The Naughty List Bundle with The Night Before Christmas & Yule Be Mine. Fern Michaels
but careless. “You tore into my life, so—”
“So you thought it was only fair to tear into mine.” He spun away and yanked on his jeans. “Dammit, I did that to protect you! Your father and brother asked for my help! I’d just started working as a cop, we were all worried—”
“I know.” But back then, she’d only been angry. Hurt. Humiliated. The family had bought off her lover. They hadn’t tried to talk to her, they’d just tried to run her life.
Not anymore.
“How?”
She blinked. “It wasn’t hard, Jonas.” Everything was public record. “I knew you’d been born in Athens, Georgia. I just searched through some of the newspapers online and tried to find a reference to you.”
“Because you wanted some payback?”
Because she’d wanted to know him. “I saw a clipping about their deaths. A picture of you at the funeral.”
He stopped pacing near the foot of her bed. “All this time, you’ve known?”
She gave a quick nod.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
I didn’t know what to say. Sorry just didn’t seem to cover the situation. “Why didn’t you?” she asked instead, her voice soft.
The laugh that came from him held no humor. “We already covered that you and I didn’t talk much.” He strode closer to her. “You knew and you still came to me?”
She didn’t understand.
His hand lifted, as if he were going to touch her cheek. But his fingers fisted and fell away. “I knew I shouldn’t have touched you.”
Now that was bull. “You’re the man who should have touched me.” Long ago. It was late and the words were weak, but she continued, “I-I’m sorry about your parents. That must have been terrible for you. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like—”
His head snapped up. He stared at her with glittering eyes and a clenched jaw. The angry mask was back in full effect.
Her chin notched up, too. She clutched the sheet, tucked it under her arms, climbed out of the bed, and grabbed him. “I know I don’t understand how it felt, okay? But I am sorry you had to go through that. No one should ever see—”
“The bloody bodies of their parents?” His lips twisted. “I see bodies every day. It’s my job.”
“That wasn’t your job.”
“That’s why I do my job. That’s why I became a cop.”
Yes, she’d thought as much. The newspaper report had said…
“He was on drugs, Christie. My old man was so strung out he barely recognized his own family. My mom had kicked him out. She was trying to get a better life for us.”
A life that ended too soon. That fist was back, squeezing her heart too tightly. She didn’t let Jonas go. Christie kept her hands on him, her eyes on his.
“He broke in. By the looks of the place, I know he came looking for money. He trashed everything. My mom—she must have been trying to stop him when he—he—” His lips snapped closed. But she knew what came next.
Sixteen. He’d been through so much, so young.
“The cops told me it looked like he tried to help her. He even managed to make a 9-1-1 call. Hell, maybe the asshole finally realized what the hell he’d done. He called the ambulance for her, and then he killed himself. One shotgun blast to the head.”
But Jonas had arrived before the ambulance. He’d been the one to find the bodies.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and let the sheet drop. She held him as tight as she could. Her lips pressed against his neck.
“You should be telling me to get the hell out now.” His arms weren’t around her. His body was held stiffly, too tense and hard. “My dad was an addict who killed my mom. You know what kind of bloodline I’ve got, you don’t need to be—”
“Shut up, Jonas.” Now he was pissing her off. “You’re not your dad.” She lifted her head. “You’re a good man, a good cop. You just got a real crap hand dealt to you.”
His eyes widened a bit.
“Now get back in bed,” she ordered him, hoping her voice sounded tough and strong. Hoping he didn’t notice that her hands were shaking a bit. The new Christie she was trying to be—the wild girl who went after what she wanted—well, she wouldn’t let her man walk away. Not after the hell he’d had today. She wouldn’t wilt under that hot green stare. Wouldn’t flinch from the pain in his past. No, the new Christie would be tougher than that.
Jonas slowly climbed back into bed with her. Her breath eased out when his head touched the pillow. Good.
She hit the lights and plunged them back into darkness because she could only keep the veil of that new Christie up for so long.
Jonas’s arms came around her, pulling her against his body. A warm, strong body. A strong lover. One who was hers, for a brief time.
No commitments. It was just supposed to be about sex, right? And just sex meant no emotions.
So why the hell was she blinking away tears again and hoping that none of the drops fell onto his arms?
The cops told me it looked like he tried to help her.
The new Christie might be bluffing her way through the game, but underneath that fake cover, she was the same woman. A woman who cared too much. A woman who had one very big weakness.
A weakness who was holding her in his arms, close to his heart.
5
He was in trouble. Jonas stared at the small green box in his hand and wondered how the hell something as simple as no-strings sex could become so complicated.
Ah, but then, the answer was simple. Christie was involved—and the woman tended to complicate everything.
“Hey, man, you shouldn’t have!” A pale hand snatched the present out of Jonas’s grasp. He shot to attention—too late—and saw his partner, Scotty McKenzie, clutching the present. “I didn’t get nothin’ for you!” Scotty declared, his voice too loud.
Jonas shook his head. “Trust me, man, that’s not your size.”
Scotty blinked, then laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that sounded like a train engine. “Then I’m guessing it belongs to the lady you were so hot to see last night. The one who had you smelling like a damn strawberry patch when you came to the crime scene.”
Yeah, her smell had been on him, and he’d liked it. It had helped to combat the stench of death all over the place.
“Didn’t even know you had a lady.” Scotty threw his body in the wobbly desk chair. “I mean, not one that you stayed with longer than a weekend.” He tossed the box back to Jonas.
Jonas caught it in one hand. He’d already stayed the weekend with Christie. And, at first, he’d done just what he promised. One hell of a good time.
The last thing he’d expected was to get a call about a scene like that, with her there.
He put the box on the desk top and ran a hand over his eyes. When he’d gone back to her place, his control had been shot. Rage had ridden him, the fury that he’d held close for so many years.
He’d been desperate to get back to Christie. He’d known she’d help him banish the past and forget the blood. He’d also known he was walking a real thin line, but he’d gone back anyway.
Call him a damn moth to the flame.
He’d been on her too fast, too hard. The sex had been rough and