Conflicting Interests (11 page)

“You really didn’t answer the question.”

“There are so many things I wish I could say to you that I’m
simply not allowed to say.”

It was her turn to sigh but it was far more frustrated than
his. “I like you too.” He just stared at her. He didn’t say a word. She’d
thrown it in his face again.

“Kat, I want you to understand something. I want what’s best
for you. That’s the only thing you need to know about me.”

“Then don’t ignore me. It hurt my feelings. I thought at the
very least we were friends and I could wave to you. I felt like a complete
idiot standing there.” Her hurt was seeping through her words.

“You really think we can be friends? You think that’s
possible for us?” His words were loaded. He wasn’t really asking.

“Why not?”

“You don’t need me to answer that question.”

“It’s not so complicated.” She was challenging him.

“Okay.” He ran his finger along the line of his chin as he
approached her. “Let me start by saying it’s really easy for you to say that.
Your job doesn’t depend on me keeping my dick out of you. Your safety doesn’t
depend on you being able to stay focused, rational, unemotional.” He obviously
wasn’t going to be holding back on making his point.

“I said friends, not lovers.” She was actually serious when
she said it, though admittedly she sounded like a complete dumbass.

His smirk was subtle and it was completely devoid of humor—the
hand that reached out for her exposed knee was slow, deliberate. “You would
stop me if I did this?” His fingers brushed the inside of her knee. The skin
was sensitive and she almost cried out at the warm tickle. His eyes held hers
with a raised brow.

When he pulled his hand back from her leg, it wasn’t to stop
tormenting her arousal. Instead he let his mouth taunt her. It was just a soft
gentle kiss at the corner of her mouth but it set her desire off like a
firecracker in her womb. When he pulled back, he kept his face mere inches from
hers. Far enough to hold her gaze but close enough she could feel his warm
breath on her skin.

“And that? You’d stop me?” He watched her. He couldn’t
possibly be waiting for a reaction and she was far too dumbfounded to give him
one. “What if I pulled your nipple into my mouth with my lips?” She sucked in a
quick breath. “If I slipped my finger into your pussy? Hmm?”

She started slowly shaking her head. Hell no, she wouldn’t
stop this man from doing anything he wanted to her body.

“Well that’s too fucking bad, isn’t it? Because I’m not at
all sure I could resist doing every last one of those things to you given the
chance, friends or not, and if you’re no more capable of putting a stop to it
than I am, well where would we be then?”

His eyebrows shot up but the seduction was gone. His face
was a bit somber, defeated. “You know I want you. I want to do every last thing
I said to you and more. The fact of the matter is all of those things make me
less able to do my job. And I’d rather keep you alive than fuck you.” His eyes
were incredibly serious as he regarded her and she felt like a child being chastised
for her poor behavior. “I won’t ignore you again. It was rude and I’m sorry.”

She had no idea what to say. She was aroused, frustrated—she
felt damn stupid and guilty for pushing the conversation down that path and in
her panic, she grasped at the first question that popped in her mind, desperate
to get back to some safe form of conversation that would hide her intense need.
“How’s Seth?” Maybe this was a safe topic.

“He’s doing well. He says you’re a cool teacher and he
called you an old person.” His smile was subtle. They weren’t friends after
all.

“Well, I am a cool teacher and he’s obviously not met his
dad. How old are you by the way?”

“Thirty-five.” His face looked strained. It was as if she
was pulling the conversation out of him at this point. He’d made his point and
now he was driving it home.

“See, now
that’s
old.” She tried for a laugh but it
fell flat and he just watched her, forcing his lips to pull up slightly.

“I should go.”

They stood by the front door staring at each other for far
too long and as she started to reach for the door handle he did too. Their
hands collided and he pulled back as though her skin was radioactive.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Kat.” His
voice was quiet and she knew damn well he was overstepping a boundary right
then, regardless of how hard he fought to put one up just minutes before in the
kitchen. She didn’t give a shit about his boundaries at the moment. She wanted
him to destroy each and every last one of them and give in to it. But she
wasn’t surprised in the least when he abruptly walked out the door.

She watched him walk to his SUV and after he pulled from the
driveway and the gate was secure, she returned to the kitchen where the kettle
was only just starting to whistle. She made tea and paced. She paced and paced
and paced until the door finally opened and Imogen came in.

“So?”

“Uh… Imagine gratuitous porn images—and I mean gratuitous—with
my head attached to the body. And oh yeah, Dillon’s too. You can apparently do
a lot with Photoshop to humiliate a person.” Katrina wasn’t sure why she didn’t
tell Imogen about the rest of their conversation. Perhaps she didn’t want to
sound so pathetic or perhaps she just didn’t know how to explain it to her.

The porn images were enough though to hold Imogen’s
attention and she stared wide-eyed at her. She grabbed them each a beer from
the fridge, took Katrina’s tea straight from her hand and tossed it in the
sink. “Why are you wasting your time with tea? Drink. And…uh…yeah, they do it
all the time in tabloids, doll. Next thing you’re going to tell me you’ve got
paparazzi following you. Well can’t they just CSI that shit or something?”

Katrina just stared at Imogen for a moment. “Um, I’ll make
sure to ask him if they can just CSI the shit.”

“So did you keep your hands of his wanker?”

“I did. There will definitely be no more wanker touching.”

“That’s my good little temptress.”

She was pleasantly buzzed by the time they called it a night
and she crashed in the spare room. But it didn’t take long for her to realize
it was going to be another long worrisome night of no sleep. The spare room was
on the second floor and while not quite so grandiose as the master on the first
floor, it still had tall ceilings, a balcony overlooking the water and enough
windows to bring the lake practically into the room. Katrina ended up lying
with her head at the foot of the bed, gazing out at the moon shimmering off the
water.

* * * * *

When she showed up at the precinct the next day, she looked
nervous. She held another tape in her hand and he bristled with irritation at
the thought she’d gone home but after the strained, awkward, hot and downright
inappropriate conversation they’d had in her kitchen the day before, he decided
not to chastise too much.

“I just went home over lunch to check on Kitty. There was a
message. I thought I should just come straight here.” He led her away to a
quiet room to listen to the tape. She looked like she felt as awkward as he
did. He’d basically told her he didn’t want to be her friend. Of course he’d
also basically said it was because he wanted to fuck her too much.

He’d screwed up—there was no doubt about that. He might want
to be far more than her friend but he still needed to
be
her friend. He
was going to have to find some way to fix that.

Stephens was out at the moment and Dillon couldn’t help but
be glad they’d be listening to this alone. Given the blush of her cheeks, there
was reason to assume this might be equally as humiliating as the Photoshopped
pictures.

“Did you like the artwork I left you? What can I say, I’m
just calling it like I see it. That man wants to fuck your brains out but then
given the look on your face when you’re with him, you want it just as much as
he does. You think he fucks good? I bet he’d like nothing more than to get his
cock inside your body. Whadya think? How do you think he measures up to your
dildo?”

Well, so far the man wasn’t saying anything they didn’t both
already know, but she was staring at his chest across the table from him. He
was watching her face intently, wondering all the while where he was getting
the nerve, considering the topic of conversation. The lunatic was rambling on
and on about Dillon’s penis and though he was certain he should be humiliated,
he stifled it and watched her.

Her cheeks were pink and her hands were clasped tightly on
the tabletop. He wanted to reach out and reassure her. This tape was nothing
more than a humiliation for them both under the circumstances but he wasn’t
allowed to act as though it had anything to do with them—though it doubtless
had everything to do with them.

“You think he eats pussy? I bet he’d eat yours and I bet
you’d love it. You would moan his name the way you used to moan Jason’s every
time that fucker licked your cunt. You used to love it. You’d pinch your own
nipples between your fingers, cry out as he sucked on your clit. Is he
listening to this? I bet he is. He’s one of the detectives, isn’t he? I bet he
would love to do all sorts of things to your body and you’d let him. You think
he thinks about you when he jacks off? I bet he does. I bet he thinks about you
and what you do to your own body with that dildo. You practically owe me your
thanks. If it weren’t for me, he’d have no idea just what a fucking whore you
are. What man doesn’t want to fuck a whore like you?

She stood, nearly knocking her chair over. “I’m sorry. I
just can’t do this.” And then she bolted from the room before he could stop
her. He hit the stop button and pocketed the small tape recorder before taking
off after her. But then he ran right into Stephens and by the time he made it
down to the front lobby she was nowhere to be found. When he returned upstairs,
Stephens was waiting for him, scratching his chin.

“What the fuck was that all about?”

“Another message. Guess she didn’t want to hear the end of
it.”

“Yeah? Well, I do. Let’s hear it.”

Stephens eyed him suspiciously as they listened to the tape
in the same small little room and Dillon avoided his gaze. Odd he should be so
intent on watching Katrina’s face but he was so determined not to meet
Stephens’. He was afraid Stephens would see through him and he just wasn’t up
for it. The end of the tape was more of the same vulgar drivel as the first
part with a few references to Katrina, Dillon and anal sex thrown in to make it
interesting. No wonder she’d fled. He didn’t blame her.

“So, you fuckin’ this girl?”

His glare flashed to Stephens, meeting his eyes easily for
the first time as the tape ended. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

“I’m not answering that question.”

“You just did.” Stephens let out an angry humph. “You’ve
never been careless about your responsibilities—”

“And I’m not now! And how dare you insinuate I am? You
believe some psycho on a tape who’s obsessed with our victim over me? Is that
it? You think I’m sleeping with her just because some dumb fucking lunatic
suggests it?” His voice was raised and he was struggling not to yell.

“I think you’re treading on thin ice with her. I’ve seen you
with her. You can pretend it’s innocent all you want but there’s nothing
innocent about it.” Stephens stood and stalked from the room.

He had no business going after her and he didn’t. At least
not for a couple of hours. But the moment he was out the door of the precinct
in his car, the war in his mind started and he fought with himself half the way
home until he finally turned around and headed to Imogen’s house instead. He
had no business at all doing this. He wasn’t treading on thin ice—he was
jumping up and down on it, daring it to break through and destroy his career.

When there was a knock on the door that night, Katrina
nearly jumped herself right off the couch and onto the floor. She was grading—or
trying to grade, though she couldn’t concentrate on anything. Imogen had a date
and was gone for the evening, leaving Katrina alone in her veritable fortress
on the water.

She peeked through the peephole and there he was. The man
who had her guts wound into knots, her heart trying to pull apart at the seams
and her panties soaked through every time he was near her. She was pathetically
attached to him—the man who didn’t want to be her friend. Was it this damn
case, the security he exuded perhaps? Or was it just him?

Her heart had sunk on the way home from the precinct. It was
just a damn lousy way to end an already-shitty day and as she pulled the door
open for him, she fought all the bullshit spinning through her mind. She wanted
to give into it and fall apart. It had just been one of those kinds of days.
But she didn’t. She offered a small smile and stepped back so he could enter.
He watched her carefully as he passed—he wasn’t buying her feigned smile.

“Are you okay?”

No
. It’s what she wanted to say. Instead she nodded
slowly and led him to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and she leaned
against the opposite one. It was silent and after a moment, she walked to the
fridge, grabbed a couple of beers and handed him one. She opened hers
immediately and took a big swig. He looked at his for a moment before setting
it unopened on the counter next to him and then returned his eyes to her.

“What’s going on with you?”

“I only talk about things like that with my friends.” She
was throwing his bullshit in his face but she felt guilty the moment she said
it.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, you were right.” Her eyes stared at the ground for a
few seconds. “Heard a story on the radio on my way home today. Young woman,
abducted, beaten, raped, murdered. Her body was just dumped on the side of the
road like garbage.”

“Yeah. I know that case.”

She found his eyes. He was watching her cautiously. He
looked suspicious of where she was going with this. “Just got me thinking.”

“Katrina, don’t do this.” There was a warning in his voice
but he didn’t know her moods—and when she was in a mood like this, she wasn’t
going to be stopped.

“I could turn into a dead body one of these days, couldn’t
I?”

“Please.” He sounded desperate.

“That girl was alive too. She was alive just like me—until…she
wasn’t.”

“Don’t.” He sounded like he was damn-near begging.

“My body could just end up being part of a crime scene. All
of those crime scene technicians who picked through those fucking disgusting
pictures could end up picking through a crime scene with my dead body in it one
of these days.”

“Stop it!” Now he was angry.

The tears that had been threatening and pricking at
Katrina’s eyes since that damn radio announcement hours before finally
appeared. She could feel them sitting on her lower eyelids and yet she felt
oddly calm, as though she couldn’t really cry if she wanted to. The tears sat
there as she took in his glare. It wasn’t a mean glare—it was loaded with some
kind of emotion she couldn’t even begin to guess.

“I get it.” His brow wrinkled at her words. “I get why we
can’t… You were right.” He slowly shook his head as his eyes fell to the
ground. He was finally catching on and he didn’t like what she was saying. “If
we were…intimate—hell, even friends—how much more difficult would my death be
for you?” It wasn’t really a question that needed an answer and given the shake
of his head and the purse of his lips, he had no intention of answering it.
“Best to hold me at arm’s length.”

She wasn’t trying to be rude. She was dead serious. The
thought of him having to see her in death left as much sadness in her for him
as it did for herself.

She didn’t expect the explosive movement of his body toward
her. He grabbed her by the waist, lifting her easily to the countertop and
pushing his way between her legs before his hands found her hips and gripped
her tightly. “No. I was wrong. I mean I’m right but I—I need more.” His head
was dropped to hold her gaze harshly. His voice was just as harsh when he spoke
again. “But don’t you dare assume your importance to me is about sex. If
anything happened to you… It doesn’t matter if I fuck you or not. It would
destroy me.”

His grip on her hips was possessive and tight. He was
pulling her body toward the edge of the counter and straight to his groin. Her
tears were falling pathetically and he was refusing to look away from her. When
his hands met her cheeks, he clutched her face so close to his. Their mouths
were nearly touching and she could smell the scent of mint on his breath. His
deep breathing was a metronome that started to soothe her panicked and defeated
mind and when his warm lips touched hers, her despair melted away.

He was gentle and slow as his mouth tugged on first one lip
then another. But as gentle as his kiss was, when he dropped one hand to clutch
her by the lower back, he was not gentle in the least. He pulled her body to
his, forcing the space between them to disappear. She didn’t care though—she
was melting away to a place that felt so much better and safer than life and
what he was doing to her body was the key to it all.

He pulled her body to teeter on the edge of the counter and
his hold on her pinned her firmly between his hand at her back and his groin in
the front. He was aroused, hard and tightly restrained by his jeans but he made
no move to touch her body further. He was only interested in her lips. His
tongue dipped between hers, slow and cautious at first and then invasive and
aggressive.

She wanted to look at him but she was afraid he’d stop if
she broke whatever spell he was under. She’d meant it when she said she
understood why they couldn’t. She did. She completely got it and her brain was
screaming at her to stop before they both ended up regretting what they were
doing but his mouth felt so good, so possessive and powerful and she just
didn’t want it to end.

He finally did pull from her mouth. The pad of his thumb ran
over the skin of her cheek as he held her gaze. She was damn near holding her
breath, waiting for him to walk away but he didn’t.

“Oh fuck, what am I doing?” He muttered it under his breath
as his eyes glanced down at their bodies held so closely together. When he
looked back to her, his brow flinched for half a second and she knew it was
over. But then slowly, so slowly she could watch every last inch of space
between them disappear, he leaned to her mouth again.

She focused on the wet smacking of their lips over and over
again as she tasted him. Dear God, he was good at this.

The door being slammed open startled them both. “Calls
himself a chemical engineer! He develops pictures at a drugstore. Arsehole liar
is what he is!” And then Imogen rounded the corner to them. They were already
frozen, staring at each other but with their bodies still snug together. His
lips glistened beautifully and her lips were throbbing and sore. They both
looked to Imogen but his hands remained on her hips and he closed in closer to
her as though to shield her in some way.

“Oh! Well I saw your car outside but I didn’t expect—but you
two just…you should just, uh…” She held up her index fingers bringing them
together as Katrina’s cheeks started burning hot. “I’ll just, uh— I’m going to
go. To the other room.” Her finger shot up in the air like a general ready to
lead a charge. And then she literally ran from them toward her bedroom. Damn it.
That was humiliating.
That
was Imogen.

Well now it was going to happen. Now he was going to pull away.
He’d found his bearings without doubt thanks to Imogen and it was over. When he
leaned to her mouth once more, planting a gentle kiss on her lips, she moaned
quietly against his mouth.

“Two years is just too fucking long.” He muttered it as he
brushed the hair away from her cheek. She had no real idea what he was talking
about but the tone of his voice was just right. The smile he offered her was
gentle. The hesitance or maybe even shock was there but he seemed intent on
keeping it to himself.

He kissed her forehead one more time and she followed him to
the front door. “I’ll talk to you soon.” He held her eyes as she nodded and
then he was gone.

She practically collapsed against the door once it was
closed behind her and in a millisecond she heard Imogen’s feet stomping toward
her in a mad race. “What the—I mean, what the…” She pointed to the door and
then she pointed at Katrina as she walked toward the kitchen and then she
finally brought her index fingers together again. There was no denying Imogen
could be quite the child at times. Then again, so could Katrina. “Spill it,
bitch!”

Katrina shook her head, a bit dumbfounded, and after a
moment she gave up trying to come up with some rational explanation for what
had just happened and she collapsed on the couch. Imogen just sat and stared at
her.

Eventually, Katrina picked herself up off the couch and
stumbled upstairs to bed. Imogen never had really found her voice again but
then Katrina had never quite figured out what had happened. She just knew she
wanted it to happen again. Boy did she ever want to be that man’s friend.