Body of Evidence

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “You’re going to make me cry,” Jennifer said, then sniffled.

  “No, I’m going to make love to you, with you, if you’re willing,” Evan said, then brushed his lips over hers. “I love you, Jenny.”

  “And I love you, Evan.”

  Evan kissed Jennifer deeply, then with no more words spoken and none needed, they went down the hallway to her bedroom.

  And it was magic.

  Clothes seemed to float away with a mere thought, and the blankets on the bed were swept back by an invisible hand to reveal cool mint-green sheets that beckoned.

  They tumbled onto the bed, then stilled, sweeping their gazes over each other in the golden glow of the small lamp on the nightstand. A body soft and womanly, with a tummy just beginning to show a gentle rise where a son was being nurtured. A body hard and masculine and taut with muscles. Perfect counterparts. And minds that matched with the knowledge that this was theirs to have, to rejoice in, because…

  “We’re in love for all time,” Jennifer said, her voice ringing with awe and wonder. “That’s where the magic comes from, Evan…our love. This is how it should be. This is the difference between when we made love the first time and now…the love, the commitment to forever, the pledge.”

  “We’ll always have the magic, Jenny.”

  They kissed, caressed, explored and discovered anew the mysteries of each other, marveling, savoring, memorizing. The desire within them burned hotter, causing breathing to quicken and hearts to race.

  When they could bear no more they joined, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping from Jennifer’s lips as a groan rumbled deep in Evan’s chest. He began to move within her, deep so deep, increasing the tempo, taking her with him as she matched him beat for beat. The heat coiled tighter, hotter. The moment of release neared. It was ecstasy. It was theirs.

  And now…it was very, very right.

  They were flung into oblivion seconds apart, each calling the name of the other, holding tightly through the wondrous journey, then drifting slowly back to lay close, not speaking, just feeling. Remembering. Tucking it all away in private chambers of hearts that wished to keep the memories of what they had just shared.

  They slept. Heads resting on the same pillow and hands splayed on the other’s moist, cooling skin. Neither dreamed because no fantasy produced by subconscious minds could be more glorious than the reality of what had transpired.

  When fingers of sunlight inched beneath the curtains on the window at dawn and tiptoed across the bed to wake Jennifer, she opened her eyes, then turned her head on the pillow to see Evan sleeping peacefully beside her.

  “That’s your daddy, baby boy,” she whispered, spreading one hand over her bare stomach. “That magnificent, warm, funny, intelligent, loving man is your daddy.”

  “Who is in love with your mommy, baby boy,” Evan said, as he slowly opened his eyes, then smiled at Jennifer. “Forever.”

  Chapter 7

  A week later Jennifer stood in front of her open closet door wearing a silky slip and a frown.

  “I don’t have a thing to wear,” she said aloud.

  A newspaper suddenly appeared inches before her nose and she gasped in surprise before smiling and tilting her head back to look up at Evan who stood behind her.

  “You want me to wear a creation made of newspaper to this shindig?” she said.

  “No,” Evan said, chuckling. “I just thought you’d like to see yet another rave review about your documentary. It was aired three nights ago and the accolades are still pouring in.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her freshly shampooed hair. “Congratulations…again. May I have your autograph?”

  “I think I should ask for your autograph,” she said. “After all, you were the star of the famous flick. Evan, move that paper before you get news-print on my nose. Oh, I really don’t have a thing to wear.”

  Evan tossed the paper onto the bed, then narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the clothing choices on the hangers. He lifted the material of the full skirt of a silk, teal-blue dress with a pleated top and long sleeves.

  “This is the dress you wore the night the mayor ordered us to have dinner together. I like it. It’s very pretty. Simple but classy.”

  “You remember what I wore that night? That was several months ago.”

  “I remember,” he said, looking directly into her eyes, “every detail of that night.”

  “Really? You’re so sentimental. I don’t remember that you wore a dark brown suit that did wonderful things for your thick brown hair and fudge-sauce eyes. Nor do I recall that you added a tan shirt, chocolate-colored tie with a matching handkerchief peeking above the pocket of your jacket.”

  Evan laughed. “Well, tonight I’m wearing a blue suit, pale blue shirt, as you can see, and a dark blue tie. In other words, I’m ready to go so pick something or we’re going to be late for the mayor’s party.”

  “Here we are again. Going out because the mayor has spoken.”

  “Yes, but this time we’re not squabbling.”

  Jennifer wrapped her arms around Evan’s neck.

  “Definitely not squabbling,” she said, then outlined his lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, pulling her arms free. “You start that and we’ll never leave this bedroom, Ms. Anderson.”

  “That’s the plan, Mr. Stone,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

  “We’ll make an early night of it. I know you’ve put in some very long hours to get that documentary ready to be aired and you must still be tired, but we really do need to make an appearance at this party.”

  “Okay, okay. I guess I’ll wear the teal-blue number that you remember so well. The top blouses a bit and since I’m getting a tad tubby in the tummy it will cover the evidence.”

  Evan patted the tummy in question. “How’s our baby boy?”

  “He’s fine and dandy, and the morning sickness has stopped, thank heavens. Do you like the name Daniel? It just popped into my head today.”

  “No,” Evan said firmly. “When I was in the fifth grade a kid named Daniel stole my Joe DiMaggio baseball card. I wonder if that’s why I went into the prosecution side of the law?”

  “Oh, good grief,” Jennifer said, laughing. “Okay, I’ll remove Daniel from the list of baby boy names.”

  “You could add Joe DiMaggio to that list. Joe DiMaggio Stone. Now that has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “Forget it.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  The very well-attended party in the private room at the exclusive restaurant was in full swing when Jennifer and Evan entered, their arrival evoking a loud round of applause and shouts of congratulations to them both.

  Lyle’s confession had made the headlines in the newspapers and was the lead story in every newscast in the country.

  Mayor Ned Jones made his way through the crowd to vigorously shake Evan’s hand, then give Jennifer a peck on the cheek.

  “Fantastic jobs, both of you,” the mayor said, beaming. “You look good, I look good, we all look good. That counts at election time. I’m more than satisfied with the sentence Lyle got. Oh, in case any reporters ask, the tab for this party is coming out of my personal pocket. The taxpayers are not footing the bill for this celebration. I invited everyone who had anything to do with winning this case. We all deserve to celebrate.

  “Jennifer, you are a vision of loveliness this evening, I must say. Your documentary is the talk of Chicago at the moment, since the hoopla about Gardner is fading. Any chance of your film being shown beyond this area?”

  “My boss is negotiating for prime time with one of the national networks,” she said. “Apparently they’re very interested.”

  “Excellent. You deserve recognition for a fine, fine job.” The mayor patted Evan on the arm. “And our man here deserves every bit of credit he can get for the outcome of the Gardner case.”

  “I appreciate your compliments,” Evan said, “but I really didn’t d
o anything to win this case. All the credit goes to Detectives Waters and Wilson. I made that clear in my earlier statement to the press. If they hadn’t found the ring in that pawnshop I’m not convinced I could have won the case with the circumstantial evidence I had to work with.”

  “Nonsense,” the mayor said. “You’d have won. We’re spreading out this victory so everyone gets a piece of the public relations pie.” He paused. “By the way, I hear that congratulations and best wishes are in order for you two as well as the other heroes and heroines involved in this case. Ah, yes, that is a sparkling diamond I see on your pretty finger, Jennifer. When is the wedding?”

  “Soon,” she said, smiling. “The sooner the better, in fact.”

  “Fantastic. Months ago when I ordered you two to go out to dinner and settle your differences you certainly took me at my dictatorial word.”

  “You have no idea how true that is,” Jennifer said, unable to curtail a bubble of laughter. “Yes, sir, we have a verdict in this case…marriage.”

  “I must mingle,” the mayor said. “Oh, did you hear the latest? Cecelia has resigned from the boards of every charity she was involved with that hadn’t already asked for her resignation. She’s moving to Australia.”

  “Australia?” Jennifer said incredulously. “She doesn’t intend to visit her son in prison?”

  “Apparently not. She’s packing up and leaving the country, didn’t even invite her grandson Stephen to go along. I must mingle, mingle,” the mayor said, then hurried away.

  “And Cecelia Gardner calls herself a mother,” Jennifer muttered.

  “Don’t get started on that subject,” Evan said, chuckling. “Hey, there’s Belinda and her husband at that table over there. Shall we join them?”

  “Yes, that’s perfect,” Jennifer said.

  They wove their way through the throng of people, being stopped often to receive congratulations and handshakes. Each time Jennifer replied with a simple thank-you, while Evan said the credit for the courtroom victory was due to the detectives who refused to admit defeat over not having found the missing ring. They spoke briefly with Josh and Maggie, then Colin and Darien exchanged best wishes for the future.

  When they finally reached the table, Belinda introduced her husband Henry to Jennifer, then Evan and Henry exchanged handshakes and genuine smiles that reflected their long-standing friendship. Henry was a tall, distinguished-appearing man in his early sixties.

  “So,” Belinda said, once Jennifer and Evan were settled onto their chairs, “have you chosen a wedding dress yet, Jennifer?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Jennifer said. “I’ve been a tad busy editing the film for the documentary. Besides, I don’t need a fancy gown. I told you it’s going to be a very small group of people at the ceremony, you and Henry included, of course.”

  “Are you starting a list of possible names for the baby?” Belinda said.

  “Belinda, for crying out loud,” Henry said, “Miss Manners would tar and feather you. You don’t ask the bride-to-be about her wedding dress one minute, then inquire about names for the expected baby in the next second.”

  “Well, why not?” Belinda said. “Would it become proper if we discussed the weather between the two subjects? That’s silly.”

  Jennifer laughed. “It’s all right, Henry. To answer your question, Belinda, the name Daniel was rejected by the daddy-to-be about an hour ago.”

  “The name Joe DiMaggio didn’t cut it with the mama, either,” Evan said, smiling.

  “I should hope not.” Belinda frowned at Evan. “That’s a ridiculous name.”

  “I liked it,” Evan said, shrugging.

  “I still say,” Henry said, “that you don’t ask about the wedding dress in the same breath as inquiring about the coming baby, for heaven’s sake.”

  “This baby is no secret, Henry.” Jennifer laughed. “I’m surprised that the mayor held himself back from mentioning our little bundle of joy. Of course, he may have missed Evan’s statement that has been quoted in the newspapers ad nauseam in the twenty-four hours since he delivered his pearly words. Apparently you didn’t see it, Henry.”

  “I guess I did miss that.” Henry looked at Evan. “What did you say?”

  “I missed it, too,” Belinda said. “Evan, what have you gone and done?”

  Evan frowned. “Well, hey, I could understand the press wanting details on the breaking news about the Gardner case, and how did I feel about the documentary, but they wouldn’t stop there. They’d heard a rumor about Jennifer and me being involved with each other and pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until…”

  “Uh-oh,” Belinda said.

  “Until,” Jennifer said, then dissolved in a fit of laughter and shook her head.

  “Evan Stone,” Belinda said, narrowing her eyes, “spill it.”

  “Well, hell, is it any of their business? No. So I decided to end the speculation, the questions and rumors, the whole nine yards. I said that yes, Jennifer Anderson and I were planning to be married and that baby boy Stone would be attending the wedding, much to our joyous delight.”

  Henry put his head back and roared with laughter, which set Jennifer off again. The sound was infectious and Belinda and Evan’s laughter soon intertwined. People near the table glanced over, wondering enviously what joke they had missed. When the four finally settled down, Henry became quite serious.

  “Humor me here, Evan,” he said, “then I promise to change the subject to something more pleasant. I’ve been out of the country for weeks on business and just flew in this evening.

  “I scanned the newspapers Belinda had saved for me for details of the Gardner case, but didn’t have a chance to really digest it, then my beloved wife was bringing me up to date on family news during the drive from home to the party. Would you mind clearing up a question for me?”

  “No, I don’t mind. What has your brilliant brain baffled, Henry?”

  “I know about the prostitution ring that Franklin Gardner was running, fine fella that he was,” Henry said. “Then, I take it, Lyle discovered the truth about his younger brother and confronted him, resulting in the nasty fistfight between the two.”

  Evan nodded.

  “Lyle panicked,” Belinda said, “and tried to make it look like Franklin interrupted a burglary of his fancy-dancy apartment. Lyle stabbed him with an ice pick after Franklin was already dead from whopping his head on a table. Lyle might have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for the impression left of Lyle’s ring in the bruises on Franklin’s face. Then Lyle stashed the ring in a pawnshop in Michigan and on the story goes. You know all that part, Henry.”

  “Yes, that much is clear,” Henry said. “Those two detectives did a heck of a fine job by finding that ring. Incredible.”

  “Jennifer, tell the baby not to listen to this terrible tale about ice picks and dead bodies,” Belinda said. “The poor little darling will have nightmares in there.”

  “Oh, okay,” Jennifer said, patting her stomach.

  “What was your question, Henry?” Evan said, raising his eyebrows.

  “It doesn’t work for me, that’s all. Here we have a man…Lyle…who is so distraught about his brother…Franklin…destroying lives of innocent young girls that he confronts his brother about the prostitution business.”

  “Mmm,” Evan said.

  “How can a man…and this is my question finally…who is that sensitive and sickened by the horror befalling those girls turn around and beat the pulp out of his brother, then stick him with an ice pick, for heaven’s sake? Panicked or not, the two sides of the man don’t match up. They really don’t.” Henry shook his head.

  “Because you’ve assumed that Lyle was concerned for the young girls, Henry,” Jennifer said. “That’s not why he confronted Franklin. Lyle was worried that if what Franklin was doing was ever made public knowledge the Gardner name would be tarnished, leading to the Gardner power and social status being diminished. He couldn’t bear the thought of that.” She nodded decisively.
“Lyle definitely learned his attitude at his mother’s knee.”

  “Oh, I see,” Henry said. “Well, that makes sense then. Lyle was a scumball.”

  “Right.” Jennifer turned to Evan. “You’ve been so patient with everyone who has stopped you and blithered on about the case, and it was really nice of you to answer Henry’s question, Evan, but this is a party and I think we should go visit that yummy-looking buffet over there.”

  “Hear, hear,” Belinda said. “Jennifer is eating for two now, and I’m going to do the same because I’m such a dedicated friend.”

  Jennifer and Belinda got to their feet and began to chat as Henry and Evan rose more slowly.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Evan,” Henry said, frowning. “It was Belinda and Jennifer who…”

  “I know,” Evan said, smiling, “and I doubt seriously that they realize it. Trust me, Henry, I understand this stuff. It’s a woman thing. And as far as my woman goes? I intend to enjoy every crazy, wonderful, loving minute with Jennifer for the rest of my life.”

  BODY OF EVIDENCE

  Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6786-6

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  PREMEDITATED PASSION

  Copyright © 2003 by Carolyn Joyner

  BEHIND THE BADGE

  Copyright © 2003 by Janice Davis Smith

  VERDICT: MARRIAGE

  Copyright © 2003 by Joan Elliott Pickart

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.