Strategically Wed Read online

  “Here’s the drawer.” He fumbled around. “Found the flashlight. Let’s pray the batteries are charged.”

  Fortunately they were. As soon as he pressed the button, a narrow stream of light flooded the kitchen area. “Now let’s see if there’s any matches. Hey, even better, a lighter.”

  He lit the two candles he’d found. Dragging his injured leg, he managed to place one lit candle on the counter before bringing the other one to the end table next to the couch.

  The wavery light illuminated Maggie’s pinched features. Some of the terror had faded from her face but not entirely. Her shoulders shivered.

  Griff found the crutch he’d dropped and propelled himself toward the bedroom. He snagged the comforter from the bed and returned to Maggie.

  Gently wrapping the bedding around her, he sat down next to her on the sofa bed. “Doozy of a storm, isn’t it? Must have a major cold front swooping down from the Arctic colliding head-on with that Gulf Stream warm front. Could get some hail—”

  His words were drowned out by a noise that sounded like millions of pebbles pounding against the windows and roof.

  Maggie’s head pressed into his shoulder, her body shaking rivaled the rattling of the windows.

  Griff kept talking about clouds, weather patterns and seasonal transitions, not hearing the words he spoke. He just wanted to drown out the noise and still the shivering woman in his arms.

  He’d never been known for his bedside manner. If anything, he tended to be too brusque and overbearing. But that’s not what Maggie needed. He listened to his gut and kept a steady recitation.

  The woman in his arms pressed closer to him. He responded by pulling her tighter to him.

  As quickly as the storm came up, it died away. When the last ping of rain hit the window pane, Maggie turned her face from his sleeve and leaned against him with a heavy sigh.

  “Glad that’s over. It sounded like we were in a popcorn popper,” Griff commented dryly.

  Maggie sat up, separating herself from him, and Griff’s arms felt strangely bereft at her withdrawal.

  She managed to produce a self-conscious laugh. “You must think I’m a sap.”

  He shook his head. “Saps don’t aim strong right hooks at their comforters.”

  Her gaze darted toward him and then away again. “Is that what you were trying to do? Comfort me?”

  It was a good thing it was dark, and she couldn’t see the flush working its way across his jawbone. “Not much good at it, am I?”

  She surprised him by reaching over and squeezing his good hand. “It worked for me.”

  She released his hand and abruptly dashed the tears with the back of her hand. “The electricity didn’t come back on.”

  “I should check the breaker. The switch might have popped.”

  He didn’t move, however.

  Griff had to struggle not to pull Maggie back into his arms.

  What would she do if he did?

  Holding her had ignited the sexual hungers that had been tormenting him since they’d arrived. Oddly, he hadn’t been thinking about sex when he’d held her. He’d only wanted to soothe her fears.

  Now he wanted something to reaffirm the feelings tossing inside him. He wanted to stake a physical claim.

  It was only through sheer force that he kept from acting out his sudden need.

  Thankfully, Maggie slid to the end of the bed and stood up. She walked across the room and peered out the window. “Why do you know so much about the weather?”

  Her attempt at a neutral subject made him frown. Had he been the only one to notice the sensual tug of war between them?

  He wanted her to…

  To what? Leap back into his arms so they could make passionate love?

  Hell yes. That’s exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he didn’t need.

  Even in the dimly lit room he could see the outline of Maggie’s rigid back.

  Maggie had been smart to pull away.

  He leaned back against the sofa and clasped his good hand behind his head and forced himself to contemplate her question. “One of my foster fathers was a weatherman,” he said. “I wanted to be just like him, so I learned everything I could to impress him. Now it’s sort of a hobby.”

  Maggie turned toward him. “You were in a foster home?”

  “I lived with seven different foster families.”

  She returned to the edge of the bed. “What happened to your real family?”

  The tension that had tormented him a few minutes earlier shifted.

  Griff didn’t like talking about his childhood. But he was the one who had opened this door. He lowered his hand. “I never knew my dad. My mom and I moved around a lot until I was five years old. A social worker showed up one day and insisted I go to school. When I arrived home, my mother was gone. I lived on my own for a week before anyone noticed. From then on, I was shuffled from place to place.”

  Maggie sat down next to his plastered leg. All the terror had evaporated from her face. “You never had a real home of your own.”

  Telling her about his childhood wasn’t as difficult as he feared. “I learned to live light and to always keep a suitcase handy. BJ was the only person who never walked away.”

  Guilt niggled at Maggie. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You weren’t the one who walked out the door.”

  “I hated you and begrudged you Dad’s friendship.”

  “If BJ had been my father, I would have reacted the same way you did. I was a convenient target.”

  “That doesn’t excuse bad behavior. My problems with Dad weren’t your fault. I had no right to blame you for something that never had a thing to do with you.”

  “What caused your nightmare, Maggie?” he asked.

  His change of subject brought Maggie up short. She looked down at her fingers, which had coiled into fists. “I don’t remember. It was a bad dream.”

  “Did it have anything to do with Dwight Conrad?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Then what?”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Let’s just forget it.”

  “Hey, you owe me something.”

  “What?”

  “I told you about my murky past.”

  He made the words light but Maggie knew that he hadn’t wanted to tell her about his mother. What person wanted to admit he’d been abandoned? Griff would never want to sound weak or needy.

  She found herself pulled. Part of her wanted to continue to keep her secrets to herself. The other part wanted to share the burdens she’d shouldered for as long as she could remember. Her inner skirmish was short-lived. Griff’s pain was every bit as wounding as hers.

  She swallowed, pushing back her fear of being vulnerable to this man. “I’ve been afraid of storms ever since I was eight years old.”

  “What happened when you were eight?”

  “Dad was on duty. I usually stayed at the neighbor’s while he was working. One day the neighbor’s mother got sick and was rushed to the hospital. Since it was only a half an hour before my dad was to come home, I said I could stay home by myself. She called Dad to tell him. But before he arrived, a tornado ripped through the neighborhood and wiped out two houses next to ours.” Maggie’s arms enclosed her midsection as she recalled her fear and the awful howl of the wind.

  “You weren’t hurt?”

  “Not in any way you could see. But I’m the biggest baby whenever there’s a storm. Dad couldn’t understand it.”

  The slight catch in Maggie’s voice made Griff flinch. He hated ripping the scabs from her scars. “Your dad loved you more than life itself.”

  “I just wish that could have been enough.” She lifted her chin, as if trying to shake off her sudden depression. “You said you know something about circuit breakers.”

  She’d given them the perfect opportunity to move on. Griff considered her clenched hands.

  He couldn’t allow it. He had to break down the barrier she had erected,
even though he, of all people, knew how important it was for her to be strong and keep in control.

  The temptation to let her keep her secrets was stronger than it should have been. Griff forced himself to keep on task and press for the answers he needed. “What about Conrad, Maggie? Why did Wylie ask you about him?”

  “Dwight Conrad has nothing to do with this.”

  “We don’t know anything for sure. If there’s even a small chance that he shot me, then I need to know.”

  Maggie looked poised ready to flee. Griff saw the struggle of uncertainty on her face.

  “He left a week after you resigned,” he prodded.

  “Yes.” Her clipped answer was meant to discourage his invasion into her life.

  “Why?”

  “Wylie and Dad arranged it.”

  Getting answers from Maggie was like pulling teeth. He searched for a different tact. “Didn’t you and Dwight date?”

  An intense fury flashed across Maggie’s face. “No. Never.”

  “But he asked.”

  “Yes. Then he didn’t bother asking. He tried to blackmail me into going out with him.”

  “He sexually harassed you?”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  It wasn’t a question, Griff realized. She didn’t expect him to believe her.

  Suddenly the puzzle pieces tumbled into place. She hadn’t turned her back on either her job or her dad. If anything, it was just the opposite. In her mind her job and her dad had let her down. She’d felt betrayed.

  Her stiff posture told Griff she was bracing for his condemnation, as well.

  “I believe you,” he said, letting his unflinching gaze punctuate his surety.

  Without waiting for her reaction, he reached for his crutch. It was time to give them both a break. “Where’s the fuse box?”

  She pointed to the other room. “Inside the closet near the kitchen.”

  Griff pocketed the flashlight and limped across the floor. Swinging open the metal box, he found the switches.

  Within seconds, the night-light and clock came on. He shut the door and returned to the sofa bed. Maggie was sitting on the edge.

  “Why do you believe me?” she asked.

  Griff reclaimed his position next to her and propped his cast. “Conrad was always a sleaze. He thought his oily charm made him the answer to any woman’s dreams.”

  “Dad didn’t believe me.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I wanted to press charges, but Dad told me that it would be hard to prove. I could tell he was angry at me for letting this happen, implying that I was responsible in some way. So I resigned.” She stood up, as if she couldn’t sit still any longer. “I finally realized that my father was never going to be the dad I needed. He was a cop. That’s what he knew and was good at. I was just in the way. So I handed in my notice and left.” She reached up and rubbed her temples. “I wasted so much of my time trying to be the daughter he wanted.”

  Once again the urge to haul Maggie into his arms swept through Griff. He wished BJ had told him about the harassment. Griff wouldn’t have let Conrad slink off without a good beating. It was nothing less than he deserved.

  “Your father was trying to protect you.”

  “Was he? I don’t think so. How would it look if his only child brought out the department’s ugly little secret?” She waved her hand dismissively. “It was better to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened.”

  “If BJ and Wylie made Conrad resign, then they believed you and refused to hide anything.”

  “Conrad should have been judged by the courts.”

  “And so would you have been.”

  “I was willing to take that chance.”

  Griff understood BJ’s dilemma. “But your dad wasn’t. We all know how the system works. Defense attorneys are notorious for putting the victims on trial. Knowing your dad’s temper, Wylie probably had to physically restrain him from beating the crap out of that slimy Conrad. They would have had to answer to the law. However, they could strong-arm him into forcing his resignation. In doing that, they took action but protected you.”

  “It should have been my decision to make. It’s our job to hold lawbreakers accountable.”

  “You’re right. But Conrad would have found a lowlife defense attorney who wouldn’t be afraid to cast innuendoes and rip your character to shreds. Your dad wasn’t willing to let that happen. He acted like a father, not a police officer.”

  Griff could feel the rage and hurt churn within Maggie, even though she kept her feelings buried.

  A tear slipped down her cheek.

  Griff attempted to do everything in his power to stay where he was.

  Maggie was BJ’s daughter.

  She hated his guts.

  The last person in the world she would want to lean on was Griff.

  Touching her could mean lighting a fuse to his raging hormones.

  Each argument was sound. He should listen to his common sense.

  Instead he heeded the nagging in his gut and reached for her.

  Her body went taut.

  “Don’t—”

  He ignored her protests and pressed her face into his shoulder. “Don’t think for now.”

  She stubbornly lifted her head. “But—”

  He sighed and gently pushed her head down again. “Nothing is going to happen. I’ve got my leg in a cast. You might as well take advantage of my weakness, Maggie. You’re never going to get another chance.”

  Chapter 10

  Maggie didn’t relax right away.

  She was used to taking care of herself. Griff understood that. He also knew that there was no way he was going to let her ride this storm out by herself.

  Finally the rigidity left her body and her limbs melted into his.

  “Anybody who believes you’re weak is a fool,” she said, disputing his claim of weakness.

  A thin smile tugged at his mouth. “I have to be strong if I’m going to be married to you.”

  He felt her silent chuckle. “Lucky for you it’s not a life sentence.”

  Yeah. He should have felt lucky.

  He didn’t.

  As she cuddled closer, his body battled its own tension and he hoped she didn’t notice the telltale bulge beneath his jeans. There wasn’t an ounce of truth that his actions were platonic or that he was weak. He’d need to be unconscious not to be aware of the woman in his arms.

  And it had nothing to do with the fact that she was BJ’s daughter or that he was under some kind of macho creed to protect her.

  The truth was that he wanted Maggie Bennington in the basic way a man wants a woman.

  He wanted to see her use the incredible feminine power she’d used to conquer her fears to strip naked and wrap herself around him. The itch that had begun at the church had burgeoned beyond sex. He wanted to hear her whisper his name. He wanted to hear her every thought.

  When had he ever wanted more than light conversation from a member of the opposite sex?

  It wasn’t that he didn’t respect women. He’d worked well with female officers. They brought unique perspectives to investigations.

  Yet it had been a long time since he’d wanted to share any part of his life with one. Not since Sonja.

  With Maggie curled into his arms and the night hours ticking slowly away, Griff tried to recall the face of his late wife in his mind.

  Sonja.

  She’d been his wife. He’d trusted her. And she’d betrayed him.

  Maggie shifted and her arm slipped trustingly to his waist.

  Mother of God. He’d never endured such torture.

  How could he use the hard lessons from his past as armor against the silk of Maggie’s hair caressing his jaw line? He liked feeling her in his arms.

  Even though the storm had long died away, he throbbed with a protectiveness that made him yearn to stay in this position for the rest of the night and beyond.

  With the rhythm of Griff’s hea
rt resounding in Maggie’s ear, she couldn’t believe she was leaning on the man who had made her life miserable for years. It was the last position she’d ever wanted to find herself in.

  Griff was her nemesis.

  He’d taken her place in her father’s life.

  Yet she had absolutely no desire to move. She wasn’t a prisoner. She’d have thrown Griff off her if he’d even tried to pin her down.

  Her father was long gone.

  And she wanted to be here.

  It had been a long time, if ever, since she’d felt so safe.

  What a pair they were. Griff anchored down by a cast. She tormented by her childish fears of storms.

  So why did she suspect if the wind and rain returned, she wouldn’t even flinch?

  Because she was finding security where she’d never expected to find it.

  She’d seen the anger in Griff’s face when she’d told him about Dwight Conrad’s actions. She’d worry for the weaker man if their paths ever crossed again. The former officer was cowardly. He tried to use intimidation to coerce women into going out with him.

  What Griff didn’t realize was that Dwight had never been a danger to her. Not in the way Griff could be.

  Griff had an internal strength that would never be used against another person unless he or she invited it.

  He’d be easy for a lesser person to lean upon. That knowledge alone should have made her ease away and put some distance between them.

  But Maggie didn’t move. She wanted to be here in his arms. He made her feel incredibly feminine and cherished.

  It was a heady, sexy experience.

  She’d never been so threatened in her life.

  Like a turned on water faucet, the rain returned the next morning, forcing Maggie to stay indoors with Griff.

  From the moment Maggie had wakened in Griff’s arms, the edginess had resurfaced and sharpened between them.

  In the light of day, she couldn’t hide from the truths of her momentary lapse during the nighttime darkness. Griff didn’t question her sudden coolness.

  He seemed burdened by his own thoughts, a perpetual frown adorning his closed features.

  After he’d emerged from the bathroom, she noticed he had done his own shaving. She chose not to comment on the few nicks decorating his jaw. They both needed to keep a respectful space.