Love Plus One ('G-Man Series') Read online

  When he returned, he handed me a pair of sweats with a hoodie shirt. The shirt was grey and had black lettering. It read, ‘F B I’. How totally cool was that? He helped me dress.

  Once dressed, I ran my fingers through my damp hair, trying to untangle it.

  “Here,” he said, handing me a comb. I took it from him and started running it through my hair.

  “Here’s a new toothbrush. Please use it.”

  He picked up the heap of puked-on clothes piled on the floor and exited the bathroom with them.

  I brushed and gargled. I combed my hair out and finally managed to take a peek at myself in the mirror. Some semblance of soberness was starting to return. Not enough to make me want to be anywhere but here though.

  I gargled one more time for good measure.

  I opened the large medicine chest over the sink to see if I could locate a bottle of ibuprofen or any other type of pain-killer. I was fairly certain a headache was to follow.

  I couldn’t locate any type of pain-killer, but there was a wide assortment of Magnum® condoms.

  There were heavy-duty, neon glow-in-the dark, large ‘reservoir’ for heavy loads (Oh my!) ribbed-for-her-pleasure, sheepskin, flavored (Really?) lubricated, non-lubricated. My head was starting to spin reading all of the various descriptions. I quickly slammed the door to the medicine cabinet shut.

  Once I left the bathroom, I padded down the long, hardwood floor of the main hallway looking for Taz. He was in a bedroom off of the living room, making up the bed with clean sheets and pillowcases.

  “Feeling a little better?” he asked.

  “A teeny bit. I’m really sorry, Taz. I am so embarrassed. I don’t know what got into me.”

  “Way too much alcohol, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us. Something about having a shitty couple of years, huh?”

  “Oh, that,” I said with a shrug. “I guess I was hosting my own little pity party. Sorry, I drug you down with me.”

  “Hey,” he said, “I know what you’ve been through, Lindsey. It’s got to be tough on you. How about you climb into my spare bed here and get a good night’s rest, okay?”

  “This isn’t your bed?”

  “No,” he said with a grin. “My bed is much bigger. And it’s in another room.”

  “Thanks for cleaning me up, Taz,” I remarked, now feeling the blush that was absent while he bathed me.

  “It was my pleasure, sweetheart.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yep.”

  “What is your real name?”

  It had struck me after all of this time that I had never heard anyone refer to him as anything other than ‘Taz’.”

  “Hmm,” he said, giving me an ornery look, “I don’t share that information with a lot of people, you know? I guess I can make an exception for you. It’s Trace,” he said.

  “Trace,” I repeated, liking the way it sounded on my tongue. “Thanks, Trace.”

  CHAPTER 2

  When I awoke the following morning, I stretched trying to work out the kinks of having slept in a strange bed.

  Immediately, my chest felt as if an elephant had been sitting on it all night. My mind was fuzzy.

  The room where sunlight was streaming was unrecognizable. Then the events of the previous evening came quickly flooding over me. My ribs and chest ached because of the wretching I had done.

  Oh shit! I remembered there was alcohol, lots of it. I recalled spewing all over Taz’s truck. He had undressed me and put me in the shower, cleaning me up.

  I looked down at the clothes I was wearing; they were huge on me but clean and comfortable. They were Taz’s. I mean Trace’s.

  I smiled, remembering that he had shared his given name with me: Trace. Trace Matthews. He had been totally sweet to me, a gentleman to be sure. I blushed under the sheets of the bed in his guest room.

  I looked around. A glass of water and a bottle of Advil had been placed on the nightstand next to the bed. Taz was thoughtful, too. My head was fine though.

  I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and quickly realized my head was not fine. It felt like a hundred thunderous horses were pounding their hooves inside of it.

  Ouch!

  I picked up the bottle of Advil, removing a couple of tablets and quickly washed them down with the full glass of water.

  Somewhere, I could hear the sound of dishes clattering together. The smell of freshly-brewed coffee caught my attention.

  My stomach had a gnawing ache in it from being totally empty.

  I slowly raised myself up off of the bed and poised myself to face the man who had seen me naked and hadn’t yelled at me for leaving my DNA all over the inside of his truck.

  I quietly made my way down the hallway to the end where I could now smell bacon cooking.

  Taz was there at the stove turning the bacon. He was wearing black tee shirt that had the sleeves ripped off. It accentuated his muscular chest and shoulders. His jeans were faded and ripped, hanging low on his narrow hips.

  “Good morning,” I said, trying to sound normal but my voice croaked. Damn! My throat hurt from the retching.

  “Hey, baby girl,” he said, flashing me a dazzling smile. “I see you survived the night no worse for the wear.”

  “Barely,” I said, hurriedly taking a seat at his kitchen table afraid my legs would give out.

  Despite the hangover, Taz unnerved me. There was something about him, something I hadn’t noticed before. I had always thought he was hot, but this was different. He was sexy but soulful; a very heady combination.

  What the hell was I doing? He was probably as old as Slate.

  “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please,” I said, my voice now sounding like a husky whisper.

  I watched as he pulled a coffee mug from the cupboard and filled it. I was checking him out beneath my lashes.

  Damn, he had a nice ass. His stomach was as flat as a washboard.

  “Sugar?”

  “What?”

  “Would you like sugar in your coffee?”

  “Oh - uh, no. Just black.”

  “Here you go, drink up.”

  I thanked him as I took the mug in both hands, raising it up to my lips. Umm, it tasted good. He liked it strong, same as me.

  “Hungry?” he asked, heading back to the stove where he had scrambled eggs going.

  “I am starving,” I admitted, blushing for some unknown reason.

  “I’ll bet,” he laughed. He had a nice laugh; it was genuine. “You couldn’t have had anything left in your stomach. It’s all over the inside of my truck.”

  “Oh, God, Taz. I’ll clean it as soon as I finish eating.”

  “Now, that doesn’t sound like a plan to me, baby girl,” he said with a wink. “I’ve taken care of it anyway.”

  “You have?”

  “Yep. Got up early to run to the store for breakfast items. I took it to the car wash. It’s all good.”

  He set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me. It looked and smelled great. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he returned to serve a plate up for himself.

  His hair was a sandy brown; thick and tousled like he had just rolled out of bed. He had gorgeous green eyes and some stubble going on that made his perfectly chiseled features that much more appealing.

  He wore an earring that was sexy. His right arm was beautifully tattooed from his shoulder to his elbow. He sat across from me and started digging in to his eggs.

  “Hold old are you, Taz?”

  He looked up, raising his coffee mug to those magnificent lips and taking a drink.

  “Twenty-eight; will hit twenty-nine next month,” he said. “Yeah, yeah - I know, I’m an old man.”

  “Hardly,” I laughed. “I thought maybe you were the same age as Slate. I mean, you two being good friends and all.”

  “Oh, that’s because we went through the academy in Quantico together. Slate did an extra stint in the military first. I only did
one tour in the army. Slate did two.”

  “Do you like being in the FBI?”

  “I wouldn’t do anything else,” he replied.

  “Is it always dangerous?”

  “No, not really. I like the investigative, undercover part. It’s like being in a different movie with each new case you’re on. I love the different personas. The last stint as a biker lasted for a few years. I will always ride. It has become sort of who I am, I guess.”

  “You enjoyed playing the biker?”

  “Yeah. I guess I did. Slate didn’t care for it though.”

  “That was certainly a dangerous bunch of heathens,” I said, shivering.

  I couldn’t imagine what my mother had been put through those several hours she had been held hostage by the biker named ‘Slash.’

  “It had its perks,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his handsome face. He didn’t elaborate.

  “I suppose it pays really well since you are always at risk of being hurt or killed.”

  He shrugged, chewing on a piece of bacon.

  “I make out alright. It doesn’t pay what you will be making once you get out of school and work for Banion. It’s not really about the money for me. I live for the job satisfaction.”

  I gave what he said some thought. It was difficult for me to consider that something other than money was a major consideration for a career choice.

  But then, I had been raised watching my father climb to a high-level position within the company. That wasn’t necessarily a good comparison, I realized.

  “So what about you, Lindsey?”

  “What about me?” I asked, taking another sip of my coffee.

  “What is your major?”

  “Economics,” I said, giving him a slight eye roll.

  “Hey, if that’s what you like, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Did you go to college?”

  “I did,” he said, nodding his head. “Still do.”

  “You do?”

  “Yep. I’m working on my Masters of Psychology. I want to get into the Behavioral Analysis Unit eventually.”

  “You mean like what those agents do on the television show, ‘Criminal Minds’?”

  “Yep,” he said, with a grin. “That’s my dream. Let me guess. You think Dr. Reid is hot, right?”

  He was grinning at me, giving me a wink. It was obvious he regarded me as some immature, giggly teenager.

  “Hardly,” I said, my tone having a hint of annoyance in it. “I haven’t done celebrity crushes since sixth grade.”

  “Ohhh - my bad there, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to piss you off.”

  He was still fucking with me in his teasingly, big brother sort of way.

  “Actually, for the record, Shemar Moore, a.k.a. Derek Morgan is more to my liking, as hotties go.”

  He stopped sipping his coffee and looked over at me, a smile playing on his lips.

  “So, when and where do you go to school?” I asked.

  “I do evenings at Georgetown,” he said.

  “Hmm, impressive,” I remarked.

  A couple of my local friends attended Georgetown. It was a prestigious school, every bit as impressive as Cornell had been for me.

  Taz had finished his breakfast and started clearing the table.

  “Here, let me,” I said, taking the dishes from him. “You’ve been the perfect host. Let me clean up in here.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me on that,” he said. “I need to make a couple of phone calls then I’ll run you home, how’s that?”

  “Fine,” I said, rinsing the dishes preparing to load them into the dishwasher.

  I was flustered. Why was I flustered? It was just Taz; the same Taz that I had seen more than a dozen times over the past year. Why was he suddenly having this effect on me?

  Part of it was the fact that Taz seemed to regard me as some type of a college coed, which of course I was; but more like someone in a different generation than him.

  So what? I was eight or nine years younger. That was nothing from my perspective.

  Perhaps he had lived longer than me, had more life experiences than I have had, that didn’t mean he could disregard the fact that I was a woman, not some drooling teenager for Chrissake.

  He reappeared in the kitchen just as I had finished up. He was watching me closely now, as if perhaps he was seeing me differently than he had before.

  “You ready?”

  “Yep,” I answered. “Let me grab my stuff.”

  “Oh, your dress is in a garbage bag out back, you know, the smell and all.”

  Oh God - did he have to say it like that?

  “You can just put it out with the trash,” I said, turning to walk down the hall. “It’s not like I’ll ever wear it again.”

  The twenty-minute drive to Mom and Slate’s was mostly spent in silence. His truck had been thoroughly cleaned. I noticed some Febreeze air freshener clips had been attached to the vents on the dashboard where the heat came out.

  “So, what happened between you and Adam?” he asked, obviously uncomfortable with the silence.

  “It just didn’t work out,” I replied. “We are still friends. We talk now and then. He has moved on, but it's okay.”

  “Ahh,” he said with a nod, “he found another chick, huh? That’s rough I guess.”

  “Not really. He found another dude,” I clarified, watching for his reaction from my peripheral vision.

  I saw his head turn quickly to look over at me.

  “Really?”

  “Yep. He said he had been in denial. I guess being around me sealed the deal prompting him right out of his denial.”

  “Oh shit, Lindsey. I’m sorry for nosing into your business. I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “In some ways, I guess I almost feel better that it wasn’t another chick. I can’t blame myself.”

  “Why would you ever do that? You’re a cute kid. You must know that.”

  Shit! Did he just refer to me as a ‘kid’?

  “It’s fine, Taz. I’m not fishing for compliments from you.”

  He patted my knee as if consoling me.

  For the love of Christ I am getting tired of this.

  I smiled over at him, biding my time.

  We pulled up in front of the house several minutes later. It was certainly not the mansion we had lived in while in Indianapolis, that was for sure. Mom loved it though. It was what she had dreamt of she told me, complete with a white picket fence around the front.

  It was a large cape cod with a full basement. It had a nice size yard, a bit less than an acre. It was just outside of the city limits. We could see our neighbors down the road on both sides.

  My grandparents’ car was pulled up in the driveway. It was not quite noon. Even they didn’t treat me as if I still needed a curfew.

  Taz put his truck into park and looked over at me.

  “Would you like for me to go in and explain to your grandparents what happened last night; that you were safe with me? I hadn’t thought about calling them earlier. I probably should have.”

  “I don’t think so,” I snapped, unbuckling my seat belt, and opening the door to the truck. “Jesus Christ, Taz, I’m not a freaking child.”

  I jumped down from the cab of his truck.

  It would have been a great exit had the strap of my purse not gotten caught around the gear shifter on the center console.

  Crap!

  “Hold up,” he said, smirking.

  He lifted my purse strap up and over the shifter and picked it up, getting out of the truck to come around to my side and hand it to me.

  I grabbed it from him, turning to head up to the house.

  “Thanks for the lift,” I called back to him.

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” he said, calling after me.

  I felt his hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me back so that I would stop.

  “Lindsey, what the hell? I didn’t mean to insult you, sweetheart. I know
you’re not a child. I just wasn’t sure if you would catch shit from your grandparents. You know how old people can be.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m finding out,” I said with a smirk of my own. “I’m almost twenty-one, Taz. When my mother was twenty-one, she was raising a four-year-old. Would you have treated her like that?”

  “So, what’s your point?”

  I actually had no clue as to what the point of that was. I just knew that he needed to put it into perspective. I may not be the mother of a four-year-old, but by God, I wasn’t a child either.

  “I guess I would just prefer that you recognize that I am a woman,” I replied simply. “I appreciate everything you did for me, Taz. I know that I should have behaved more maturely at the reception.”

  He was studying me now with those gorgeous, green bedroom eyes of his.

  His lash line was so dark his eyes looked as if they had mascara on them. I knew that they didn’t. He simply had eyelashes that any woman would die for; eyelashes undeserving of a man.

  I wasn’t sure what prompted me to do what I did next. I didn’t stop to think about it, or to debate it before I did it.

  I walked closer to him, standing on my tip toes. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his head down towards my face.

  My lips found his and I kissed him. I prayed he wouldn’t pull back. He didn’t pull back. He stood there for a moment statuesque-like.

  I worked harder. I might still be a virgin, but by God, I had learned some things along the way. Kissing was one of them. I had been told by a few guys that I was a great kisser. We would see.

  I moved my lips on his, my tongue lightly traced his bottom one.

  His lips started responding to mine, first slowly, then very sensually. I parted my lips and his tongue found mine. He pulled me in closer now, planting his fingers into my short, spiky hair.

  Our kiss grew more arduous. I lowered my hands to his muscular back, digging my long fingernails into him. I felt his hardness against me.

  Dear Lord!

  I moaned softly with the realization that yes, this man was affected by me and I was totally affected by him.

  “Mmm,” he moaned, finally pulling away from me. “Lindsey, I don’t think this is a good -”

  I gave him a sparkling smile as I threw my purse over my shoulder.