Phoenix Rising I (11 page)

“A touch telepath? That’s what the spark was between us?”

He frowned. “Yes. It’s a skill I possess, and one I can’t undo. You have a problem with that?”

She shook her head dumbly. “No problem at all, Lieutenant. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Doc Fisk a thing.”

His smile was blinding. “Good, good. Well, I’ll see you back at the shop Monday. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.” Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he ran his gaze over her body slowly, stoking the flames he’d kindled only last night. Shaking his head slightly, he backed away. “See you.”

She watched him leave in disbelief. That had either been the best brush off she’d ever witnessed, or something was seriously wrong with Drake Nichols. Afraid it was the latter, she raced to the phone and dialed Lorie.

“What?” a grumbled voice rasped.

“I’ve got problems. Big problems.”

“Shoot.” Lorie was all business, her tired voice crisp and alert.

“I had the most incredible sex of my life last night, and the man I shared it with just walked out my door as pretty as you please, as if last night never happened.”

Silence. “Tell me exactly what happened. Well, not all the details, just the ones where he suddenly lost a space of time.”

Summer quickly recounted her night with Drake, leaving the exquisite details of their lovemaking out, and waited with baited breath for answers.

“You fried his circuits.” Lorie chuckled, and that small bit of laughter eased the worry growing inside Summer.

“Explain that.”

“I knew the chemistry between you two would be hot, especially after you told me about that feeling you got when he touched you. Well, after last night’s escapades, you took the energy from him you needed and that’s that.”

“’That’s that?’”

“Yep. Good going. He won’t remember a thing. Amazing what your instincts can do, hmm? I bet you’re feeling like a new woman today, am I right?”

Summer frowned. She felt magnificent, powerful, able to take on an entire gang of criminals. But she also felt empty, as if the most important thing in her world had walked out of her life.

“Summer?”

“I feel good, yes.” She hedged. “Is Drake going to be alright?”

“Drake?” Lorie exhaled heavily. “Shit, Summer. Tell me you aren’t mistaking a Calling for something sweeter, like a crush perhaps?”

It was no crush. That she knew for sure. Unfortunately, she had little experience with matters of the heart, so she didn’t know what to make of this quagmire of feeling she held for Drake Nichols.

“It’s not a crush. I just, I,” she paused. “I like him, okay? I don’t want him hurt because of anything I did.”

“Hell no, summer. The man’s not hurt. If anything, he’s energized and doesn’t know why. It’s one of our abilities, to mask our presence when, uh, absorbing the energy we need from our partner.”

“But what if you don’t want to mask it?”

“Don’t want … are you telling me you want Nichols to know what you are?”

She didn’t know. But the idea she’d shared such pleasure last night with the man and he didn’t know it bothered the hell out of her.

“Look, Summer. It was your first time. Give yourself a break. At least now you won’t have to worry about how he treats you on Monday. He has no idea you two partied horizontal. Be smart and let it go. If he’d remembered, well, that’s one thing. But he didn’t. And you can’t change that,” she said quietly, then drummed some false cheer. “But hell, with a man like Nichols, you’ll probably be good for a few more years before needing another fix.” Lorie said something else, what, Summer wasn’t entirely sure.

She exchanged some idle chitchat before hanging up the phone, feeling lonelier now than she ever had in her life. Drake Nichols had been a gift, one she desperately wanted to keep. Yet apparently, not only had last night never happened for him, she’d misguidedly taken what he’d unconsciously given. He had no idea what a Calling really was. He’d misunderstood her last night, and the entire sexual escapade had been a mistake from the beginning.

Tears welled in her eyes and trailed down her cheeks before she could stop them.

“Dammit.” She swiped her cheeks angrily. The man she’d started to seriously fall for, the man who had done for her what no man had ever come close to doing, felt nothing for her but professional courtesy, if that.

For the first time since she’d joined the force, she dreaded work on Monday. * * * *

Drake rode his motorcycle home as if in a daze and upon stepping though the door to his apartment made a bee-line for his bedroom. He threw off his jacket and boots, but the minute his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep.

When he next awakened, he was startled to see three o’clock in large red neon numbers. Rubbing his eyes, he stared around the darkened room. Grabbing for the remote, he flicked on the television and searched for the information channel, confirming what he didn’t want to believe.

For the first time in forever, he’d slept through an entire weekend. He quickly sat up and blinked to clear his vision. Odd, but he didn’t feel groggy from too much sleep. And his body felt rejuvenated, as if he’d just received an all-points massage. Rotating his neck, he stretched his chest and licked his dry lips, needing water. Making his way to the kitchen, he downed a pint of orange juice and tried to piece together his mystery of a weekend.

The last thing he remembered was deciding to visit Summer Michaels. He dimly recalled the ride to her house and a hazy conversation that basically assured him she would be discreet about his telepathy. But there was something more … something that hovered just out of reach.

He placed the carton of juice on the counter and stared out his kitchen window at two cats duking it out on his neighbor’s fence. Scents and sounds returned to him, roses and feminine groans, the texture of soft, silken skin, the sultry flavor of a woman’s rich arousal. He licked his lips, aware his cock had no problem at all reliving the sexual fantasies--or memories--hazed in his mind.

Shaking his head, he put the orange juice away and headed for the bathroom. But the shower did nothing to ease his tension. The firm spray only made him think of Summer, of her tan skin, of the soft brown nipples that perked under the water’s touch, of her delightfully slippery body pressed against his. He groaned and leaned his forehead against the wall of the shower.

Apparently his visit to Summer had done more harm than good. He’d visited with the intention of talking to her--just talking. And he’d returned home not only exhausted, but now sporting the mother of all hard-ons. “Shit.” He glared at his cock, wishing he had more discipline over his libido than his fantasies would allow.

Turning the shower to cold, he shivered under the blast but thankfully lost his erection. A hell of a way to start the week, he thought with a grumble and left the shower to dry off.

Four hours later, he stepped into his office at the precinct, determined to get a head start on whatever he’d missed this weekend. Surprisingly, not much had happened that his squad would need to oversee. Most of the activity over the weekend was petty crap. A few minor drug busts, a local porn ring that had started again without the mayor’s express permission, and the regular working girls and boys that refused to register with the city.

Glad he hadn’t been so out of it that he’d missed a call-in, he settled into the morning routine and began work on the huge stack of paperwork Miranda had so kindly left him on Friday.

Four cups of coffee later, he blinked up at Miranda beaming at him from the doorway of his office.

“My, my,” she said, fanning herself. Her bright green eyes twinkled. “You must have had one heck of a weekend, Lt. You’re nearly caught up with the paperwork I left you. Want to share your secret?”

He took another swallow of coffee and frowned. “It’s called sleep.” But twenty- four hours of it? “And shouldn’t you be pestering Tooley about our dwindling coffee mess?”

She chuckled knowingly at his diversion. “Fine. I’ll get you the good stuff, but just because I like you. But whatever you did this weekend, I have to say, it has you almost glowing.” She winked and left him, the scent of apple pie and grandma leaving with her.

Apple pie? Why the hell was he fixated on food? “Maybe because that juice this morning wasn’t enough,” he muttered to himself. What the hell had he to be hungry about? Sleep didn’t make a body hunger. At least, it never had in the past. Shrugging and trying to shelve his unease, he focused again on his administrative tasks.

Not twenty minutes later, he sent one of his teams out to investigate a possible lead on a major Illuso ring. The damned drug was being sold on nearly every corner in the city, and if they didn’t hurry up and find the source, hundreds more would join the dozen addicts already lying in the morgue.

Noting the time, he sighed and gathered his notebook. Clearing the office, he looked over the floor, pleased to see the hum of activity he never took for granted. Damn, but he loved his work. It was steady and sometimes seemed never-ending, but putting away the assholes that dirtied the streets made him feel productive. And without a purpose, he’d probably go insane. Even on the weekends he wasn’t happy unless he completed the items on his standard Friday night ToDo list.

The thought of this past lazy weekend made him scowl, averting the pair of rookie female officers sidling up to him.

“Morning, L.T.,” Detective Tannon murmured as she passed him.

He glanced at her and nodded, alerted that her attitude felt … off. Whether it was his natural empathy or simply a nuance in Tannon’s body language, he studied the petite brunette with intensity.

“Tannon.” He watched her smoothly pour herself a cup of coffee, noted the tailored and tasteful dark brown suit that flattered her form. The brown made him take a second look, and a sudden image of amber eyes darkening to black and swimming with lust took her place.

“L.T., you all right?” Tannon asked politely, but the shrewdness of her study warned him to be guarded. What the hell was going on around here?

“Fine,” he said tersely. “Take Michaels and do a follow-up on Narc’s 487.”

“Don’t tell me. The stolen car is full of Illuso.”

“You got it.” He subtly glanced around. “Where is Michaels, anyway?”

She paused in act of sipping her coffee, then took a large swallow. “She’s in the head. She’ll be right back.”

He nodded. “Make sure you fill me in when you’re through.” He strode toward the stairwell, knowing he had only a few minutes to make it to the captain’s morning briefing. But he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder, as if drawn by something, or someone.

Detective Michaels joined Tannon by the coffee mess.

She wore a suit similar to Tannon’s, though hers was navy in color, like his. Even dressed in a conservative jacket and trousers, with her hair pulled back in a simple twist, she managed to look sensual. She looked like, like a woman needing a man, a woman needing Drake. Blinking at the stupid thought, he shook his head and took the stairs in a rush.

He made it to the meeting with seconds to spare. The captain greeted him and the other section leaders and began his briefing. Amidst the rundown on a shitload of Illuso hitting the street and the newest rise of carjacking terrorizing the neighborhoods, the scent of vanilla and roses surrounded Drake, making it difficult as hell to concentrate. Irritated that everything around him made him think of Michaels, he resolved to get to the bottom of this tonight.

One way or the other.

Chapter Five

Knowing it was a bad idea but helpless to stop himself, Drake pounded on Summer Michael’s door with impatience. His heart pounded and his skin felt too tight. He shook his head, wondering if he was coming down with something. Why the hell would he feel nervous and lightheaded around Michaels? Granted, she was sexier than a woman had a right to be, but Drake had never lacked for female attention.

“I said I’m coming,” she snapped as she opened the door. “What the hell is your prob … lem?”

Staring at him with wide, innocent eyes, she made him feel twenty feet tall. Her glance ran over his face, resting on his lips and down his body, ever so slowly. She licked her lips and met his gaze again, her color high.

He cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware of how aroused he was. Thank God for his long overcoat or Michaels would surely be screaming sexual harassment. He stepped forward and she automatically stepped back. Then, frowning at him, she waved him inside.

“Lieutenant Nichols, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked as she shut the door behind him.

She hadn’t yet changed out of her uniform. She’d discarded her jacket, however, and the sheer white blouse she wore showed the hint of something lacy beneath. He could almost imagine how good her breasts would feel in his mouth ….

“Ahem.”

He met her questioning look with one of his own. “What the hell’s going on, Michaels?”

She blinked at him innocently, but he knew she was nervous, could feel her emotions as if they were his own. Michaels, like most of the people on his team, was normally very closed to him, used to guarding herself against intrusion. But now he could read her easily. He didn’t understand it.

And he didn’t want it. Knowing how aroused she was, how much she in fact wanted him, was killing his self-control.

“Nothing’s going on, Lieutenant Nichols. Tannon and I told you everything when we got back from Narcotics.” She looked puzzled, but her emotions fairly screamed at him to step back, to get far away.

Naturally, he did the opposite. He took one step forward and then another, until he stood a hair’s breadth from her. Mistake. Big mistake.

The minute he inhaled, he felt dizzy, and unbearably aroused. “Michaels?”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it. Groaning, she leaned her head on his chest, as if in defeat. “Call me Summer,” she sighed, then dragged him down for a kiss that quelled any instinct he might have had to resist.

Caught in her taste, in the feel of her ripe lips and cool, soft skin, Drake was lost. He discarded his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt while she unbuttoned hers. His hands were in her hair before he could stop himself, and he deepened the kiss when her black silken tresses cascaded over his hands and forearms, erotic little whips of pleasure wherever they touched.