Brenda Jackson - A Lover's Vow

Deciding she would leave if he didn’t come home in the next ten minutes or so, she relaxed her head against the headrest and stretched out her legs as far as they could comfortably go while glancing out the car’s window at her surroundings. This was a pretty exclusive section of Charlottesville, not too far from town. After seeing the Granger estate at Sutton Hills, she could understand his choice—when you were used to wealth, why settle for anything less? Although his condo wasn’t in a gated community, it still had that old-money, country-club feel all wrapped in modern architecture. Even the streetlamps spelled prestige with their intricate, wrought-iron design. Although it was dark, the landscape lighting revealed a luxurious building with immaculately manicured grounds.

Of their own accord, her thoughts shifted to Dalton and the last time she’d seen him at the wedding, a little over two weeks ago. She would admit, but only to herself, that she’d been aware of every single thing about him, every fine line and manly curve. Then there had been the way he’d stared at her with so much heated lust she’d felt exposed, vulnerable and so unbearably hot that when she’d gotten home she’d stripped off every inch of her clothing and taken a cold shower.

After wrapping up her last case, she’d decided that for the remainder of the year she would take it easy and stick around home, refusing new cases until after the holidays. But now she was considering doing the opposite just to get as far away from Charlottesville as she could. And all because of one man.

The thought that Dalton Granger could make her run sent anger flowing through her limbs. Why was she aware of him in a way she’d never been aware of any other man? Why did he have the ability to creep into her dreams at night, engaging her in all kinds of kinky acts? Even now, she could feel a line of heat licking across her skin, thinking about some of them.

She drew in a deep breath. Lately, her arsenal of sex toys wasn’t doing a damned thing for her. It was time to call in the big guns, the real guns. Her personal little red book, which she hadn’t used in months, was tucked in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. It was time to pull it out and flip through the pages. Most single people had little black books, but hers was red. Intentionally. It meant danger. Fire. Heat. The first name from the book that popped into her mind was Ray Ford. She wondered if he was still in town. Last time they’d talked...around this time last year...he was thinking about relocating to Baltimore to be closer to his little girl. At the time she’d only smiled, thinking that, in truth, it was probably his ex-wife he wanted to be close to. No harm there, and if that was the case she hoped they had reconciled and remarried.

Jules was about to consider another name in her little red book when she saw headlights approaching. It was easy to tell they were from a sports car. A sudden, low heat began spreading in her belly, and she frowned. Why was Dalton an ache even when he was a good twenty feet or more away, tucked safely inside his own vehicle? Just the thought of him approaching was making her body feel some pretty weird stuff, and that wasn’t good. Maybe this wasn’t the best night to have any type of conversation with him, after all. Tomorrow would be better, perhaps, when she could get control of her senses. Or maybe after she’d gotten laid.

As she watched his car turn into the condo complex, she knew excuses wouldn’t work. She was here and fired up to talk, and she wouldn’t back down. She needed to say what she wanted to say now, whether he wanted to hear it or not. She could handle this. She could handle him.

But as she watched him open his car door to get out, one leg at a time, and saw how each powerfully built thigh eased from the red two-seater, her throat suddenly went dry. And got even drier when he began walking toward his front door with that sensuous strut he could do so well, full of cool sophistication and overflowing with sexiness. He was wearing an Armani suit, and there was that air of natural confidence and casual arrogance that he exuded like no other man she knew. It turned her on when it should be turning her off. It was at times like these when she really got frustrated with herself. The very thought that her body would respond to anything about him was totally exasperating.

And here she was, outside his house, sitting in her car, determined to follow through with her mission to set the tone for a peaceful truce. She despised him; that couldn’t be helped, nor would it ever change. But for her sister and his brother, they could at least tolerate each other during those few times they were in each other’s company. She was willing to make the sacrifice and hoped he would be, too.

Knowing she needed to get it over with, confront Dalton and have her say, Jules was about to unbuckle her seat belt when she noticed a car pull up, a black sedan with tinted windows. Its approach was timed perfectly to when Dalton reached his door, opened it and went inside his condo. Only then did the driver slide the vehicle into a parking spot that provided a perfect view of Dalton’s front door. Maybe the driver lived in the complex, as well, but she had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right...so she waited.

When the driver of the vehicle killed his engine and didn’t make a move to get out of the car, she knew Dalton had been followed. Jules had been on enough investigations to recognize a tail when she saw one. Why had someone followed Dalton home just to sit there parked? Watching? Waiting?

She knew all about the Grangers’ background. About how their father, Sheppard Granger, was in prison serving time for killing their mother, although all three sons were adamant he was innocent. Just over a month ago someone had kidnapped Jace and was intent on killing him—not to mention that it was only a few weeks ago that someone had tried to run Caden down and kill him, as well. All were unrelated incidents but with the same purpose. Based on these facts, the idea that someone was following Dalton was highly suspicious.

And why should she care? He was definitely not her favorite person, and if someone had it in for him, then that person could stand in line behind her. But in reality, she knew there was logic and there was reason, and her mind couldn’t separate the two. Despite how she felt about him, if Dalton was in any kind of danger, she had to react. She blamed it on her days of being a cop, when protecting someone’s life had been her calling.

On instinct, she scanned her surroundings, this time with a different eye. If she got out of her car, whoever had followed Dalton would see her. That meant she couldn’t circle around on foot and catch the person off guard. She didn’t know if she was dealing with a man or a woman. All she knew was that not only had the person followed Dalton home, but also it seemed as if he had Dalton under surveillance and was settled in for the night. She knew she was right a short while later when Dalton had turned off all the lights, yet the vehicle did not move. Did the driver assume Dalton would be leaving again to go elsewhere?

Jules glanced at her watch. Although she had no earthly idea about Dalton’s social calendar, it was after eleven. Most people who worked the next day would be settled in for the night. But then, she wasn’t dealing with most people. She was dealing with Dalton Granger, who thought his single status and good looks gave him the right to any woman he wanted. The man who frequented nightclubs to pick up women, regardless of the day of the week or the time of day. The same man who could make her see red faster than any man she knew.

She scanned up and down the street again. Her car windows were tinted, but if the driver of the vehicle was observant, he would have noticed her car was running. It wouldn’t take long for him to begin wondering the same thing about her that she was wondering about him. Why was she just sitting in a car and not getting out?