O'Halloran's Lady Read online

  As powerful and overwhelming as the attraction was for her, she couldn’t allow herself to forget that to O’Halloran her primary importance was as a lead in his investigation.

  * * *

  The following evening, after a day split between Auckland Central and putting together a comprehensive list of all of the men in both Natalie’s and Jenna’s lives, Marc surveyed the reception room at the Lombard Hotel. A combined book signing and literacy function was being held and the room was presently packed with an array of brightly dressed and heavily perfumed women. Because the hotel was also a casino, a smattering of other guests continually drifted through the door and mingled, a number of them men.

  West and Carter were present, cruising the crowd and keeping an eye on the doors. Blade Lombard, part of the SAS team that Carter, West and McCabe had belonged to, and also the current manager of the hotel and casino, had also offered to help out with security.

  Like Marc, Blade’s gaze was fixed on the line of fans queuing to obtain a signed book from Jenna. A number of other authors were also part of the function, but none of them commanded queues that wound like a snake around the walls.

  He caught Marc’s eye, his own expression rueful. “Do you read her books?”

  Marc automatically stiffened then allowed himself to relax. “Yeah, they’re good.”

  “My wife writes the same stuff. I like her books, although the love scenes are a bit—”

  Marc found himself grinning that Blade, who was normally eloquent, seemed to be at a loss for words.

  Blade frowned as he saw what Marc had just noticed: a very masculine-looking woman wearing a heavy dress and a shapeless jacket was in Jenna’s queue. “Do you think she’s for real?”

  Marc’s jaw tightened as he noted her brawny shoulders and muscular calves. “What do you think?”

  Blade shook his head. “No way.”

  By tacit agreement they moved closer, Blade strolling down one side of the queue, Marc taking the other. Marc still wasn’t completely sure of gender, but he wasn’t about to be caught flatfooted.

  As the woman reached Jenna’s table, her hand dived inside the left lapel of her jacket. Marc swore beneath his breath. A split second later, Blade, who was slightly closer and definitely more on edge, beat him to the punch and caught the woman in a wrestling hold. A strangled shriek rent the air as Marc jerked the flap of the jacket open and the “gun,” in reality a battered copy of what looked like Jenna’s first book, dropped to the floor. Jenna, looking gorgeous and sultry in a tangerine halter-neck dress, pushed to her feet.

  The whole room seemed to freeze as the motorised click of cameras filled the air. Blade muttered a gritty, mostly indistinct word and let her go, and the now overloud hum of conversation broke over them.

  The woman spun and confronted her attacker. “You’re Blade Lombard, aren’t you?”

  Blade dragged at his tie, looking acutely uncomfortable. “That’s right, ma’am.”

  “I read your wife’s books.”

  A relieved expression flashed in his dark gaze. “How many copies would you like?”

  The woman smiled determinedly. “I don’t want a book. What I’d like is for you to do that hold again so I can get a picture.”

  “How about,” Jenna interceded smoothly, “I give you a gift pack of all ten of my books?” She grabbed a wrapped box of books and handed it over. The woman, now thoroughly distracted, took the books. Blade, recognizing an out when he saw one, slipped away into the crowd.

  With the woman mollified by the books, Jenna indicated to Marc that she needed to take a break. On edge, even though there hadn’t been a threat, Marc stayed close as he walked Jenna to the ladies’ room.

  Jenna sent him a cool glance. “Did you have to attack her?”

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  Jenna was abruptly silent, and Marc cursed himself for being so grim. Up until now, Jenna had actually relaxed and she had been enjoying herself.

  * * *

  The corridor leading to the bathrooms was filled with a mixture of men. On top of the casino crowd, there was also a pharmacy convention running in an adjacent reception room.

  Gaze cold as he skimmed each of the men, Marc made an executive decision. He couldn’t afford to let Jenna go into the ladies’ room without protection. Ignoring outraged gasps, he stepped into the pale pink bathroom and grimly waited.

  As they exited the ladies’ room, a barrage of cameras met them. His annoyance growing, a cold itch down his spine, Marc escorted Jenna back to her table. Using his lip mike, he spoke to West and Carter and requested that they move in closer and watch anyone with a camera. A few years ago, McCabe had been shot at a fashion event filled with cameras. Just like the book signing, the fashion show had been a security nightmare.

  Jenna’s queue gradually reduced in size. Marc checked his watch as he grimly stood over Jenna, more than happy to make it plain that if anyone tried to harm her they would have to deal with him. The fact that more and more men had filtered into the room didn’t make him feel any happier.

  A pretty female reporter for a women’s magazine asked if she could take a picture of Jenna. After Jenna had posed, she requested a second shot, this time with Marc.

  Obligingly, Jenna looped one arm around his waist. Cameras whirred and clicked as more reporters moved in. In that moment, something shifted at the edge of Marc’s vision, a reporter with a zoom lens that looked more like a gun than a camera, and his patience dissolved.

  Chapter 14

  Expression grim, O’Halloran’s hand landed in the small of her back. “That’s it, we’re out of here.”

  West and Carter automatically fell in behind them. Somewhere, another camera flashed.

  O’Halloran’s jaw locked. He saw the distinctive outline of Blade Lombard’s shoulders, the black gleam of his ponytail, heard a muffled epithet. A number of reporters had been asked to leave. At a guess, another had just been escorted to the door.

  They reached the bank of elevators, and O’Halloran pressed the call button. Slow seconds passed before the doors swished open and he ushered Jenna inside. Carter stepped inside with them; West stayed downstairs. O’Halloran lifted a hand as the doors closed. West would keep an eye on anyone trying to follow them.

  O’Halloran’s arm locked around Jenna’s waist as the elevator shot up. Jenna didn’t complain. She’d been on tenterhooks all night, mostly because of the danger, but also because O’Halloran had been the cynosure of a lot of female eyes and she’d finally had enough.

  She had thought she could be adult and sophisticated about O’Halloran mixing with her mostly female audience, but a gorgeous, leggy brunette coiling her arms around O’Halloran’s neck had been the last straw.

  Natalie had been the exception to the rule, because she had been genuinely nice and Jenna had loved her, but with any other woman she found she was burningly, searingly jealous.

  O’Halloran hadn’t responded to the brunette—he had barely seemed to see her—but that didn’t matter. The fact was, she had been a threat. For however long she and O’Halloran were together, he was her man, and she wasn’t prepared to share.

  Carter melted away as they reached their suite. O’Halloran unlocked the door then insisted on going in first.

  O’Halloran’s actions were like a dash of cold water, forcibly reminding Jenna of the threat. Following him into the suite, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it as she waited for O’Halloran to finish checking it out.

  He stepped out of her bedroom, crossed the width of the lounge and looked in the second bedroom.

  When he re-joined her in the lounge, he shrugged out of the shoulder holster and laid it and the Glock on the coffee table beside his laptop. Dragging his tie to loosen it, he simply walked to her and pulled her into his arms. Dropping h
er evening bag on the floor, Jenna closed her arms around his neck, went up on her toes and angled her jaw for his kiss.

  After the past twenty or so hours, when O’Halloran had seemed to withdraw from her almost completely into the investigation and his role as bodyguard, she had begun to despair. She had understood his motivation, his driving need to bring the killer to justice, but she hadn’t liked the feeling of being so easily sidelined.

  They were going to make love, and the knowledge that they had finally reached that point made her feel wobbly with relief. After the misery of the previous night, spent tossing and turning in her room, considering the very real possibility that once the killer was caught O’Halloran could walk out of her life, there was no way she was missing a chance that might never come again.

  From the time she had fished her latest book out of its box and been shocked by the likeness of the cover model to O’Halloran until now, her objections to falling for him had been systematically obliterated. Maybe it was as simple as recognizing just how lonely she had been. Whatever the catalyst was, inside she had changed and she couldn’t change back.

  She wanted him; she loved him, and the emotions were deep and painful.

  She could back away from committing to sex, insist they wait and see if a viable relationship developed. The only problem was, neither of them was “normal” when it came to relationships.

  They were both hurt and just a little dysfunctional. She had loved him for years. If she had loved him that long, chances were she wasn’t going to fall out of love with him anytime soon.

  Maybe what they would share wouldn’t mean anything special to O’Halloran. The probability was that for him it would be nothing more than a fleeting affair.

  Even so, that was a risk she had to take. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t at least try.

  O’Halloran lifted his head, his gaze midnight dark. “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”

  For an answer, Jenna fitted herself more tightly against the hard-muscled plains of O’Halloran’s body, and pulled his mouth back to hers.

  The passion was white-hot and instant. The relief of her breasts flattened against his chest, the scrape of stubble against her jaw, made her shudder. O’Halloran tasted as good as he smelled, clean and male and delicious.

  As she lifted up against him for a second kiss, this one deeper, hotter, she wondered how she had managed to live without him.

  His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her captive. She logged his groan of satisfaction as his mouth came back down on hers, and she found herself walked back a half step, then another, until her bare back came up against the cold solidity of the wall.

  The relief of O’Halloran’s weight pinning her, the heat blasting off him, the firm shape of his arousal pressing into her belly, sent a sensation jerking through her. She felt his fingers at her nape, the release of tension as the halter of her dress loosened then slipped down to hang around her waist, then his hands swept up to cup her breasts.

  For a brief moment, time seemed to move with liquid slowness as he kissed her jaw, the curve of her neck. The abrasive warmth of his palms, the sensual drag of his shirt against naked skin, made her stomach clench.

  Dragging at his tie, she tossed it aside and unfastened his shirt.

  O’Halloran said something low and rough. Bending his head he took one breast in his mouth. Her fingers clenched in his hair for long seconds then restlessly shifted to his shoulders as the aching heat in her belly coiled tight, and suddenly there was no air.

  Jenna felt a tug, a rush of cool air, then fabric puddled around her feet.

  Swallowing at the sheer vulnerability of being mostly naked while O’Halloran was still almost fully dressed, Jenna tugged at the buttons of his shirt until it hung loose from his shoulders. “I could do with some help here.”

  O’Halloran grinned quick and hard and shrugged out of the shirt then pulled her close. The heat of skin-on-skin contact spun her back nine years, to darkness and moonlight, an uncomfortable couch and too little time.

  This time, she thought a little dizzily, as she dragged at the fastening of his trousers, they would have all night. She heard his swiftly indrawn breath, and then the room tilted as he swung her into his arms. Short seconds later, she found herself deposited on the cloudlike softness of the bed.

  The room was dark, illuminated by the strip of light glowing in the door and by the bright moonlight flowing in off the balcony. She watched as O’Halloran stepped out of his trousers. She drew in her breath at the sleek width of his shoulders, the hard flatness of his stomach, the muscular length of his legs.

  She heard a faint tearing sound. Dimly, she registered that O’Halloran had just sheathed himself with a condom.

  She felt a tug at her hips and registered the glide of her panties as they slid down her legs and the cool wash of air.

  For long minutes he simply held her close, kissing and soothing her and letting her explore. When her hand slid down over washboard abs and found him, he groaned and came down on top of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He lowered his weight, and her breath came in as she felt the nudge of his knee between her thighs.

  Her stomach tightened at the sheer vulnerability of opening her legs, but that consideration evaporated as she felt the sudden pressure as he lodged in her opening. His gaze locked with hers as his weight settled more heavily on her.

  The sheer intimacy of being this close with O’Halloran, gazes locked, breaths mingling, the sensual heat of his body pressing into hers, was seductive. She arched, wanting more, wanting him closer still, and with one heavy thrust he was inside her.

  Time seemed to slow, stop, as she adjusted to the intrusion, part of her still reeling from the unexpected speed of his entry.

  O’Halloran cupped her jaw, his gaze strained. “When was the last time you made love?”

  Jenna sucked in a breath, her whole being still centred on easing the pressure between her legs. “Do I have to answer that?”

  O’Halloran said something low and gritty. “I knew it. You haven’t made love with anyone else.”

  She took another breath and moved her hips slightly. The pressure was easing, but just. “I’ve been...busy.”

  “Uh-huh. Writing about it.”

  She caught the edge of his smile, and the tension that had gripped her at the whole idea of making love evaporated. After all, it wasn’t an exam she could potentially fail; it was something that was supposed to come naturally.

  He cupped her jaw. “If you want me to stop, just say so. Otherwise, I’ll take it slow.”

  Her gaze flashed to his. “Don’t you dare stop.”

  In response, O’Halloran leaned down and touched his mouth to hers, the kiss oddly sweet. As he did so, he eased back then pushed in slowly. This time the entry was easier, smoother. O’Halloran continued the slow rocking for long minutes. Dipping his head, he took one breast into his mouth and bit down gently.

  Sensation gathered, coiled tight, jerked through her in hot, dizzying waves. She gripped O’Halloran’s shoulders. Moments later, he plunged deep and the room dissolved.

  * * *

  She must have fallen asleep, because when she woke, O’Halloran was withdrawing himself from her body by slow increments. He eased his weight off her fully and left the bed. Shivering a little at the loss of his body heat and the cool air-conditioning flowing over her damp skin, she dragged the coverlet over her.

  She heard O’Halloran’s voice as he spoke to someone on his cell. Minutes later, he returned and slid into bed with her.

  “That was Farrell. They couldn’t match the prints with anyone from the security company.”

  Even though she was sleepy, her brain automatically clicked into investigative gear. “What about associate firms? Suppliers?”

  �
��Farrell’s got a list. That’s what I was doing last night. The checking is going to take some legwork.”

  She yawned and blinked as an idea popped into her head. “What about the list of registration plate names? There were a couple of companies listed.”

  O’Halloran shook his head. “You should have been a cop. One of the companies is a security wholesaler. Farrell’s getting a warrant and putting together a team. That should be a go in an hour or so.”

  Now wide-awake, Jenna watched as O’Halloran pulled on dark pants and, not bothering with a shirt, walked back out to the lounge. She listened to his deep, cool voice as he made another series of calls.

  After a while, tiredness caught up with her and she drifted into a light doze. The next time she woke, O’Halloran was sliding back into bed. Pleasure hummed through her at the sheer, comfortable intimacy of having him in bed with her. It was something she could get used to. “Did you make progress?”

  “Some.”

  The neutral tone to his voice, the subtle distance, informed her that the breakthrough was significant.

  As hard as she tried to keep it at bay, a tension she didn’t want to feel crept up on her, dissolving the warm bubble of happiness she had been inhabiting ever since they’d made love.

  She should be happy for them both. Her stalker would be put behind bars, and O’Halloran would find Natalie and Jared’s killer. They would both have closure.

  While she knew that O’Halloran’s distance was just a part of him she had to accept, a knee-jerk reaction after years of keeping details of investigations confidential, she couldn’t help but resent the barrier it represented. Just when she had managed to get a tiny piece of his attention, the investigation was taking him from her, but she wasn’t about to give up without a fight.

  Rolling on her side, she ran a hand over his torso and chest. Lifting up on her elbows, her hair falling in a curtain around her face, she dipped her head into the muscular curve of his neck, and breathed in his scent, then explored lower.