Dream Huntress Read online

  Excuse me, could you hand me that notepad? Dead crime victims tend to visit me in my dreams, just need to jot down a few notes.

  After escaping as efficiently as Houdini, she was quite sure Ty had already put her in the “whack-job” category. Sharing her ability to connect with the dead would no doubt earn her a one way ticket to Freakville.

  “Been there, visited that part of town, cowboy—not likely to go back,” she murmured, scribbling the date in her journal. “Not even for an ass as fine as yours.”

  Now, hours later, she was concentrating twice as hard to recall a fraction of the details. Even through the suckish aftermath, she’d always been vigilant about writing down the facts. It was important to log every visual element as soon as possible. Each minute that passed blurred the fine edge of detail that she could recount. Often, it was the smallest of those details that made all the larger ones fall together.

  She tapped a pen on her journal a couple of times, then took a few cleansing breaths and played back the vision in her mind.

  Victim—White female. Middle teens. Long dark hair. Raped. Murdered. A party, graduation likely.

  Male suspect—A ball cap? Green? Brown?

  Damn it!

  She slapped the journal shut. How frustrating to remember so little. The only positive aspect of her dreams was that they gave her information. In this case, there just wasn’t enough.

  But consistently, the dreams had been tied to whatever case she was working on at the time. It was likely the girl was local and, with enough digging, Jordan was betting on a tie to Arlo Buck.

  As much as she hated to think it, she needed more. And she could bet—there would be more.

  She’d barely logged in when someone knocked at her door. After closing her computer, she moved to the hidden gun on the bookshelf next to the door. She put one hand on the doorknob and one on the gun. “Who is it?”

  “Pizza delivery.”

  Fairly confident she recognized the voice, she cracked the door open, leaving the chain in place. “Ty, what are you doing here?”

  “Bringing you dinner if you’ll take the chain off.”

  The pizza smelled like heaven. It hadn’t occurred to Jordan that her last meal had been the day before, not until the pepperoni hypnotized her.

  After slipping the gun behind the books, she slid the chain off the door and opened it. “Wow, it smells amazing. What’s in the bag?”

  “Salad and Antonio’s world famous cheesecake.”

  He caught her off guard, and she didn’t know what to say. She liked to be prepared. This she was singularly unprepared for. Did she have enough wits to deal with him tonight? She was undercover. He needed to be checked out. The conversation wouldn’t be on her terms, but it could work.

  Stepping back, she gestured toward the kitchen. As he passed, she smelled the pizza, but the more enticing aroma followed in its wake—freshly showered male. Was it soap? Cologne? Who the hell knew? But her treacherous body inhaled deeply while his back was turned.

  He headed to the kitchen and started scrambling around as if he’d lived there all his life. “Oh, man. I forgot sodas.”

  She watched him, frankly bewildered that he’d come back. “I’ve got diet soda in the fridge.”

  “I know. I hate that stuff.” He stared into the nearly empty refrigerator. “Why do women do that? It’s so stupid.”

  She couldn’t decide whether to be insulted or amused. “Do what?”

  “Eat pizza and cheesecake, then wash it down with diet soda. I was at the burger joint in town yesterday. Some woman in front of me, honest to God, ordered a double half-pound burger with extra mayo and a giant-size fry. Then got a diet soda. I mean, come on, what’s the point?” He shut the fridge and turned to her. “Do you have paper plates? We don’t need to dirty the real ones if you do.”

  “Ah... ” She tried to remember if she’d seen any. How do I know? is what she wanted to say. She’d only been in the furnished apartment a short time. There was a coffee pot and coffee cups. Everything else was just overkill.

  “No paper plates.” She faked it. He wouldn’t know.

  “Are you sure? I thought I saw some when I was looking for coffee filters this morning.” He opened up a couple cabinets, finally swinging open the large one in the corner. Three different sizes of paper plates practically fell on top of him. There were napkins, plastic utensils, and even paper cups with lids. A virtual smorgasbord of disposable dinnerware.

  Damn. She hadn’t planned on entertaining. How was she supposed to know—or care—they were in there? She shrugged when he shot her a confused look. “The woman in the apartment before me must have left them.”

  She continued to watch him as he set the tiny two-person table. He started a pot of coffee, tossed the salad, and served them both a piece of pizza.

  “Have a seat. I’ll get us coffee in a minute,” he said.

  If the man had a shy or reluctant bone in his body, she’d yet to see it.

  He looked over to where she stood rooted to the floor. “I’m such an idiot. I haven’t even asked how you’re feeling. Are you doing okay?” He walked to her, tilted her head up, and brushed back her hair to inspect the stitches on her forehead.

  A sharp intake of air flooded her lungs. Her skin heated, and her heart thundered so loudly, she wondered if he could hear it. “Yeah, I’m much better.”

  “I had an appointment I couldn’t get out of.” His eyes drifted to her chest before he blinked them back up to her face. “I hated to leave you, but...”

  “It’s okay. You’re not my keeper.” Glancing down to where his gaze had landed, she realized her old tank top was quite thin. She no longer needed to worry if he could hear her heart pound. Her erect nipples took the embarrassment over how her body reacted to his touch to a whole new level. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna grab a sweatshirt.”

  By the time she came out of the bedroom, he’d poured coffee.

  He pulled out a chair for her. “Have a seat.”

  She nodded. It was time to start the business end of the dinner. “I’m beginning to wonder about you.”

  He lifted a brow. “Why is that?”

  “I figured after what I put you through last night, you wouldn’t be back. And here you are, with dinner no less.”

  “Technically, I’m still on duty until about midnight.”

  Confused, she narrowed her eyes.

  “My twenty-four-hour watch over you still has six hours to go. I noticed you only had two apples and a half-eaten yogurt in the fridge. Thought maybe you wouldn’t be up to getting dinner, so here I am. I wasn’t going to let you starve on my shift.”

  “I wouldn’t have starved.” She rolled her eyes defensively. “I have chips in the cabinet too.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d probably be hard-pressed to find them,” he said. “I’m beginning to think you don’t have a clue about what’s in those cabinets.” He waved an extra paper plate at her.

  Ignoring his comment and the way his eyes sparkled when he teased her, she picked up the pizza and bit into it. “Oh, God, this is good. I think I may be in love.”

  He grinned at her low, appreciative groan. “I try.”

  She laughed. “Not with you, with Antonio.”

  He clutched his chest. “May I remind you that if it weren’t for me, you’d be eating old, crusty yogurt tonight?”

  “And I might have bled to death on Buck’s picnic table,” she added with a smile.

  “You’re right. So you best start stroking my ego better, or I’m taking my world-famous cheesecake and leaving.”

  Propping her head on a fist, she watched him eat. He was impossibly gorgeous and very sweet. She desperately wanted to scratch him off the list of suspects. “So, why’d you give up being a cop? I’d think that would be a pretty good living around here.”

  No mistake, the glittering shine in his eyes turned a shade darker. He dropped his crust onto his plate and proceeded to serve them both another piece of pizza.
“It’s a small town. When bad blood starts flowing in a police department as small as Longdale’s, there aren’t a lot of ways to diffuse it. You live with it or quit. I quit.”

  “What caused the bad blood?”

  He paused. “A disagreement.”

  She kept her eyes fixed on him and hoped he’d succumb to the silent invitation for more information.

  “About a promotion,” he finally admitted. “One that I should have had, but the police chief’s nephew got. It’s all about who you’re related to in this town.”

  “So instead of trying to move to another department like Titus or Cooper, you just quit?” His actions didn’t make sense. Someone would take her badge when they pried it out of her cold, dead hands.

  “You went through training, got your badge, worked for eight or nine years, and then just walked away?” She’d spent a great many years reading people, and she already knew a few things about Ty. He loved playing protector, had been doing it since she’d met him, which made the fact that he’d turned in his badge over a missed promotion unlikely.

  “You ask a lot of questions for someone who’s more attracted to the guy who made the pizza than me.”

  “Sorry, occupational hazard.”

  “For a business degree?” His head tilted as he stared at her. He appeared to be mentally weighing her words. “Do they make you interrogate people to get your business degree?”

  Stalling, she stuffed another bite of pizza in her mouth. It had sounded more like an interrogation than a friendly conversation over dinner. “Cocktail waitress,” she said around the pizza. “The more you talk, the more interested you are in people’s lives, the better the tips. I ask a lot of questions, chat a lot. It seems to be an asset at Buck’s.”

  He scowled, instantly annoyed. “Good ol’ Buck’s.”

  She watched him crumple a napkin and tap his fingers on the tabletop. “When do you think you’ll go back to work?”

  “Today was my day off, so not until tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. “You really think you’re up to carrying trays and fighting off idiots like Lewis?”

  The agitation in his voice escalated. Even if he turned out to be one of the cops—or ex-cop, in his case—protecting Buck, the toxic atmosphere inside the club seemed to drive him nuts.

  “I’m fine. I can’t afford to be off anyway. Are you done?” she asked.

  When he nodded, she picked up their plates and threw them away.

  “What if I could get you a job at Antonio’s? His family has been good friends with mine for years. It’s a really nice place.” He tossed the leftover pizza on the kitchen counter and grabbed the dessert bag. “And now you know their food is awesome.”

  So dinner had been a well-planned move to get her to quit Buck’s. She had to give him points for strategy and persistence. “Look, Ty, I know you don’t like Buck’s, but do you have any idea how much money I can make there in one evening? I start at four, and it’s pretty steady until about nine, and then it just completely opens up. On the weekends, I can walk away with a couple hundred dollars a night.”

  “Yeah, but the place is a hole, and you know better than anyone it can be dangerous.”

  “Only if I turn my back on Lewis.” She knew her lack of concern about the danger prickled under his skin. “Cheesecake now or later?”

  She turned to look at him when he didn’t answer and got the distinct impression he had more to say on the subject of her employment, but had apparently decided to drop it.

  He moved the bakery box to the table, opened it, and served up the dessert. “Come here, you’ve got to try this.”

  Guiding her into a chair, he pulled another one intimately close and sat. He scooped up a bite of cheesecake and fed it to her. “Tell me that’s not the best thing you’ve ever had in your mouth.”

  With her eyes closed and the slightest taste of heaven on her tongue, “hmm” was all she could manage. And not in a sweet agreeable way, but in a low moan of delight.

  “I told you so.” He chuckled and fed her another bite.

  After she swallowed she said, “My mom made the best cheesecake. Thanksgiving meant pumpkin pie to everyone else, but my sister and I would beg for Mom’s cheesecake. God, it was good. I remember helping her make it. We’d try to shape the whipped cream on top into a pumpkin, in the spirit of pumpkin pie, you know. But we were artistically challenged.” She smiled. “Most years we just ended up with an odd-looking smiley face. This is truly the best thing I’ve had since...”

  ...her family’s last Thanksgiving together.

  Words turned to ashes on her tongue. Stunned, she glanced at Ty. The hot sting in her eyes jolted her. Had she really just talked about her mom and sister? She never mentioned them. Not to anyone. Not ever. Images of their last morning together ignited and spread through her like a brush fire.

  Ty dropped the fork and picked up her hand, enveloped it in his large, warm grip. The icy claws of the flashback thawed when his fingers touched her skin.

  “You’re shaking.” His brows drew together. “I’m sorry, Jordan. I didn’t know. I mean, I never would have...”

  “Don’t be stupid, it’s fine.” She pushed the words out, scrambling to shift into auto-pilot. God, she hated that her past could still grab hold of her like this. “The cheesecake is amazing.”

  He moved a hand to her face, turned her head toward him. “I never meant to bring back bad memories or hurt you. I’m sorry.” He leaned in and touched his lips to the spot where a tear had streaked down her cheek.

  The simple gesture, hauntingly intimate, undid her. Fighting the burn in her throat, she averted her face. She wanted to die. This man had been screwing with her emotions since the first moment she laid eyes on him. Why couldn’t he have let it go, pretended she hadn’t just made a fool of herself, the way any other man would have done?

  “My mom and sister aren’t bad memories; it’s just hard sometimes.” She forced the words through the tight pressure in her lungs. “I overreacted. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

  Framing her face in his hands, he tilted her head up, forcing their gazes to meet. “Don’t do that,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend that it doesn’t hurt. I know what losing someone you love feels like.”

  She looked into his eyes, couldn’t quite bring herself to look away. He did know. Somehow—he did know. Pain. Anger. Embarrassment. Raw emotions hung in the air like a dense fog, thick enough to suffocate in.

  His lips brushed her forehead, then shifted and settled lightly against her mouth. The gentle, intimate connection stole her breath. Shaken by the fierce longing in her body, she moaned.

  At the soft sound, his grip tightened. His lips grew more demanding. One of his hands dipped to the small of her back, the other tangled in her hair. His tongue edged into her mouth and stroked hers.

  Confused, captivated, completely off balance—she was overwhelmed by sensations. There were good, solid reasons to stop, but this kiss was the nirvana she’d sought for twenty years, spurring a deep pull in her core that curbed the heartache and left behind something much more pleasurable in its wake.

  Common sense waged a small battle. She needed to think. Needed to breathe. Needed to stop.

  Just like everyone else—he’d already be gone if he knew your secrets.

  Determined to step back, she lifted her hands to his face to push him away, but he turned his head and captured one of her fingers between his lips and sucked. The yearning flared hot and deep this time driving a sharp breath into her lungs.

  Again, her thoughts spun. The desire to be taken, to be greedy and satisfy a need she’d denied for a long, long time exploded from whatever compartment she believed it safely locked in. A wicked tremble racked her body, desire begged for her to open up just long enough to grab a screaming release. But her world hinged on remaining closed.

  His mouth captured hers again with long, languid strokes of his tongue mixed with short, ravaging licks. The hand he had splayed o
n her back slipped under her sweatshirt to stroke flesh. Panic filled her when his quick fingers slid to the front of her body, skimmed up her torso, and gently cupped her breast. But the alarm gave way as his fingers closed around her nipple, teased and taunted. An uncontrolled groan of pleasure rose from her throat.

  It had gone too far. She had to stop. “Ty... We need...I should—”

  “Take the damned shirt off, and come here? Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

  He yanked both shirts over her head and tugged her toward him.

  In a moment of complete insanity, she straddled him. None of the material left between them could hide the erection pressing against her.

  Ty groaned long and deep when she settled on his lap. He splayed his hands on her bare back. “Damn,” he whispered while taking in her breasts. “There’s just no part of you that isn’t gorgeous.” He leaned in and ravaged the tip of her breast with his lips.

  This time, when she grabbed his face, there wasn’t a chance in hell it was to push him away. His tongue flicked, caressed, expertly drew from her nipple in a way that seared a heated path straight to her core. Her response was basic and all woman. The cop fell to the wayside.

  Need won.

  Dampness flowed from her body. She peeled off his shirt and let her hands explore and discover. Her fingertips traced the hard planes of his chest, sliding over smooth skin and a dusting of hair that covered firm muscle underneath. Quite simply, Ty was beautiful.

  The next thought brought terror. Sheer blistering terror.

  She wanted him.

  And not in a way she could ever remember wanting any man before. She needed his hands on her and her clothes off. Needed to feel him, his body, his weight—not just his lips and chest, but every part of him driving inside her.

  Pulling back, she sat dazed.

  “Let me take the edge off, baby.” He drew her closer, whispered in her ear. “Please.”

  Taking advantage of her silence, he smoothed his fingers across the skin low on her stomach, brushed them inside the waistband of her shorts. Fingering the rhinestone on her navel, he said, “What do you like, Jordan?”