Lay Down the Law Read online

  “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said.

  “It’ll wait.”

  For an instant she was tempted to ignore him, and get in the car and drive away. Of course, she didn’t. Erin had never been one to run away from her problems. So why did she feel the quiver of the fight-or-flight instinct every time Nick got near her?

  She didn’t turn to face him when he came up behind her and stopped. “You want to tell me what that was all about?” he demanded.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Why don’t you turn around and look at me?”

  Unduly humiliated, she swiped at the tears with her sleeve. “I said I was sorry, Nick. What else do you want?”

  “I’m just trying to understand you. I don’t have a clue why you bought Steph that ball. Why don’t you help me out?”

  Slowly, Erin turned. Raising her chin, she met his gaze. “I gave her that basketball because I want her to know she’s strong and capable and doesn’t have to stop living just because she’s in a wheelchair.”

  “She can barely stand, McNeal. How on earth is she supposed to play basketball?”

  “It’s called wheelchair basketball, Nick. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it.”

  “She’s not ready for that.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m her father,” he said. “I know what she’s been through. I know what she can handle.”

  “She’s ready, Nick. She’ll eventually do it whether you’re ready to accept it or not. She can do a lot of things you don’t seem to be ready to accept. Once she realizes it, you’d better learn to deal with it, because she’s not going to stop.” The words came out in a rush. Harsh. Damning. So true her chest ached with the need to prove to him she was right.

  His eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I spent two months coaching disabled children. Wheelchair basketball. Therapeutic horseback riding. Marathon racing. The kids love it. They love it! I’ve seen their faces light up. Their confidence bounce back. Their outlook on life improve dramatically.” Shaken by her own words and the emotion barreling through her, Erin broke off. She’d said too much, she knew, but once the words had started flowing, she hadn’t been able to stop.

  Nick stared at her. “Stephanie is still adjusting. She’s…fragile. Not only physically, but emotionally. I won’t risk her getting hurt again.”

  “At what cost to her?”

  His face darkened. “You’re crossing a line you don’t want to cross, McNeal.”

  “I’m good at crossing lines, Chief. That’s what I do best. For future reference, you should keep that in mind.”

  “You’re reckless not only with your physical safety but with that smart mouth of yours.”

  “You asked, Chief. I’m telling you what I think. You’re smothering that child—”

  “She needs to be protected.”

  “She needs to live her life to the fullest extent, risks be damned.”

  “Recklessness is what put her in that chair to begin with!” Nick moved toward her, his jaw set. “I won’t let it happen again, so back off!”

  His words and the anger behind them stopped her cold. Erin stood there trembling, breathing hard, wondering what Pandora’s box of pain she’d opened inside him.

  As if realizing he was clinging to control by little more than a thread, Nick turned away abruptly. Walking to the front of the car, he put his hands on the hood and lowered his head.

  For several long minutes the only sound came from the chirping of crickets. Erin leaned against the car door, shaken, aware that her heart was beating too fast. She wanted to tell him about the weeks she’d spent doing volunteer work at the Quest Foundation, an agency that specialized in helping disabled children adjust. But he was so angry she wasn’t sure it would make any difference.

  Shoving away from the car, he straightened. Erin heard him sigh, then he approached her. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It’s all right. This is none of my business—”

  “I lost my temper. It’s not the first time, and it’s definitely not all right.” He bit out an oath, then gave her a canny look. “Stephanie is everything to me, McNeal. Everything. I love her more than life. She’s been through hell in the last three years. I don’t want her hurt again. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep that from happening.”

  His eyes were the color of midnight, and so tortured Erin wanted to reach out and touch him, just to let him know he wasn’t alone, even if she knew he wouldn’t believe it.

  “I know you only want what’s best for her,” she said.

  “That includes keeping her safe.”

  “Nick, I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m just…”

  “Impulsive?” One side of his mouth hiked into a half smile.

  “It’s not the first time I’ve been accused of that.” Erin let out the breath she’d been holding, relieved that he’d purposefully quelled the tension between them. “How did she end up in the wheelchair?”

  Nick waited so long before answering that for a moment Erin thought he wouldn’t answer at all. When he did, his voice was so low she had to lean forward to hear him.

  “A car accident three years ago. My wife was killed. Stephanie received a spinal injury. She spent two weeks in intensive care.”

  He looked out across the lawn, into the darkness. Even in profile, Erin saw the tight clench of his jaw and the raw emotion in the depths of his eyes. Her heart went out to him as she watched him struggle for words.

  “Two weeks later, I had to look into those innocent eyes of hers and tell her she might not ever walk again. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” His laugh held no humor. “All she was worried about was whether or not she’d be able to take care of Bandito. That from a little girl who lived for basketball and horse shows, and who’d just lost her mother. Her courage humbles me.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick. I know that must have been tough.” The words didn’t seem adequate.

  “Yeah, McNeal, me, too. She’s a terrific kid.”

  “I know.” Erin longed to reach out to him. To touch that strong jaw. Run her fingers over his shoulders until they were no longer rigid. To relax the clenching of his fists by taking his hands in hers. But she didn’t do any of those things because she knew that wasn’t what he needed.

  His eyes met hers. Even under the cover of darkness, she felt exposed beneath that heady gaze. She wanted to tell him that disabled children could ride horses with the help of special equipment and adult spotters, but something told her now wasn’t the time. His emotions were too close to the surface, and she knew he didn’t want them prodded.

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Erin gave him that time, knowing he needed it, not sure how she would react if the strong man she’d come to respect broke down. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to do the right thing if he did. The urge to touch him was too powerful, and at the moment she was feeling downright weak.

  “Is there a possibility she could walk at some point in the future?” she asked.

  “She’s had two operations already. Her neurosurgeon seems optimistic.”

  “What about pain?”

  “Thank God it’s minor and can be controlled with anti-inflammatory drugs, for the most part,” he said. “She has some feeling and a little strength in her left leg. But in the last six months, she’s developed a rare post-traumatic condition called syringomyelia.”

  “One of the kids I worked with up in Chicago had the same condition. It’s where a tumor forms at an injury site or surgical site, right?”

  His gaze sharpened, and Erin knew he hadn’t expected her to be familiar with the condition. “Most people haven’t even heard of it.”

  “There’s an operation—”

  “Laminectomy and duraplasty.” Nick grimaced. “The procedure’s untested. Risky.”

  “What kind of risks?”

  His mouth curved into that half sm
ile again. “Ah, McNeal, you’re getting really predictable.”

  “Best case scenario,” she pressed.

  “Best case, Stephanie would regain feeling in her legs and be able to start physical therapy immediately. Worst case scenario is that the formation of scar tissue or further spinal cord damage could cause further paralysis. It could significantly lower her quality of life, possibly even her life expectancy. If we leave it be, she might eventually regain enough feeling to use a walker one day.”

  Erin absorbed the words, wondering what she would do if faced with the same devastating dilemma. “You’re willing to settle for that?”

  “I nearly lost her once.” Nick looked across the driveway to where Bandito grazed next to the fence. “I won’t risk losing her again.”

  * * *

  Nick wasn’t sure why he’d opened up to Erin. Maybe because he sensed she somehow understood, when most people couldn’t. Maybe it was the fact that she, too, was no stranger to tragedy. Maybe that kinship was what kept bringing them together.

  It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone about the accident that had turned his life—and his daughter’s life—upside down. He didn’t like to talk about the dark months that followed, preferring to keep that era of his life buried. He’d spent months grieving. The kind of black grief that came with the loss of a soul mate. Grief he’d kept bottled because he couldn’t stand the thought of the poison inside him leaching out and affecting Stephanie.

  Shoving thoughts of the past aside, Nick gazed at Erin. She leaned against the car, staring out across the lawn toward the pasture, where he could hear Bandito nipping the grass.

  “I’m sorry I came down on you so hard,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”

  “You know, Chief, I’m starting to get used to you yelling at me.”

  She elbowed him lightly, and he knew she was trying to dispel the high emotion of just a few minutes earlier. For that, he found himself unduly grateful.

  “I didn’t know you had worked with disabled kids,” he said after a moment. “That’s commendable.”

  “The Quest Foundation works with all types of disabled children. Head injuries. Spinal injuries. Down’s syndrome. Muscular dystrophy. A few months after the shooting, I volunteered and spent a couple of months coaching wheelchair basketball. Teenagers mostly. A couple of times I went out to the equestrian center and spotted young riders. To say the experience was eye-opening would be an understatement.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Nick, those kids loved the horses! I guess it’s the same concept as bringing dogs into cancer wards and retirement homes. Like dogs, horses have an incredibly positive effect on kids.”

  “You coached wheelchair basketball and yet the sight of Steph’s wheelchair still affected you when you first saw her.”

  “It wasn’t the wheelchair.”

  “What was it, then?”

  Her teeth scraped over her lower lip. “Seeing the wheelchair made me…remember. The shooting. And Danny.”

  “Flashbacks?”

  Blowing out a sigh, she nodded.

  “Ah, McNeal.” Lowering his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Post-traumatic stress?” he asked after a moment.

  “Survivor’s guilt is what the department psychiatrist called it. I had nightmares, sleeplessness. A lot of guilt that just wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  “That’s why you volunteered.”

  She smiled, but there was no humor in it. “After living through something like that, I needed to give something back. The psychiatrist recommended this agency.”

  “Did it help?”

  “It got me through some tough months. For a while, I even made a difference. I made some of those kids smile. You know, Chief, I can be quite a clown when I put my mind to it.”

  The thought elicited a smile from him. “I’ll bet.”

  “But it didn’t take long for me to realize I couldn’t hack it. It just sucked too much energy out of me, and brought on too many flashbacks of the shooting. I know that sounds selfish, but after a while I just couldn’t do it anymore. Those beautiful children who’d been hurt so terribly, facing so much difficulty…”

  “You weren’t selfish. Human, maybe. But the bottom line is you did it. You made a difference. That’s what’s important.”

  Hearing a sigh shudder out of her, Nick studied her silhouette. His throat constricted when he saw the glimmer of tears on her cheeks. Had he caused that?

  Ignoring the swirl of panic in his gut, he stepped away from the car and turned to her. Putting his finger under her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “What’s with the tears, McNeal?”

  “I’m sure you’ll have a hard time believing this, but I never cry.”

  “I’m sorry I seem to be so good at making you.” The urge to comfort was surprisingly strong, his resistance damnably weak. He was standing so close he could smell the familiar scent of her hair mingling with the sweetness of her breath. The light from a three-quarter moon illuminated her features just enough to let him see the caution in her eyes and the shape of her mouth. Sweet mercy, he wanted to kiss her.

  Nick brushed his thumb over her cheek, catching a tear. He knew touching her was a mistake. Just as he knew holding her now would be a mistake that would lead to certain disaster. Everything inside him screamed for him to turn around and walk away. If he got involved with her in any way, she would wreak havoc on his life. But there was no way he could stand back and watch her cry while he did nothing.

  Something powerful and fundamental stirred low in his gut. He didn’t even bother to fight it. He didn’t dare name it. He was tired of fighting when it came to this woman, tired of resisting what was quickly getting the best of him. She’d stripped him bare tonight, and he’d allowed it. What was one comforting embrace? One kiss between friends?

  Nick figured he was getting pretty good at rationalizing.

  “Come here,” he whispered.

  Her startled gaze met his. “You know what happened the last time we tried this.”

  “Yeah, and if I remember correctly, it was pretty damn good.”

  He didn’t wait for her. Stepping closer, he cupped her face with his hands. He felt softness and tears. Smelled the enticing scent he’d dreamed about too many times in the last few days.

  Shock registered on her face, but he didn’t care. She wasn’t the only one he’d shocked. He was most certainly shocking himself, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him, either.

  Backing her against the car, Nick drew her mouth to his with slow deliberation. She didn’t close her eyes, and he saw them widen, heard her quick intake of breath, felt his own catch in his throat.

  One moment she was as rigid as a board, the next like melted honey in his arms. Nick felt her go fluid as he coaxed her lips into submission. He opened his mouth and used his tongue, daring her to accept him. With a small sound deep in her throat, she parted her lips and welcomed him in.

  Something hot and urgent broke open inside him, unleashing a part of him he’d kept bottled up for so long. Need and lust and something else he didn’t want to name sprang free.

  He deepened the kiss, using his tongue, tasting the farthest reaches of her mouth. Her body felt lush and soft against his. Frustration burned in his groin as he pressed against her, but the contact only made him want more.

  He heard a sound, realized he’d growled low in his throat. She shifted closer and another jab of lust arrowed through him. His hands slipped from her face, grazing her shoulders, stopping at her breasts. Her gasp ended in a groan when he cupped her through her uniform shirt. She arched into him, and Nick’s control teetered. His fingers went to the buttons. He fumbled, cursing silently when he realized his hands were trembling. One button sprang free. His overzealous fingers popped the next two. Then his hands were inside her shirt, seeking flesh, touching lace and softness and woman.

  Her breasts were firm and round and high. Nick cupped her through her bra, marveling at her softness.
He brushed his thumbs over the hardened peaks of her nipples. She shivered. He wanted to feel her flesh, warm and supple beneath his hands. He wanted to put his mouth on her.

  Two more buttons went by the wayside. He struggled to find her bra clasp. Not in front. He slipped his arms around her. No rear closure. Frustration and a tinge of embarrassment pounded through him. “What kind of bra is this?” he whispered.

  “Uh, athletic…”

  Nick didn’t hear the rest of her response. Tugging the bra up over her breasts, he leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth. Erin cried out, arching, giving him full access. Her response splintered the remainder of his restraint. Caution shattered. He knew he was out of control, but she was so exquisite, so responsive, he gladly relinquished it, refusing to think of the consequences, of what he might be risking.

  He didn’t remember closing his eyes. All his brain registered was that she was against him, and he was hard and pulsing and so ready he thought he might end it all right then and there. The realization stunned him, thrilled him. For the first time in years, he felt alive. Whole. On fire and burning out of control—

  “Chief?”

  The voice reached him as if through a fog. An instant later, recognition exploded in his brain. Stephanie’s nanny, for Pete’s sake! Nick scrambled back. Erin turned away in an attempt to conceal her state of undress. Shaken, dangerously aroused and more embarrassed than he’d been since the time in his teens when he got caught making out in the back seat of his mother’s car, he faced Mrs. Thornsberry.

  CHAPTER 7

  “What is it, Em?” Nick winced at the sound of his voice. Hoarse, breathless, it sounded as if he’d swallowed a chunk of concrete.

  The older woman stood twenty feet away, her hands on her hips, looking at him as if he’d just landed his spaceship at the end of the driveway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said primly.

  Nick didn’t move. He couldn’t get any closer, not without her noticing his state of arousal. “You didn’t interrupt anything,” he said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Uncomfortable, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “McNeal and I were just talking.”