The gala is held at High Lake Terrace. Whenever I attend an event this size, I try to arrive twenty minutes early. I’m twenty-five minutes early, which is even better, so when I park my car in the adjacent structure, I sit behind the wheel for the moment. For some reason, my nerves are getting the best of me. Tonight is a big deal. I’ve been in school for so long that I’ve never given enough thought to how it will truly be when I get out in the real world. So tonight counts. Who I shake hands with, laugh with, and shoot the breeze with could potentially become my next employer or colleague. I check my face one more time in the rearview mirror. I practice my serious but congenial expression.
I take a deep breath. “You can do this, Nom,” I whisper.
I count one, two, three, and then I open the door, get out of the car, and walk confidently to the gala. When I reach the main entrance, my dad and Alice are already waiting there. Dick grins when he sees me, and so does Alice.
He taps his watch. “That’s my girl, always early…”
“Never late,” I say.
Alice smiles graciously, but I can tell by her expression that she doesn’t subscribe to our code. She’s wearing a stunning white sequined dress, and her long black hair is pulled up into a loose chignon.
“You look beautiful,” I say.
Alice hugs me. “You look amazing yourself.” She takes my hands and looks me over. “Such a beautiful woman.” She puts her mouth to my ear and whispers, “No wonder my brother likes you.”
My eyes expand, but I try to hide my shock. I glance at my father, who’s shaking hands with some guy. Good. He wasn’t paying attention.
We go inside, and my dad’s firm has four tables reserved. The space is filling quickly, and Dick wastes no time introducing me to the people he thinks I should meet. We go from one person to the next.
After the two-hour mingling session, my tight shoes have squeezed the blood out of my feet, and now they’re numb and my toes are on fire. Plus, my cheeks ache from smiling so much. I’ve learned something else about myself—I’m not really good at remembering names and faces. Thank goodness I collected business cards.
We’re talking to our eighth or ninth person. His name is Rainier Messing, he looks to be in his early forties, and my dad introduced him as the most highly regarded arbitrator this side of the country.
Dad pats my shoulder. “She’s graduating this spring. My hope is she’ll come work for me, but if she doesn’t, I just hope she doesn’t end up arguing against me one day.”
Rainier chuckles and rubs his chin. “Rumor has it you’re leaving your stable with the other horses.”
My dad responds, but I hear him as if his voice is miles away. I’m distracted by what I see. Behind Rainier, Derek has just entered the gala, and he’s not alone. Barbara has her arm wrapped around his. She’s talking in his ear while Derek’s eyes scan the room. He looks nervous. Suddenly she sees me and steers him in the opposite direction, down the long, glass-walled hallway.
“There’s more to life than working my fingers to the bone,” my dad says.
“True… so very true,” Rainier says. “But you’re the best, Dick.”
My dad chuckles in a way that displays humility.
I’m becoming more impatient with each passing second. I touch my dad on the back. “Excuse me, Dad.”
He grimaces curiously but says, “Sure.”
I walk through the crowd, looking for Derek and Barbara. I see Alice chatting with one of the partners’ wives. I turn down a corridor that has a view of the lake to my right. I walk past people drinking and talking, and we acknowledge each other as I pass. Finally I get to another room full of guests. Derek and Barbara are in the back. Derek shakes a man’s hand, and the guy walks away. Barbara sees me just as Derek turns to face her. She kisses him on the lips. I freeze. Suddenly, Derek looks at me. He appears startled. I let my emotions take over. I whip around and run back down the hallway. People are watching me, but I don’t care. I have to go.
I should tell my dad and Alice I’m leaving, but I can’t stop. This building is smothering me. My heartache is killing me. As soon as I hit the front door, the cool night air fills my lungs. Finally I can breathe. If only I could stop crying. I use my half-perfected jogging skills and jog all the way to my car.
By the time I make a left out of the parking structure, I’ve talked myself out of shedding another tear for Professor Derek Valentine. He crossed the line with me, so it isn’t a far stretch to assume I’m not the only student he’s been making passes at.
“Stupid, stupid girl,” I mutter.
Only I’m not a girl. I’m a woman. Tonight proved it. I held my own with my dad’s colleagues.
I will avoid Alice’s brother like the plague, and the kiss in the kitchen and the night at Nolan’s Point will be memories long forgotten. The idea of having to forget those beautiful moments makes me want to cry again, but I refuse to let the tears roll. This is where Dad’s advice comes in handy. Don’t let them see you cry. In this case, I won’t even let myself see me cry.
As soon as I get home, I strip out of my dress, put on my big fluffy robe, and just before I crawl onto my bed to sulk, the doorbell rings.
21
I flip on the light and look through the peephole. It’s Derek. I’m shocked he’s here. How does he know where I live? Part of me doesn’t even want to open the door, and part of me does. I open it.
“Don’t believe what you just saw,” he says.
“What am I supposed to believe?” I feel like smoke should be coming out of my ears.
“She kissed me. It was out of the blue, and I wanted nothing to do with it.”
I stand there, looking at him. “What were you doing there with her in the first place?”
He glances over his shoulder. “Can I come in? I can explain everything.”
I sigh sharply.
“Please?”
I step back, and he enters. I close the door, lock it, and look at him. I fold my arms, still waiting for an answer.
“She said she could introduce me to some people. Since I’ve opened my new firm, I thought it would be a good idea.”
“Well, did she introduce you to anyone?”
“A few, but then I left. I had to come find you because I didn’t want you to think anything was going on between her and me because…” He looks at me with fire in his eyes.
I gulp nervously. “Because…?”
He steps closer. I can practically feel his chest rising and falling. My mouth relaxes, and my lips part ever so slightly.
“Naomi,” he whispers.
His lips are so close to mine I can feel the warmth of his mouth. A faint breath escapes me.
“Yes?” I say.
His lips delicately brush mine.
I close my eyes as my body slides deeper into his. The heat of his breath rolls across my throat before his mouth makes contact with my neck.
Suddenly, he picks me up, and I’m weightless in his arms. Our mouths reconnect as he walks me into the living room, our lips passionately fused all the while.
He sets me on the couch and kneels beside me. Our lips disengage but our eyes don’t. His hands move from my belly up to my breasts. He looks as if he’s intoxicated. His hands come down around my waist before he presses his lips firmly against my navel. He undoes my night pants and slides them down and off my legs. His wet lips crawl from my toes all the way up my leg and into my crotch.
His tongue lands squarely on my clitoris, where he brushes back and forth, up and down. Sensations spark deep within me. I claw at the couch cushions, gasping and moaning. When the most potent sensation hits, I scream until my body quivers.
I stare at him, breathing heavily. I want him inside me. I hope he’s not done.
“Take me to my room,” I whisper passionately.
He slides his hands under my knees and around my back and picks me up. “Which way?”
“Down the hall and to the right.”
We kiss while he walks
to my room. He lays me on my bed and undoes his pants while I remove his shirt. He parts my knees and carefully slides into my wetness. I gasp. His girth is more than I’m used to, but he’s not pounding the hell out of me. His movements are slow, deep, and fervent. I release faint moans that build as every solid inch of his thickness activates my sex. I’m feeling new sensations. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on tight. My climax peaks, and I cry out, exploding with my orgasm before he does. Once my body calms down, Derek increases the pace of his thrusts until he grunts and his body shivers.
He’s still on top of me, our chests wet with sweat. Derek lifts his head off my cheek to stare into my eyes, and I kiss his forehead. Neither of us have words for what just happened. He rolls to my side, draws me against his warm body, and we fall asleep.
In the morning, I slip out of Derek’s arms to go to the kitchen and make coffee. I look out the window above the sink. There’s a familiar vehicle parked across the street.
I squint. “Is that the detective?” I lean closer to the window to get a better look at the man sitting in the car and drinking coffee. I look over my shoulder and call, “Derek!”
“Yeah?” he hollers back.
“Come here. You have to see this.”
A few seconds later, he parks his body behind mine and kisses my cheek. “What is it, babe?”
My eyes expand. He called me babe? To know that Professor Valentine thinks of me as his babe is pretty thrilling.
I gather my bearings and point out the window. “Is that the detective?”
He slides next to me and narrows his eyes as he looks out the window. “Yeah, what the hell is he doing here?”
“He follows you. Did you know that?”
“Follows me? No.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him.”
Derek turns. “I’m going to go talk to this jackass.”
I grab his arm. “Wait.”
He looks at me, his eyes ablaze.
“How closely have you looked at the accident report?” I ask.
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because I’ve looked at it, and I think we should look at it together—because this guy’s not going away.”
Derek tilts his head. “We?”
“Yeah, I’ve studied the report and I think I can help.”
He sighs deeply. “It’s just… I don’t like what’s going on here. Why would I kill my wife? And why would anyone else kill her?” He glares out the window. “That guy has an axe to grind. He’s looking for a sacrificial lamb, and he’s not going to find it here.” He looks at me again. “You’re right. I’ve got to do something about this. I’m going to go talk to my lawyer on Monday.”
I wave my hands in objection. “No!”
He looks at me, confused.
“I mean, I think this is something we can handle together,” I say.
“You keep saying we,” he says.
“Look, I told you I had my uncle look at the pictures of the brake line that were in the report? He thinks the detective’s suspicions are relevant.”
Derek frowns as if he’s thinking over what I just said. He runs his hand through his hair. “Your uncle really thinks someone tampered with that line?”
“He’s sure of it.”
He takes a deep breath. “Okay. If we do this, then you know where we have to begin.”
I crack a tiny smile. “The last location of the vehicle before it crashed.”
22
Derek and I head over to his house. We stand in the driveway, scanning the neighborhood.
“Where did your wife park her car?” I say.
Derek points at the front of the garage. “Over there.”
“She didn’t park in the garage?”
“She never parked in the garage unless it was snowing. She didn’t like having to open and close it.”
I grunt thoughtfully. That makes sense. I wouldn’t want to keep opening and closing it either. “What side did she park on?”
He walks over to the left side of the drive. “She always parked right here.”
I squat and examine the concrete.
“What are you looking for?” he says.
“I’m looking for any stains or something that indicates brake fluid spilled here, but there’s nothing.” I stand up and put my hands on my waist.
“I don’t see anything either,” he says.
I search our surroundings for something, anything, that could lead us to answers. I squint at one of the neighbors’ windows. A dim flashing red light catches my eye. I point toward it. “What’s that?”
“The neighbors’ house?” He sounds confused.
I point. “No, that—in the window.”
He looks harder, focusing on the small red light. “Is that a camera?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
We look at each other as if we have the same idea at the same time. He nods toward the front of the neighbors’ house, and we walk in that direction. We rush up the steps to the porch, and Derek takes the metal knocker and raps the door three times.
The door opens. It’s a kid. He can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen years old. In one hand is his wireless Xbox controller and in the other is a bag of chips.
“My parents went to church. I’m home. I’m sick.” He looks at his console controller and bag of chips as if he’s just gotten caught.
Derek and I look at each other.
I smile at the kid. “Hey, is there a camera in the window in the back?”
He seems rattled by my question. “Ah, yeah. I have one in my room.”
“How long has it been there?” I say.
The kid wrinkles his forehead. “Ahh, a while.”
“Well, could you define a while?” I say encouragingly.
“Like, I put it there when the dogs started going missing, and I just kept it there because—” He just stops.
I stare at him, hanging on his every word.
“About a year, I guess,” he finally says.
I look at Derek, like I think we may have something here.
He looks at me the same way. “You know me, right?” Derek says to the kid.
“Yeah, you live next door… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’ll move the camera.”
Derek lifts his hand. “No,” he says quickly—too quickly.
I put my hand on Derek’s back to calm him. I don’t want him to startle the boy.
“I mean, it’s okay,” Derek says. “I need to know… ah, you remember when my wife died? Your parents… they came over and gave me a casserole.”
“Yeah… I remember,” he says cautiously.
“Do you have video footage from around that time, specifically August thirteenth, last year?”
“Um… I think so.”
“Could you show us?”
“Sure,” he says happily, as though he’s just glad he’s not in trouble.
We go into the house.
“Say,” Derek says, “I forgot your name.”
“Ryan, my name’s Ryan,” he says while walking us up the hallway and into his room.
He sits at his computer. Derek and I stand behind him while he searches for the date in question.
“I’ll just go back… You know,” Ryan starts, “I put this up, and then I found out a lot goes on around here. I’ve caught a lot of it on my camera.” He stops the footage on a night shot of a man. “That’s Mr. Kent. He lives three houses down. I have a wide lens… and I see him, every night, at the same time. He walks up and down the street in a robe, even when it’s snowing.” He turns around in his chair and looks at us. “Weird, huh?”
Derek and I chuckle a little. This kid is the neighborhood stalker/neighborhood watch.
“Did you ever catch the dog thief?” Derek says.
Ryan chuckles. “No, but I caught Mr. Wright and Mrs. Kringle, um, making out in his car. In front of your house!” he says like he’s telling on them.
Derek and I raise our eyebrows
at each other.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” he asks.
I lean in closer and squint. The Dell AC130 monitor is a bit fuzzy, but I see Mariah’s car in the drive. A figure of a woman walks up to the car. It looks as if she has dark brown or black hair—and a lot of it. She gets on her hands and knees near the rear passenger-side tire. She takes a flashlight out of her coat pocket and sets it on the cement right behind the tire, then she reaches under the car. We still can’t see her face. After about thirty seconds, she gets up and leaves.
“Do you know who that could be?” I ask Derek.
“I don’t know,” he says.
“I’ve never seen her before,” Ryan says.
Derek looks at him, perplexed. “Could you rewind that?”
“Yeah.” Ryan rewinds the video.
“Stop. Right there.” Derek squints and bends closer to the monitor. “Mariah had hair that color, but I’m sure she didn’t tinker with her own car. I don’t even think she knew what a brake line was.”
“Humph,” I say.
Derek frowns as if he has a thought he’s not willing to share. “Is there any way to get a better image of her?”
“Ah, that’s as good as it gets,” Ryan says. “I built this from scratch, and I’m still working out all the kinks.”
“Well I think that’s pretty good,” I say. “Is there any way you can make us a copy?”
“Sure.” Ryan picks up a shoebox with a bunch of loose flash drives in it. He shuffles through several before taking one out. “Can I use this?”
“Absolutely,” Derek says.
Ryan sticks the drive into his computer, saves the video, and gives the stick to Derek. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” Derek says.
“You’re not going to tell my parents I was playing video games, are you?”
“Of course not,” he says. “If anything, you look sick as a dog.”
The Professor's Heart (Her Perfect Man Contemporary Romance) Page 11