Lover Undercover

chapter Eleven


Kylie sat on the leather sofa in Trevor’s sun-dappled living room and coached herself through some deep, calming breaths. He sat directly in front of her on his sturdy wooden coffee table, his elbows resting on his thighs, his knees nearly brushing hers. Patiently, he waited for her to say something.

His plan was simple really—at least her part. Risk-wise, it was all on him.

“Where will Ian be?” she asked, amazed her voice sounded so steady when her heart threatened to pound its way through her chest.

“Parking lot, unless I give him a signal to close in. I can’t have him too close. We want to give our guy an opportunity to make a move. He’ll go for me in the parking lot,” Trevor said, all calm, confident cop.

“What if he doesn’t? If he doesn’t go for you at all, I mean. Then are you done?” She couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice.

“Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it.”

“That’s no answer.”

“You want me to say we’ll give up? We can’t, Kylie.” Frustration vibrated from him. “There’s a murderer roaming free. You want me to say we’ll switch me out, put another detective undercover instead and see if the killer takes the new bait? Would you like that better, giving another detective private dances?” The frustration swelled to something she couldn’t readily identify…something sharp and dangerous.

She looked down at the space between their knees, and then let herself get distracted by the way his soft, wash-worn jeans molded his thighs. She’d promised honesty, so she would give it to him. “In some ways, yes.”

After a pregnant pause, he asked, “Why me?”

Confused, she raised her eyes to his. “Why you…what?” Although after seeing his expression, she was afraid she knew.

“Why me last night? You’ve waited all this time, probably declined countless men.”

Yep, that’s what she’d been afraid he meant. “There really haven’t been countless men,” she offered lamely.

Those dark, penetrating eyes held hers. “Why me?” he repeated quietly.

Honesty, she reminded herself. “Because I wanted to, um”—she cringed a little and rushed on—“get you out of my system.”

For a moment he just stared at her. Then the side of his mouth kicked up in the lopsided smile—his jaded, can’t-be-disappointed smile. “Like a virus, huh?”

“No.” She reached over and placed a hand on his hard, muscular thigh, and squeezed as if through touch she could somehow explain what she couldn’t fully articulate in her own head. “Like something I shouldn’t get used to. Like something that feels real because of the situation, but probably has more to do with hormones and adrenaline and some pretty intense circumstances.”

Talking about it definitely wasn’t helping. Emotions tangled in her chest, and words just kept tumbling out of her mouth. “Like something that wasn’t meant for me in the first place—not the real me.”

Oh God, you actually used the phrase “the real me.” Stop now. She sprang to her feet. “I have to go.”

Trevor got to his feet as well, and stood close, kind of trapping her between the sofa, the coffee table, and the big, muscular barrier of his body. With every warning about eye contact Stacy had ever given her screaming through her mind, she looked up at him.

The lopsided smile still lingered, but now there was a hint of amusement in those see-all eyes. “You think I don’t know the difference between Stacy and you?”

“No. I just…” Just what? Impatient with herself, feeling trapped, she spun and stalked around the other side of the coffee table and headed to the front door. He beat her there. Ever the Boy Scout, he opened and held it for her. The fact that he was clearly holding back a laugh ruined the gallantry of the gesture, in her opinion, and suddenly she wanted to kick him. Her. Saint Kylie.

“I don’t even know me anymore, Trevor. There’s no way you do.” Proof in point, she barely recognized the testy voice coming out of her mouth.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” he replied in his maddeningly confident tone.

“The time you kissed me at the station, I was honest when I told you I wasn’t at a place in my life where I could date.”

“Maybe ’cause at that particular place in your life you were lying to me and pretending to be Stacy? I think we’re past that now—”

“Hard as this is to believe, not every decision in my life is motivated by Stacy. It only seems that way to you because you don’t know me—you know me pretending to be Stacy. But news flash, Trevor, she’s not the only one with big dreams. I’ve got ambitions too. Teaching yoga isn’t some hobby for me. I study hard so I can offer the best, most innovative classes available, build a loyal clientele, and, when the time is right, open my own studio. If I’m going to achieve these goals, I’ve got to focus. I can’t let myself get distracted and pulled offtrack by my personal life.”

She didn’t know what reaction she’d expected from him, but his rumbling, deep-chested laugh wasn’t it.

“I’m glad you think the notion of me having goals is such a gut-buster,” she said, and battled another urge to kick him. Hard.

Eventually he got his laughter under control. “Kylie, I’m flattered you think I could be such a huge distraction, but when it comes to people in your life who might get in the way of your goals, you’d better look a little bit closer to home. I can guaran-f*cking-tee I’ll never ask you to drop everything, pretend to be me, and do my job for two months.”

That he had a point—and she knew it—only made her madder. But Stacy wasn’t a choice, damn it, she was family. Getting involved with a man, on the other hand, was strictly an option, and an unwise one for a woman like her. Relationships, with all their compromises and demands, had an insidious way of sucking the independence and drive right out of some women. Her mom demonstrated that on a regular basis. Kylie already felt that same weakness in her own heart, that same neediness, when it came to Trevor, which scared her right down to her bones.

Terrified, and furious with herself, she struggled for a dignified escape. “I see no reason to continue this argument, conversation…whatever it is.” Head high, she brushed past him, walked out of the house, and strode to the Bug. She slammed the door and got as far as putting her shaking hands on the wheel before someone tapped the driver’s side window. Turning, she saw Trevor there, his arms braced on the roof of the car, looking at her. He made a rolling motion with his index finger, and then crouched down so their faces were level when she lowered her window.

The vapor trail of a smile still lingered on his lips, causing her to snap, “What?”

“How’d it work?”

“How’d what work?”

“The whole ‘getting me out of your system’ strategy.”

She blinked. Tough week for an honesty pledge. “I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell.”

“Hmm.” Straightening, but still angling his head in her window, he tapped the roof of the car and smiled. “Fair enough. Do me a favor, okay?”

“Depends. What’s the—?”

He leaned in and cut her off by covering her mouth with his. He claimed it, branded it, and owned it before she could so much as finish her question. When he raised his head, she blindly chased after his retreating lips until the car door stopped her pursuit.

“Keep me posted,” he said. Then he grinned and strolled back toward the house.

…

Kylie made it all the way back to her apartment before admitting, so far, it wasn’t going well at all. She walked in, realized Stacy wasn’t home yet, and immediately burst into tears.

Covering her face with her hands, she sat down on the sofa and gave in to the stress, fear, and powerlessness of the morning’s ordeal for several moments, allowing her sobs to build and release like waves crashing on a beach. If letting emotions out was cathartic, she was in the midst of a tremendously cathartic experience. But then it got a little scary, because she couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Get moving. Do something. Tears still flowing, she got up and dragged herself to Stacy’s room to find her costume for tonight’s shift at Deuces. Amid the clutter of her sister’s closet she searched out the pieces of the “slutty schoolgirl” outfit, stopping every few moments to swipe at her wet cheeks. While she was at it, maybe she could find some positive, affirming thoughts to get her through the evening.

The sound of the front door opening brought her to a halt. Voices followed, along with the telltale thump of Stacy’s cast crossing the wooden floors.

Through the back wall of the closet, she heard her sister’s voice.

“Thank you for seeing me home all safe and sound, Detective.”

“No problem,” came a lazy, familiar drawl in reply. Ian’s voice. “Is your sister home?”

Some more thumping followed as Stacy came down the hall and stopped outside the bedrooms. “Doesn’t look like it. Both cars are parked out front, but she might have walked down to the store or the Laundromat. She’s funny that way—likes to walk instead of drive. Says it clears her head.”

“After spending the morning holed up in a police interview room, I’ll bet her head could use some clearing,” Ian replied. He was much closer now. It sounded like they were both standing in the hallway between the two bedrooms.

She knew she should speak up, but the thought of emerging from Stacy’s closet, all tear-drenched and pathetic, held her back. Ian would tell Trevor he’d found her hiding in a closet, sobbing her eyes out. No, she’d wait until he left. Stacy would understand if she explained she hadn’t wanted to deal with another cop.

“I know my head could use some clearing, Detective.” Stacy’s voice increased in volume as she thumped into the bedroom. It had also taken on a seductive note. Inwardly, Kylie groaned.

“You want to go for a walk?” Ian asked.

“No, no.” Bedsprings squeaked as someone dropped onto the mattress. Kylie didn’t need even two guesses to know who. “I prefer to clear my head with a slightly different activity. It works best when I have a partner helping me—a strong, able-bodied partner.”

“That so?” Ian’s voice sounded a little thick now. The rustle of fabric and tiny pop of a knee joint suggested he’d crouched down. Kylie’s heart sank. Oh, no…this is not happening.

“Yes. Would you be the man for the job, Ian? Let me show you what it entails before you decide.” More rustling. More springs creaking. The snap of a bra clasp followed by Stacy’s throaty moan. “See, you’re already so helpful.”

“Hmm,” Ian agreed, clearly talking with his mouth full. “And you’re straight up beautiful, as you know.” His voice trailed off and the sound of busy lips sucking and kissing abundant flesh filled the room.

“Oh, honey. My toes curl when you do that. The girls are begging for more.”

“Lie back and get comfortable. I’m about to clear your head.”

The mattress squeaked some more.

“Perfect. I don’t want to hurt your leg, Stacy. Can I—?” Stacy’s groan contained not a hint of pain. “I’m just going to prop this one up here on my shoulder.”

His “How’s that?” sounded distinctly muffled, but Stacy’s “Sweet heaven” rang out loud and clear.

For the next few moments, Kylie counted her sister’s disarrayed shoes and tried to ignore the noises coming from the next room. Stacy’s inarticulate but increasingly desperate moans were hard to block out.

Finally, Ian’s voice cut in. “You’re going to pull my hair right out of my scalp if you keep that up.”

“Inside me,” Stacy ordered. “Right now. Condoms are in the night table.” Her imperious tone gave way to another pleading moan when the wet sound of a busy tongue was the only reply to her demand.

“Inside me,” she panted again.

“Uh-uh. This is about clearing your head. Mine’s pretty clear already. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Apparently true, because in the next second, the bedsprings sang, and Stacy’s long, agonized, and profoundly ecstatic cry of relief reverberated through the entire apartment. Possibly the entire building.

Silence followed, broken by the occasional sound of lips against skin and, eventually, the mattress groaning under the weight of a second body.

“You okay? Your leg—?”

“God, sweetie. I’m better than okay. My leg is fine, hasn’t felt this good in weeks. Give me one second and then I’ll take care of you.”

“Relax. I’ll take a rain check.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard.”

“Well, sorry, Detective, but you’ve got the wrong idea. I don’t issue rain checks. This is a onetime offer.”

The mattress creaked again as bodies moved. Someone got up from the bed. “Nah, I don’t think so. See, Stacy, I’m onto you. Whether you know it or not, you’re trying to pin me into a catch-22. You won’t trust a man unless you can lead him around by his dick. But as soon as you can, you lose respect and interest. Me, I plan on holding your interest.”

“That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. For the record, I’m not the least bit interested, and your dick just missed out on the best ten minutes of its sad little life.”

“We’ll see.”

Kylie couldn’t quite suppress a smile at how confident he sounded. Then her eyes rounded as he went on. “Just to establish some all-important trust, I’ll admit my dick is begging to be led around by you, particularly at the moment. But, you know what? Over the next day or so, you’re going to realize you’ve got a few parts wishing for my lead. When you do, you call me and I’ll come back for that rain check. But when you make the call, know you’re not just offering up your body. You’re exploring body, mind, and soul with me, and it’s sure as hell going to take more than ten minutes.”

“You’re insane. Get out.”

“I’m simply telling you so you’ll be prepared. Don’t worry when you can’t clear me out of your head. Just pick up the phone. I’ll be waiting.” His footsteps vibrated along the floorboards as he crossed to the door.

“You’ll die waiting,” Stacy yelled.

“I’ll die laughing,” he shot back.

“Get ouuuuut!” A loud crash sounded against the far wall, indicating Stacy had thrown something—something breakable.

“Gotta work on that temper,” he chided. “I know it’s tough on you, not getting exactly what you think you want, exactly when you want it. Trust me, Stacy, it’s all going to work out.”

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by the click of the front door closing.

The bed creaked again, and then Stacy thumped toward the closet, muttering under her breath. “Of all the conceited, egotistical…” The closet door flew open and Kylie helpfully held out Stacy’s robe.

Stacy’s mouth dropped open, but before she could scream bloody murder, Kylie stepped forward and took her sister’s arms. “It’s me.”

With a hand to her chest, Stacy released her breath and sagged against her for a moment. “Oh my God, Kylie. What the hell are you doing in there?” Then a rare thing happened. Red bloomed in Stacy’s face, flushed down her neck and chest. “Did you overhear—?”

Kylie cringed and nodded. “I’m sorry. Really sorry. I know I should have spoken up when you first got home, but I was in here digging out my costume for tonight and, well, having kind of a tough moment. I started to call out to you, but then I heard Ian. I just couldn’t handle another interaction with LAPD’s finest today, so I decided to stay put until he left. I didn’t realize I’d be stuck in here while…while you…and he…well, mostly you I guess…”

Stacy shrugged into her robe and yanked the tie snug around her waist. “Yeah, mostly me. What an a*shole. An idiot, really, considering he could have left here happy and satisfied, but instead chose to walk off with a boner the size of the Hollywood sign in his pants and some crazy ideas in his head.” She shook her head and sighed. “And he seemed so normal, too. I swear, just when I think I understand men…”

“Maybe all men aren’t alike?”

Stacy snorted inelegantly. “All the ones attracted to me are, so I don’t know what Ian’s trying to pull with his mind, body, and soul bull. I’ve known all along my mind and soul didn’t measure up.”

“What a thing to say! Why would you believe that?”

Her twin shrugged. “Gosh, Ky, let’s see…in sixth grade I asked to try out for the advanced reading class, because as far as I could tell, I read as fast and as well as any of us, but Mrs. Crabtree said one Roberts in advanced reading was enough. I realized then and there, any investment in a Roberts twin’s mind wasn’t going to be mine.”

Astonishment flooded her, and then a belated blast of anger for her sister. “I’m sorry. Mrs. Crabtree should have let you try out. If I’d known you wanted to, I would have backed you up, but you never said anything to me. I always assumed you weren’t interested in school.”

“I wasn’t much after that. Then, in twelfth grade, when Mr. Hicks told me the only way I’d get a passing grade in geometry was to give him a blow job, it kind of cemented things for me.”

Oh, God. “That’s why you dropped out.”

“It certainly factored in.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone? Mr. Hicks should have been fired. And arrested!”

“Who says I didn’t tell someone? I was scared, and certain nobody on earth would believe me, except maybe you, but finally, I figured God would know the truth, so I told Father Flannery. You know what he said to me?”

Kylie shook her head, but fingers of dread reached low in the belly and squeezed.

“He said my tongue would turn as black as my soul if I didn’t stop speaking such ugly lies about a fine upstanding man and a deacon of the church.” She waved her hand carelessly, as if brushing off an inconsequential memory, but Kylie heard the bitterness in her twin’s voice.

“I don’t know what to say. I wish I’d known. I would have tried to help.”

Stacy offered a resigned smile. “You couldn’t do anything. They would have torn you down too if you’d tried. Anyway, it didn’t really matter. By then I knew what I wanted to do with my life, and I didn’t need my high school degree to do it. My soul goes into performing, and people say it’s good. Even dancing at Deuces is fulfilling in its own way. It’s challenging.”

“I know,” Kylie quickly agreed, “and also really hard work. I have a new respect for you after walking in your stilettos these last two weeks.”

“Nice of you to say, but I don’t pretend to be the respectable twin.”

Kylie sighed, realizing she and Stacy had more in common than she’d ever suspected. Inside, they bore similar scars, in different places. They were both fighting to overcome the insecurities inflicted from their wonderful upbringing.

“You know, Stacy…growing up, I always wanted to be more like you. I longed to be the brave, fun, free twin.”

Stacy’s eyes widened. “I always wanted to be like you. I admired you for being so smart, sensitive, and disciplined. You never gave in to impulse, never acted out, and never, ever lost control.”

“The control is an illusion,” she whispered. “I’m losing it, big time.”

Stacy slowly inspected her face. The corners of her mouth tipped up in a smile. “Better late than never, Saint Kylie.”