Protecting What's His (Line of Duty #1)(43)

“I did everything I could to find Natalie before fourth period, to tell her I wanted to ask you. I never even wanted you to know about what happened, but I didn’t get to her in time. She knows now, though. Believe me.”

Willa’s face cracked. “I hate you for making me care about some stupid high school dance, Evan Carmichael.”

He took a cautious step toward her. “No, you don’t hate me. Don’t say that.”

Tears streaked down her face. “Yes, I do.”

“Please don’t cry. There’s nothing to cry about.” Evan reached Willa in two strides and lifted her off the floor into a sweeping hug. She stuck her damp face in the crook of his neck and sobbed.

Derek glanced down at Ginger, who watched the couple in complete awe, moisture brimming in her eyes. Derek reached out without thinking and stroked a thumb across her cheek to comfort her. She leaned into his palm for a moment, then flinched away.

Derek sighed. “I have to get back to work, but we need to talk tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Dammit, I—” His phone rang, cutting him off. Derek read the caller ID flashing across the screen. The chief of police had called twice, probably wondering where the hell he’d gone with less than an hour to go before the raid. “I have to go. We will talk tomorrow.”

Derek couldn’t afford to wait for her reply. He turned and stalked out of the building.





Chapter Eighteen


Ginger woke on the floor as if a fire alarm had gone off, knocking over a half-full glass of red wine.

What the hell is that noise?

She shoved the heels of her hands against her eyes, blocking out the lamplight. A magazine clipping depicting a cat wearing sunglasses was stuck to one of her hands, and she ripped it off, letting it flutter to the floor. When her momentary fuzziness passed, she tried to piece together the last few hours.

Willa and Evan reuniting in the hallway. Evan staying for dinner. Ginger watching Willa smile and laugh like she hadn’t done in years while Ginger plied herself with wine, lamenting the fact that she was now the only emotionally stunted sister in the room.

Check, check, and check.

She buried her head in her hands and groaned. When had the world shifted and left her sitting in the same spot? They’d been fine before, hadn’t they? Two sisters against the world! Sure, they never discussed their hopes or fears, but they sure as hell had each other’s backs. Now, Ginger wondered if she’d been wearing blinders as her sister developed an entirely new facet to her personality.

She’d been the one to make the decision to leave Chicago for a new start, but the only thing she’d really changed was her location. Willa had found a way to move on from the past. Why couldn’t she?

Derek wanted to talk to her tomorrow. The very idea of discussing a potential relationship between them frightened her. He didn’t realize how impossible a task he faced trying to convince her to take that leap. Did he think a simple conversation could erase the previous twenty-three years she spent not trusting anyone but herself?

We’re more than sex, Ginger. Accept it.

Oddly enough, she had accepted it. Something very clearly existed between them besides their intense sexual attraction. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be feeling sexually frustrated, sitting in a pool of cheap wine. She’d be with Derek, working out those frustrations in a far more entertaining manner.

She couldn’t allow herself to succumb to those urges, though. Every second she spent with him made it harder to keep a comfortable distance. And even if she wanted to attempt a purely sexual relationship with Derek, he’d made it clear that arrangement didn’t work for him. Damn him for that. Because his restraint had accomplished far more than simply impressing her, which it had. It made her wonder if his intentions toward her really were genuine. If maybe a relationship could work if two strong-willed people, such as them, wanted it to.

What would Derek be like as a boyfriend? Controlling, possessive, challenging. Yes to all of the above.

She thought of the man she’d danced with on Saturday night. The humble, comforting Derek with the dry sense of humor. The one who’d held her hand and stroked her hair. She’d barely scratched his surface. Did she want to?

Yes and no. Yes, because men like him were rare. She wanted to know what drove him, made him who he is. To have all that seething intensity focused on her…it would never be boring, that was for certain.

No, because the more she knew about him, the harder he would be to forget.

But Ginger knew one thing. She missed him so badly her chest ached. The thought of letting Derek go without at least making an attempt at something more left her feeling empty.

Tomorrow, she’d listen to what he had to say. Then she’d decide.

Where is that noise coming from?

She peeled her hands away from her sensitive eyes and spotted her cell phone buzzing and dancing on the coffee table she’d been working on prior to passing out. Her clock said 1:45 a.m. The screen of her cell displayed an unknown number with a Chicago area code. Who would be calling her at this time of night?

“Hello?”

“Oh, Ginger. Thank God. I’ve called three times.”

She recognized the thick Chicago accent. Patty, the lady she’d met at the charity event. Something sank heavily in her stomach. No one called at this time of night with good news, and their only connection was Derek.