wet-dream of a boob.

“Your shirt—Meg.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Megan looked down at that perfect half-exposed breast, then innocently up at him, her eyes so green he could get lost in them, like in a rainforest. His hands itched at his sides. His whole body itched under his suit. He wanted to tear off his tie and curl it around her rump and use it to pull her up against him.

He could imagine her …
Wanna take her upstairs, in my old room, my old bed, where I thought of her so many times
 … No, dammit! He'd come here to think, but instead she was driving him crazy, and this was not the time to indulge in teen fantasies. He'd stopped being a teen at sixteen, when his parents had been murdered.

In this very house!

He gritted his teeth and pointed once again at her cotton top draped over that creamy shoulder almost all the way down to what he was sure would be the pinkest, perkiest little nipple he'd ever seen.

His eyes fastened to it, and suddenly he knew he would not be able to pull his gaze free if she didn't pull that damned top in place.

But Megan did nothing to fix the problem, to remove the temptation.

Instead, she made a slight sound, like a sigh, leaned back, further back against the wall, and aroused the fucking daylights out of him when she closed her eyes and pushed her breasts out like she was taking the sun outside.

“I could really use some coffee later,” she murmured sleepily, her eyes still closed. “Mind if I wait here while you do your thinking?”

Like hell. Like he could think about anything with her here, almost naked.

He wanted to pounce on her. He wanted to warn her to run, but then that would only make him want to chase her. And what would he do when he caught her?
Fuck I'm going to lick her calves like an ice cream cone … suckle her breasts till there's no tomorrow … taste her honey and suck every last drop …

He wanted the killer, yes, his no-good sadistic brother, but right now all he really wanted was to take little Megan Banks in his arms and … God, his cock was about to explode.

She pushed from the wall with a soft smile and moved toward him, enough for his nostrils to flare in his need to inhale all of her. The air became oxygenless; heavy with need, charged with longing. The breeze outside moaned, as though the rasping against trees were erotic. Her incoming scent continued to draw him in, make him think of his childhood, and strangely, of his kids, how they would be if he ever had a couple. A daughter with her eyes, her hair.

Megan wrapping her legs around me … pulling me closer …

His breathing accelerated as he tried to maintain control, stay in place, but her eyes were shining with welcome, and holy God, were those hard little points her nipples against her top? She licked her lips. “So,” she said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

He took a step. Bad idea, Cody, stop stop stop. He couldn't help himself and reached up, stroked her lips with his thumb. His hand trembled; she shuddered at first touch.

Ecstasy swarmed him when she closed her eyes, a bubbling sensation in his veins as he allowed himself the luxury of stroking that mouth, driving himself way too hot just watching the way her breath changed. “So,” he rasped back.

She held her breath, but when she opened her eyes, there wasn't desire there, but fear. “Someone's watching us.”

Silence reigned. A knife of possessiveness sliced through him, and he pulled her close, hugging her while he assessed his surroundings, whispering in her ear, “Don't move.”

Her body felt perfect against his, perfectly female, and just to give the monster a little of what he had for his entire existence begged for, he cupped her ass to distract whoever was watching them, keep them from noticing his other hand, reaching into his jacket. As he felt the grip at the tip of his fingers, he continued to savor the shape and pulled her tight against his aching groin.

“It's him, isn't it,” she whispered, pulling her top over her shoulder and smashing herself against him, her voice scared. “He's here.”

The prickle at the back of his neck didn't lie.

“Yeah.” Almost there; he curled his fist around his gun. “Give me one more second.”

Had they not felt a presence, he could've kissed her and urged her to tell him that she wanted it, his cock, against her,
inside her
, but when she squirmed restlessly closer against him, he knew she did, and he knew he couldn't do shit about it, never would, and it drove him to the edge.

He groaned, keeping her pinned against his body as he turned, and called out, with his gun firmly in his grip. “Ivan, I need to talk to you.”

It was his twin, it had to be. The only damned bastard that had ever crept so easily past Cody's radar.
Megan shouldn't be here, dammit.

A noise came from up above, and when a book landed
splat!
three inches to her right, Megan jumped in alarm.

Cody curled an arm around her waist, bending over so that only she could make out his whisper. “You're all right, you're with me.”

She nodded fast enough to get dizzy. “What does he want?” she squeaked.

“I don't know, but I sure as hell would like to find out. Let's talk to him for a bit, hmm?” He raised his head to scan the room, sure that Ivan was somewhere up in the rafters. “Ivan, if it's you, come out here and talk to us.”

A voice broke through the space as if spoken through a microphone. “Last time you talked to me you tossed my ass in jail,
brother.
”

Cody almost stumbled back when his brother's baritone struck him. Holy fuck, genetics were amazing. Cody could've been doing the talking, their voices were identical. And then it barreled into him: and he knew exactly how this bastard would have managed to escape prison.

Get his hands on a badge and a suit and—whoa, a crimson tie—and he'd look just like Cody.

Heart pounding at the possibility of Ivan being smarter than he remembered, Cody searched for him up in the wood beams and the second level library, but failed to find him. He'd be climbing up there by now, he'd already have the bastard by the throat, if not for the scared little kitten currently holding on to his arm.

“I'm on vacation this week,” he told his brother, as easily as though he were speaking to Zach in an attempt to inspire his confidence. “So what do you say we lunch together and talk? Noon? Meet me at Marcel's Bistro in the Western Plaza.” He needed answers, and more than that, he needed that bastard back where he belonged.
Serving a life term.

The silence gave him hope, so he yanked out his business card, set it over the tome on the floor—
Moby-Dick
—and guided Megan out of there, calling behind his shoulder, “I'll see you there.”

Ivan wouldn't follow.

Not yet.

The bastard wanted something, and Cody was pretty sure that she was currently walking in his arms.

*   *   *

Megan turned out to be quite the stubborn little package.

She didn't want to sleep at her house, and she refused to stay at the Rivers place if Cody wasn't, and after Ivan had picked his locks, Cody couldn't very well take her to his home, either. Plus, considering the fact that he only had one bed and the thought of Megan Banks's juicy derriere sleeping in it drove Cody's libido out of whack, his place was definitely out of the picture.

So he ended up setting them up for the night at the Candelabra, a small, boutique hotel that was close enough to the Western Plaza shopping center to make his meeting with Ivan on time tomorrow.

Since keeping things businesslike was the way to go, he got two connecting rooms with king-size beds, shared an early dinner downstairs with her, and once they went upstairs, threw himself into his research.

At least, that was his plan.

Megan seemed to have another idea.

While Cody surveyed all the paperwork he'd brought, she padded out from her room and curled up next to him on the couch, cuddling against his chest.

Within minutes she fell asleep, the soft sounds of her breathing audible in the silence, while Cody did his damnedest to concentrate and review everything he'd written about his brother on his first capture. Where he'd caught him last. Where he'd been seen before.