A Lover's Vow. Brenda JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
licking across her skin, thinking about some of them.
She drew in a deep breath. Lately, her arsenal of sex toys wasn’t doing a damned thing for her. It was time to call in the big guns, the real guns. Her personal little red book, which she hadn’t used in months, was tucked in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. It was time to pull it out and flip through the pages. Most single people had little black books, but hers was red. Intentionally. It meant danger. Fire. Heat. The first name from the book that popped into her mind was Ray Ford. She wondered if he was still in town. Last time they’d talked...around this time last year...he was thinking about relocating to Baltimore to be closer to his little girl. At the time she’d only smiled, thinking that, in truth, it was probably his ex-wife he wanted to be close to. No harm there, and if that was the case she hoped they had reconciled and remarried.
Jules was about to consider another name in her little red book when she saw headlights approaching. It was easy to tell they were from a sports car. A sudden, low heat began spreading in her belly, and she frowned. Why was Dalton an ache even when he was a good twenty feet or more away, tucked safely inside his own vehicle? Just the thought of him approaching was making her body feel some pretty weird stuff, and that wasn’t good. Maybe this wasn’t the best night to have any type of conversation with him, after all. Tomorrow would be better, perhaps, when she could get control of her senses. Or maybe after she’d gotten laid.
As she watched his car turn into the condo complex, she knew excuses wouldn’t work. She was here and fired up to talk, and she wouldn’t back down. She needed to say what she wanted to say now, whether he wanted to hear it or not. She could handle this. She could handle him.
But as she watched him open his car door to get out, one leg at a time, and saw how each powerfully built thigh eased from the red two-seater, her throat suddenly went dry. And got even drier when he began walking toward his front door with that sensuous strut he could do so well, full of cool sophistication and overflowing with sexiness. He was wearing an Armani suit, and there was that air of natural confidence and casual arrogance that he exuded like no other man she knew. It turned her on when it should be turning her off. It was at times like these when she really got frustrated with herself. The very thought that her body would respond to anything about him was totally exasperating.
And here she was, outside his house, sitting in her car, determined to follow through with her mission to set the tone for a peaceful truce. She despised him; that couldn’t be helped, nor would it ever change. But for her sister and his brother, they could at least tolerate each other during those few times they were in each other’s company. She was willing to make the sacrifice and hoped he would be, too.
Knowing she needed to get it over with, confront Dalton and have her say, Jules was about to unbuckle her seat belt when she noticed a car pull up, a black sedan with tinted windows. Its approach was timed perfectly to when Dalton reached his door, opened it and went inside his condo. Only then did the driver slide the vehicle into a parking spot that provided a perfect view of Dalton’s front door. Maybe the driver lived in the complex, as well, but she had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right...so she waited.
When the driver of the vehicle killed his engine and didn’t make a move to get out of the car, she knew Dalton had been followed. Jules had been on enough investigations to recognize a tail when she saw one. Why had someone followed Dalton home just to sit there parked? Watching? Waiting?
She knew all about the Grangers’ background. About how their father, Sheppard Granger, was in prison serving time for killing their mother, although all three sons were adamant he was innocent. Just over a month ago someone had kidnapped Jace and was intent on killing him—not to mention that it was only a few weeks ago that someone had tried to run Caden down and kill him, as well. All were unrelated incidents but with the same purpose. Based on these facts, the idea that someone was following Dalton was highly suspicious.
And why should she care? He was definitely not her favorite person, and if someone had it in for him, then that person could stand in line behind her. But in reality, she knew there was logic and there was reason, and her mind couldn’t separate the two. Despite how she felt about him, if Dalton was in any kind of danger, she had to react. She blamed it on her days of being a cop, when protecting someone’s life had been her calling.
On instinct, she scanned her surroundings, this time with a different eye. If she got out of her car, whoever had followed Dalton would see her. That meant she couldn’t circle around on foot and catch the person off guard. She didn’t know if she was dealing with a man or a woman. All she knew was that not only had the person followed Dalton home, but also it seemed as if he had Dalton under surveillance and was settled in for the night. She knew she was right a short while later when Dalton had turned off all the lights, yet the vehicle did not move. Did the driver assume Dalton would be leaving again to go elsewhere?
Jules glanced at her watch. Although she had no earthly idea about Dalton’s social calendar, it was after eleven. Most people who worked the next day would be settled in for the night. But then, she wasn’t dealing with most people. She was dealing with Dalton Granger, who thought his single status and good looks gave him the right to any woman he wanted. The man who frequented nightclubs to pick up women, regardless of the day of the week or the time of day. The same man who could make her see red faster than any man she knew.
She scanned up and down the street again. Her car windows were tinted, but if the driver of the vehicle was observant, he would have noticed her car was running. It wouldn’t take long for him to begin wondering the same thing about her that she was wondering about him. Why was she just sitting in a car and not getting out?
Jules nibbled on her bottom lip as she came up with a plan, one that could expose the person who’d followed Dalton home. Reaching under her seat, she retrieved her gun. Once she had her loaded Glock securely in her hand, she tucked it inside the inner pocket of her coat. Now she was ready to handle business. She would pretend to be one of Dalton’s late-night visitors. For Dalton, that would definitely be believable. After quickly apprising him of the situation, she would leave his condo through a back entrance. That way, she could circle around the building and catch the person in the black car by surprise.
* * *
Dalton hugged the pillow to his head to drown out the insistent ringing of his doorbell. What the hell? He’d been in the middle of the most sinfully erotic dream and didn’t appreciate having it come to an end. Who in their right mind would be at his door at this time of night?
He hoped Jace and Shana hadn’t had their first big fight so Jace wanted to sleep on his sofa. That wouldn’t be happening, so he might as well take his ass over to Sutton Hills. Dalton would love to be there when his brother explained to their long-time housekeeper, Hannah, why he was back already.
But then, it might not be Jace. It could very well be Caden at his door, Dalton thought, angrily getting out of bed and grabbing his robe. Then Caden’s ass could go to Sutton Hills, as well. Nobody told them to get married, and he wasn’t running a damned boarding house.
When he reached his front door, he peered through the peephole and blinked. Jules Bradford? Shit, he must be seeing things. There was no way the very woman he’d been dreaming about moments earlier was standing outside on his doorstep. He looked through the peephole again. Miss Whirlwind? She wasn’t an illusion. His porch light was clearly shining on her.
He cautiously opened the door, and the moment he did, she threw herself in his arms and whispered, “Pretend you’re kissing me.”
That request earned a brazen chuckle from deep in his throat. Why pretend? Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms, lowered his mouth to hers and used his foot to slam the door shut behind her.
Jules heard a throaty growl just seconds before Dalton’s mouth connected with hers. She had been about to push him away, but that was before his tongue had tangled with hers, before his scent had filled her nostrils, before she could feel the brush of his fingertips across the side of her neck.