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  “Comfortable?” he asked, amused at her silent bossiness.

  “Very,” Reagan replied. Her fingertips drew patterns on the inside of his wrists. “You were supposed to go last night. Cuddling like this is so against the FWB—friends with benefits—rules.”

  “Fuck the rules,” Axl muttered in her ear. “I’m not moving.”

  “It’s nice. Your arms around me, just sitting here,” Reagan said, staring out to the darkness beyond. She waited a while before speaking again. “What were you thinking about, earlier? You looked grim. The kidnapping in Brazil?”

  In a way, thinking about Juliana would be easier. He’d done his best for her, so had his team, and there was nothing more that they could do and he had to move on. “Actually I was thinking about my parents and their latest bee in the bonnet.”

  “Them wanting to adopt a new kid?”

  “Yeah. Idiots.”

  Reagan moved her head so that her lips touched the bare skin on his arm, and after kissing him once, she left her lips against his skin. It wasn’t a sexual gesture but it sent warmth, hot and heady, pulsing through his veins. For the first time in a very long time he felt connected, not quite so alone.

  Axl sighed and rested his head against the wall. “I’m going to have to find a way to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

  “How?”

  He wished he knew. “Not sure yet. And my wanting them not to adopt doesn’t have anything to do with money and me not wanting to support the kid.”

  “Of course it doesn’t, money has never been the issue with you. You’re just worried about giving your parents another child to screw up.”

  God, she got him. Mike was the last person who understood him so easily and on such a fundamental level. Axl tightened his arms around Reagan in a silent gesture of gratitude for her understanding. He’d said that he wanted to be her friend, her best friend, but she was rapidly becoming his.

  “Have you spoken to your dad lately?”

  “I haven’t called him for a couple of months and he couldn’t be bothered to call me, or email me, or check up on me, so we haven’t connected for a while.”

  Shit, really? What was so difficult about having a relationship with Reagan? She was smart, funny, and had a heart as big as the sun. If he ever had a daughter as perfect as her he’d be on his knees every day giving thanks. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

  “It’s okay, I don’t need him, Axe.”

  He heard her unsaid words, tacked on to the end of that sentence. I don’t need anyone. On the surface Reagan seemed so sure of herself, what she wanted, where she was going, but underneath her tough-girl act she was pure marshmallow and all sexy. Speaking of sexy . . . Axl lifted his hand up to cup her breast when his attention was caught by a tall figure turning the corner and jogging toward the house. Axl frowned, wondering why Sawyer was in the neighborhood. This house wasn’t on his normal jogging route.

  “What’s Sawyer doing here?” Reagan asked.

  “Stay still,” Axl muttered, tightening his grip around her. Somehow he knew that if Sawyer looked up and saw them sitting in the window, he’d bolt. And he really wanted to know what Sawyer was up to. How else could he rag him?

  Sawyer disappeared from sight as he walked up to the front door, and Axl strained his ears and caught the sound of the front door opening and closing. Well, shit, Sherlock. He’d locked the front door before they came upstairs and, thanks to many nights spent in shitty situations, he was an exceptionally light sleeper and he would’ve known if Pippa had gone downstairs. Axl listened for the sound of Sawyer’s feet on the stairs but Sawyer made no noise. But he could feel the air charging, the disturbance of energy that told him that he was inside the house, outside their door. Axl waited for and heard the quiet snick that told him that Sawyer had entered Pippa’s room. Silence settled back over the house and Axl grinned.

  Well, huh. Pippa and Sawyer? How long had that been going on and why did none of them know about it?

  Reagan pulled her head back and bent her neck so that she could send him a what-the-hell look.

  He grinned and whispered. “So that’s new.”

  “Or very old,” Reagan whispered back. “Flick normally leaves around four for the bakery, so his visit is very well timed.”

  Reagan lay back against his arm, the T-shirt pulled tight against her pretty breasts, her bare legs soft and smooth and waiting to be explored. “God, you’re so gorgeous.”

  Reagan’s eyes smoked over and she touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth, silently telling him that she liked the compliment. Her hand on his chest informed him that she didn’t think he was half bad either. Axl pushed her hair off her face, and his hand held the side of her face. God, he didn’t want to fall for this woman, he couldn’t risk doing that. He didn’t need another responsibility in his life, didn’t need to worry about anyone else.

  You do that anyway . . .

  Yeah, but if he fell in love with her, then those instincts would go into overdrive. Her happiness, in life, work, and love, would become his mission and he’d kill himself to hold on to her.

  But Reagan didn’t need anything from him. Not his protection or his help or his money. So there was no point in thinking about where this relationship could go, about the future, about happy-ever-afters.

  They didn’t exist; everything in life was conditional, including love. His parents had broken his heart over and over as a kid, and he’d learned that he’d never be loved for what he was but for what he did.

  But sometimes, when she looked at him like she was doing at the moment, he thought that there was something below the surface, something he was missing, something that was ever so slightly out of his reach. Tenderness, comfort . . . It might be friendship, he thought. A need to trust someone, just for a moment, and even if she was only trusting him with her body, to give her pleasure, it was something.

  If that was all she could give him, then he’d take it.

  Reagan arched her back when he placed his hand on her breast, his thumb sliding across her nipple. “I love the way you touch me,” she murmured. “Like I am, just for this brief moment, your moon and stars and all your sunrises and sunsets.”

  “You are,” he said, meaning every word. “Right now, you are.”

  Forever wasn’t possible, Axl thought, but he had this early morning to love her, to hold her, to give her the only thing she seemed to want from him, his touch.

  It would be enough. It had to be enough.

  Chapter Ten

  AbbyM: To the idiot revving his bike early this morning, may the fleas of a thousand camels call your crotch home.

  WaynesBikes: Wasn’t me.

  MissGreenwood: It’s the Cas partner sleeping with the blonde girl who has moved in with Pippa.

  TessG: Flick, are you ever going to get Rufus neutered? I caught him humping the pole of my postbox this morning.

  “Be safe.”

  Axl placed his hands on both sides of her face and bent his legs so that he looked straight into her eyes. Reagan held his wrists and wondered why his eyes looked anxious, why his sexy mouth was tight with tension.

  Reagan ran her thumb across the frown pulling his eyebrows together. “It’s just going to be another normal, boring day, Axe. I promise. Oh, and Knox asked me whether you’ve made any progress on the thumb drive files.”

  “I’m still working on recovering the corrupted data. It’s not looking good. I have one more trick up my sleeve and if that doesn’t work then we’re up shit creek.”

  Reagan wrinkled her nose. “And we still are no closer to finding who is after Knox, who torched his trailer.”

  Axl placed his arm around her shoulder as she walked him to his matte-black Ducati, parked to the side of Pippa’s house. Reagan grinned. Yeah, everyone in Mercy knew that they were together, that they were having a hot and heated affair. They’d bee
n mentioned, frequently, on the Mercy OnLine forum, and that had to make it official.

  “Progress or not, you can’t be distracted, Reags.”

  Reagan shoved her hand into the back pocket of his jeans, feeling his tight bum through the fabric. Oooh, yum . . .

  Axl pulled her hand out and turned to face her, shaking his head as he dropped his sunglasses over his eyes. “I’m trying to be serious, here, Reags.”

  Ohhhh-kay. Reagan folded her arms and tipped her head. He really did look tense. “Okay, being serious. What’s bugging you?”

  “Bad, bad feeling,” Axl muttered, looking embarrassed. He placed his fist in his sternum. “I feel like something is sitting on my chest.”

  Reagan rocked on her heels, squinting in the early-morning sunlight. “Mike told me that you sometimes feel anxious, that you get these intense feelings. That your intuition saved a shitload of lives.”

  “Didn’t save his,” Axl muttered, staring at the ground, every muscle in his body tense.

  There was something deep here, Reagan realized, something that he needed to say, to expel. Reagan thought for a minute and the thought, barreling in from left field, planted itself in her brain. Oh, God, no. He couldn’t, not really. “Axe, you can’t possibly blame yourself for Mike’s death, do you?”

  Axl shrugged. “Why not? The one time I needed this stupid intuition, the most important time, it deserted me.”

  “You are not responsible for what happened to Mike.”

  “I didn’t feel anything, Reagan, not a damn thing!”

  “Maybe you weren’t meant to, Axe. Maybe it was just Mike’s time to go and there was nothing you could do to prevent it. I don’t blame you, Sawyer and Kai don’t blame you, so why do you blame yourself?”

  Axl bit his bottom lip. Reagan wanted to pull his glasses off so that she could see his eyes but she didn’t dare. “I’m so sorry, Reags.” he said, his voice quiet and so, so sad.

  Pity or sympathy wouldn’t help him, Reagan realized, he’d just brush her words off. No, Axl needed something else. She wanted to cuddle him but she knew that wouldn’t help. No, she needed to be strong, to order him out of his funk.

  “Well, stop it, right now!” Reagan snapped the words out. Axl’s head shot up and she saw his annoyance in his thin mouth, in the way he raked his hand through his hair. “You are not responsible, so stop with the self-blame. Enough already.”

  Reagan held her breath, not knowing how Axl would respond. When his mouth twitched she relaxed. “Tough girl speaks,” Axl said.

  “Damn straight.”

  “I’ll think about what you said.” She could see his reluctance, his embarrassment.

  “You do that,” she briskly replied before looking at her watch. Damn, she was late, but Axl and his guilt were too important to brush off. She touched her fingers to his cheek, her eyes soft and concerned. “Please don’t think that, Axe, I can’t bear it.”

  Axl rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the ground. Then he nodded, looked at his bike and then back at her. “Still, be careful today, okay?”

  “I’ll be as vigilant as ever, I promise.” Reagan nodded. “Always. See you later?”

  Axl dropped a quick, hard kiss on her mouth before stepping away. He tapped her nose and nodded. “Be safe.”

  Reagan watched as he swung his long leg over the seat of the Ducati. He started the bike, and the roar of the engine shattered the peaceful morning air. Oh, yeah, that was so not going to go down well with the neighbors. Reagan watched Axl ride away, and when he turned the corner and disappeared from sight, she experienced a full-body shiver.

  Wow, that felt like a couple of ghosts tap-dancing on her grave.

  ***

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  Reagan stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch and looked at Coe, who was standing on the top step, looking down at her with his mother’s startling blue eyes. As per usual Mr. Brown was tucked under his arm, and he wore jeans, sneakers, and a hooded sweatshirt. Reagan smiled at his James Dean broodiness. Give the kid twenty years and he’d be breaking hearts all over the world.

  Reagan heard the scrabble of paws to the right of her, and Rufus lumbered to his feet and walked so that he was next to Coe, his long tongue licking Coe’s cheek as he plopped down next to Knox’s kid. Reagan frowned when she realized that the top of Rufus’s head was wet. She really hoped that Coe hadn’t been involved in a lick fest.

  Coe brushed the slobber off his face with the back of his hand. “Flick is inside, she’s delivering some of her cooked food. But that woman won’t leave.”

  Oh, boy. So Coe didn’t like Marina Black, who’d arrived yesterday in a limo and a cloud of her signature perfume. Reagan didn’t blame Coe. Since Marina thought that being Knox’s bodyguard was the same as being a servant, Reagan wasn’t overly fond of the starlet herself. Obviously Knox’s need to get laid trumped Marina’s high-maintenance factor.

  “I am not happy,” Coe said, pushing his bottom lip out.

  Yeah, she got that.

  “You don’t like her?” Reagan asked, amused.

  “She pats me on the head and asks me stupid questions. Like can I drive yet, or can I read? I’m only four!”

  Reagan tried not to smile. “Maybe she thinks you’re really smart.”

  “She just likes to kiss my dad.” Coe glared at her. “If she becomes my new mom then I’m going to run away.”

  “Your dad would be really sad if you did that,” Reagan said, swallowing her laughter. “Besides, I think your dad would talk to you about him getting married again if that was what he wanted to do.”

  “I’m not holding my breath,” Coe muttered, draping an arm around Rufus’s head.

  Ah, this kid cracked her up. Reagan adjusted the bag on her shoulder and waved to Reid Shaw, who was leading an Arabian mare to the outside training ring two paddocks down. The mare was pretty, tossing her head and prancing about, but the cowboy leading her looked like he should be on the front cover of a men’s health magazine. Tall, blond, broad-shouldered, and long-legged with a rugged, tanned face. Reagan tipped her head and watched his very excellent butt walk away.

  Man, well-worn Levi’s just rocked it for her.

  “Damn, that’s a fine ass.”

  Reagan turned around at the female voice and saw Flick standing on the porch, her forearms leaning on the porch railing. Reagan grinned. “I know, right?”

  “Now, if we commented on a female ass, you two would be all over me like a rash,” Knox said, stepping out of the front door, a mug of coffee in his hand. “And if your men did it, you’d be all up in their faces, giving them grief.”

  Flick shook her head and smiled. “I’m committed, not dead. Or blind.”

  Knox looked puzzled. “And you don’t mind your fiancé looking?”

  “He looks but I’m a thousand percent reassured that he won’t touch. Ever.”

  Knox lifted his eyebrows. “That’s refreshing. Sula was pathetically jealous and the few women I’ve dated since seem to be the same.”

  “You are definitely dating the wrong women,” Reagan told him, bemused by the fact that he’d mentioned Sula. “A case in point is the one upstairs.”

  “Dating is such a strong word . . .” Knox wiggled his eyebrows and Reagan laughed.

  “Tart,” she told him.

  “Guilty,” Knox replied. He looked at his watch. “She should be down for breakfast soon.”

  “I don’t want her here! And it’s not fair that you have a playdate and I don’t!” Coe glared at his father and buried his face in Rufus’s coat.

  Knox instantly looked guilty and Reagan felt sorry for him. It must be hell trying to juggle his needs as a man and having to be mom and dad and friend and companion to his son. Sometimes she felt that Knox would love to run away, to take a break. He was the best father she�
�d ever come across. He always put Coe first and nobody doubted his devotion to the four-year-old.

  But, Lord, Coe was exhausting, and she didn’t even live with him on an ongoing basis.

  Knox deserved a day on his own, deserved to spend the day with Marina, doing what any normal guy in his mid-thirties would do to a sexy woman who rocked up offering sex. Having being on the receiving end of some amazing sex herself lately, she wanted to spread the love.

  If she took Coe off his hands for the day, Knox would be well protected here. There were Cas guards on the gate, Bryn would keep an eye on the house, and Knox would be safe. And, hopefully by the end of the day, a hell of a lot less sexually frustrated.

  “What if I looked after Coe for the day? He can come with me to Caswallawn and hang out there. The guys love kids and I guarantee that one of them will take him over the obstacle course or give him a boxing lesson in the gym,” Reagan suggested. She looked at the four-year-old, who perked up at the thought of leaving the estate.

  “Can we get a milkshake? And a burger?” Coe demanded, bouncing up and down.

  Knox held up his hand. “But Mr. Brown has to stay home.” Reagan agreed, Mr. Brown was looking very brown indeed and needed a wash.

  “Noooo!” Coe wailed.

  “He needs a bath and a sleep, he’s really tired from looking after you all night,” Knox said, keeping eye contact.

  Coe narrowed his eyes. “I’ll only leave Mr. Brown if Rufus can come too.”

  Reagan looked at Flick, who gave her a slight nod, giving her permission to take her dog. Knox looked super excited and she knew what he was about to say yes. God, what had she gotten herself into? A hyperactive kid and an ADD dog? She was out of her mind.

  Coe glowered at his father and lifted a finger in his direction. “No kissing girls.”