Strategically Wed Read online

  Griff grimaced and lowered his hands. “We could probably create a scenario from each of these files.”

  She poked at a file sitting off to the side. “What about this one?”

  “Dead. Frank Rankin committed suicide.”

  She slumped in her chair and sighed. “I hate feeling like we’re pigeons waiting to be plucked.”

  “It’s our best bet for flushing this guy out.” He met her gaze over the tips of his fingers. “We sit tight and keep an eye on each other’s backsides.”

  Had she just imagined it, or was there a definitive edge to Griff’s voice?

  His eyes seemed more secretive than usual, glistening with a palpitating intensity. He’d become a cop again, remote and separate. She recognized the signs.

  Maggie tried to convince herself that she was overly sensitive to the barometric changes inside the four walls because of the storm the night before. Maybe she was just tired and imagining things she had no business imagining.

  “I need to get some sleep,” she said, heading toward the bedroom.

  Guilt stopped her short. She turned and looked back at the man watching her. “Is there anything you need?”

  Griff didn’t answer for a long moment. “No, there’s nothing that I need.”

  She hesitated, then shut the door. It was best for them both if they continued to ignore the spiraling sexual undercurrents.

  No storm rocked or rattled the small house during the night. Nevertheless, Maggie awakened frequently.

  She tried to reexamine the facts of the shooting to find a missing clue. But her mind seemed to slip a cog every time she reviewed the wedding. Her ears zeroed in on any sound coming from the other room.

  Was Griff sleeping?

  How did he sleep? On his side? His back?

  Did he usually toss and turn or did he sleep like the dead?

  She suspected he slept with one eye open, even on normal nights.

  Was he ever not a cop?

  She couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. He had a built-in radar.

  Maggie’s curiosity took a forbidden turn. What was Griff like as a lover? As a husband?

  Maggie, you’re trespassing into dangerous waters again.

  The admonition did little to dampen her fertile imagination.

  Griff stared at the closed door and made a stab at telling himself it was for the best that it stayed that way.

  They didn’t need to add any more complications to this situation than were already there.

  For the first time in his life, he was having trouble keeping his mind on his job. Even with Sonja, he had been more devoted to his partner and the department than to his wife. That had been her biggest complaint.

  He didn’t remember his mind suddenly spiraling off into illicit directions when he was investigating homicides, carjackings or robberies. The job had always risen to the top.

  Yet tonight he’d been dangerously close to losing complete control. He’d wanted Maggie and to hell with the consequences.

  She wore a long-tailed shirt with faded jeans. There was nothing the least bit sexy about her clothes, so why did he want to strip away each piece of clothing and take her right there on the hard floor?

  Even the thick wool socks on her feet held his fascination.

  Griff tried to slap some sense into his lust-driven thoughts.

  He should be considering the next move of the would-be murderer. That would be the obvious channel to explore.

  Maggie made him want to analyze the tantalizing smoothness of her hair, delve into the secrets behind her lips and investigate her innate softness.

  He’d never believed softness was a virtue.

  But in Maggie’s case, it was a strength he yearned to solve.

  He knew better than anyone else that looks could be deceptive. Women camouflaged what they considered physical weaknesses. They wore padded bras and high-heeled shoes. Men sucked in their beer guts and toned down their four-lettered vocabularies. Each gender had mastered the art of deception when it came to the rituals associated with the opposite sex until they were legally wed. Then the trappings were stripped, and the real person emerged.

  But he couldn’t forget the warm woman he’d held in his arms the night before. Maggie’s fears had been real. She couldn’t hide the frightened girl inside, and he hadn’t been able to hide his desire to comfort her and make the world right again.

  Her tears hadn’t been a statement of weakness. On the contrary, Griff didn’t think he knew a stronger woman than Maggie. He envisioned all the storms she’d ridden out alone. She’d never burdened BJ with the trauma of her scars. Neither had she sought professional guidance or a friend’s presence.

  The stiffness of her limbs told him how hard she worked to be strong.

  He understood that kind of strength.

  After his mother left, he never walked into a house without bracing himself for disappointment and ultimate loss. He’d learned to live for himself because it was safer.

  The same held true for Maggie. She’d learned to rely only on herself.

  Griff’s fingers wrapped into a fist. Just thinking about all the times Maggie had had to weather her fears alone made him angry and want to protect her. Her aloneness bothered him a lot more than his ever had. He wanted to be her anchor and support.

  You’re in danger of becoming a besotted fool, Murdock. She doesn’t need you or anyone else. It’s better for her to be strong on her own. Anything else would encourage a false dependency.

  His scolding didn’t hold up against the picture of Maggie in his head. He wanted to sink into her arms and find the pleasure that he’d been denying himself.

  Griff eyed his tight fists. For the life of him, he couldn’t relax. If he did, neither that closed door nor his wounds would be able keep him away from the woman on the other side.

  By late afternoon the next day, Maggie thought she’d go mad.

  She and Griff reexamined each of the file folders again. It should have been a routine matter, something that would keep their minds active and channeled to ward bringing the investigation to an end.

  On the surface, they followed procedure. But even in the light of day, there was nothing routine about their actions.

  She couldn’t quite put a name on what made this discussion between two police officers different than any other. If anyone else walked into the room, he’d believe they were being totally professional.

  But she and Griff were too careful not to touch each other when they passed the files between one another. Their conversation was stilted and to the point.

  From the corner of her eye, she observed the tight grip Griff had on his jaw. She, on the other hand, had to concentrate hard to keep her hands from shaking whenever she accidentally brushed against him.

  How much longer could they go on like this?

  A whimpering sound caught Maggie’s attention the next afternoon as she perused another of her father’s case files. She’d been using all her energy to ignore the strained atmosphere infiltrating the four cedar walls.

  The first time she’d heard the unfamiliar noise, she’d wondered if the wind was picking up.

  Then she heard it again. She cocked her head and met Griff’s dark gaze.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked, rising to her feet.

  “Maggie—”

  She tuned out the warning note in his voice and strode across the room. “It sounds like a wounded animal.”

  From behind her, she heard the chair Griff had been resting his leg on, crash to the floor. “Dammit, Maggie.”

  Before he could stop her, she slipped the lock and peered outside. She immediately spotted the sad-faced culprit quivering on the edge of the stoop. It was a small cream-colored dog.

  She released the latch and swung wide the door.

  “Ooh, you poor thing.” She let him sniff her hand before scooping up the bedraggled animal and cuddling him to her breast. Checking the landscape, she noted that nothing else moved. “Where is
your mama?”

  The dog licked her hand as Griff came up behind her. “That was a fool thing to do.”

  “This little guy isn’t going to hurt me.”

  “How did you know he wasn’t a two-legged con man and carried a gun?”

  “You don’t think I can tell the difference between a man or an animal? Animals are much more trustworthy.”

  “Am I supposed to say ‘ouch’?”

  Maggie brushed by Griff as she closed the door, still carrying the lost dog. She didn’t want to admit the puppy’s cries overcame her good sense.

  She sighed. “I wonder where he came from.”

  “Does he have a collar?”

  “No. Maybe we should contact the police.”

  “They’ll advise us to take him to the humane society.” Griff surprised Maggie by reaching over and scratching behind the animal’s ears.

  “Someone could be looking for him.”

  “Not if he’s been abandoned by one of the summer residents. According to several cops in the area, tourists are notorious for adopting pets and then dumping them after the season has ended.”

  Maggie’s heart squeezed at the thought. “He looks so sad. I couldn’t bear it if we took him to the pound and they decided to put him down.”

  Griff limped to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a plastic bowl and filled it with water.

  The puppy squirmed at the sight of the water dish Griff placed on the floor. Maggie released the animal and watched him dash to the bowl. “He’s pretty thirsty. It won’t hurt to wait awhile. If someone shows up, we can hand him over.”

  The sound of the dog’s slurps filled the room.

  “What are you going to call him?” Griff asked.

  Maggie took a moment to consider him. One possibility leapt at her as she noticed the dissipation of the tension that had riddled the cabin earlier. “Let’s call him Lucky. I think he’s going to bring us good luck.”

  Griff shrugged. “It’s as good a name as any.”

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Maggie found scraps of food for Lucky, while Griff scrounged through a closet and found a box to make a bed for their new resident. Maggie pulled an old towel from a rag box under the bathroom sink to use for bedding. Once their hungry guest had eaten, he settled down for a nap.

  Maggie made an attempt at cutting a doll’s skirt from some of the fabric she’d brought with her. However, she became easily distracted by the tug-of-war going on a few feet from her as Lucky and Griff battled each other for supremacy. Griff didn’t seem bothered by the cast any longer. He’d maneuvered himself to the floor for greater accessibility to wrestle with his worthy opponent.

  “You think you’re tough, don’t you, big guy?” Griff playfully taunted his feisty opponent.

  Lucky kept his teeth clenched on the end of the old towel and gave a defiant toss of his head.

  Maggie’s lips curled into a smile.

  Her dad had never liked animals. There were several occasions when she’d tried to sneak a cat or hamster into the house. No reason was ever good enough to convince BJ that Maggie should have a pet.

  “You like animals,” she said in the midst of their exuberant play. “Did you ever have a pet?”

  Griff shook the cloth. “A couple of foster homes had dogs. But I was never allowed to get one of my own.” Then he released his end and let the dog win the skirmish.

  The puppy pranced around the room victoriously. Just as quickly, he dropped his trophy and returned to Griff’s side, where he snuggled contentedly. Griff reached over and retrieved a glass of water with one hand, while he used his other to stroke his furry friend.

  Maggie hadn’t been prepared for Griff’s gentleness with the canine. Maybe she was hoping he’d be gruff or ignore the puppy’s antics, so he would be easier to hold at a distance.

  “You’ll make a great father some day.” The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to second-guess her thoughts.

  The glass slid from Griff’s fingers and crashed to the floor. The puppy yelped, startled by the sudden noise. But it was the sharp pain piercing Griff’s face that caught Maggie’s attention.

  She sprang to her feet. “Your hand is bleeding.”

  She grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen spindle and ran cold water to moisten it.

  “It’s just a small cut,” Griff said.

  She squatted next to him and grabbed his hand. “A small cut can lead to a large infection.”

  He didn’t pull away as she wrapped his injured limb and applied pressure to stop the blood flow.

  She instantly became aware of how warm his skin was. Startled, her gaze lifted and locked with his. She saw the sudden need in his face and tried to swallow.

  Dragging her gaze from his, she glanced at the wounded finger again. “I think the bleeding stopped.”

  “Yes.”

  Trying to look anyplace but at him, she picked up the pieces of broken glass and rose to her feet. After she deposited the shards into the trash, she returned to her chair by the couch. Even the puppy’s presence couldn’t cut through the tension.

  “Thank you,” Griff said.

  She wasn’t sure how to apologize. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable when I said you’d make a good father.”

  Griff’s expression became remote. “I know.”

  “Didn’t you want to have children with your wife?”

  At first, she didn’t think he was going to answer her. The only sounds in the cabin were Lucky’s snuffling the few drops of water left on the floor.

  Finally Griff spoke. “I always wanted a family more than anything in the world. When I married Sonja, I thought I had it all. A wife. A small apartment with the hopes of something bigger someday. A good job. Then she left me. And suddenly the dream was gone. It wasn’t until the autopsy report came back that I discovered she was pregnant.”

  Maggie felt as if a giant fist slammed into her heart. “How could she do that?”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “It was ironic. I didn’t cry for Sonja. She’d killed whatever love we had when she’d left with another man. But I sobbed over the baby. He was a little boy. I don’t know if he was mine or her lover’s. It never mattered. The only thing that counted was that the child had died.”

  Maggie couldn’t stand it. She found herself at Griff’s side. Without worrying about the possible ramifications, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him tight. His head rested against her breast.

  There was no way to erase the hurt and anguish he’d gone through. Internal pain didn’t magically disappear.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hoping he’d at least understand that he wasn’t alone.

  Moisture ran down her cheeks. At least she thought the tears belonged to her. Griff’s tears would be silent, rooted deep within him.

  How could he ever trust a woman again?

  First his mother and then his wife. No wonder he empathized with an abandoned puppy. They’d both been the victims of people who had turned their backs on them and broken the fragile bonds of trust. Maggie found herself shaking her head in disbelief. How could people be so cruel and thoughtless?

  Griff heard Maggie’s heart thundering in his ear. For years he’d barricaded his emotions with a resilient mental armor, never willing to risk his heart to another woman. He’d chosen the safe road. The women he’d dated weren’t interested in settling down. They favored men who were free and easy.

  Everything he’d ever learned stood at the brink of toppling. He should be pulling free of Maggie’s gentle hold and retreating to his icy fortress. He didn’t want this type of intimacy.

  His internal arguments fell on deaf ears. Maggie’s arms were a haven he’d actively boycotted ever since he was a little boy. For the life of him, he couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.

  If he moved, he’d hurt her feelings. Or so he tried to tell himself.

  Why did he want to stay here forever, locked in Maggie’s arms and nestled int
o her feminine warmth? He should be hornier than hell.

  A growing heat in the lower part of his body told him that he was indeed turned on. And if this were any other woman, he wouldn’t resist the urge to pull her into his arms.

  But it wasn’t sex that was making him hot and bothered. He wanted more, and that’s what kept him from moving. He wanted to make love to Maggie, a desire that wasn’t physical as much as emotional.

  You’re opening the door to certain heartache, a distant voice in the back of his head warned. He had to struggle to remember the pain of rejection and abandonment.

  But this was Maggie—the woman who collected old-faced dolls and couldn’t turn her back on a little lost dog.

  Scenes over the past week paraded through his head. The bride walking down the aisle. Her steadfast hold on his hand when they’d ridden to the hospital. The taste of her lips in the ER.

  A wave of sharp need rose within him. How could agony be so sweet and desperate at the same time?

  Their marriage vows were as phony as a TV soap opera.

  Maggie owed him nothing, and yet she’d stayed. And in staying, she’d put down roots.

  He only had to look around the cabin and see the homey touches she’d already added. A picture of Maggie with BJ sat on the nightstand next to her bed. A well-washed afghan rested at the foot of the bed. A ratty stuffed animal slumped against her suitcase.

  Did she ever discard anything?

  Was this how she’d survived her lonely childhood?

  He’d learned to live without.

  Maggie had learned to make the most of what she had.

  An old dream niggled at his subconscious. When Sonja had left, he’d resolutely, with no regrets, banished any desire to have a wife, two point four kids and a house with a white picket fence.

  With his head pillowed into Maggie’s softness, he had this overwhelming desire to cement the vows they’d exchanged in a way that would bind them forever.

  You’re going soft, Murdock. She’s catching you on your blind side.

  The crazy thing was, he didn’t feel weak or vulnerable in Maggie’s arms. Strength battled peace for supremacy. Hell, he really was crazy.