Rumors: The McCaffertys: The McCaffertys: ThorneThe McCaffertys: Matt

by Lisa Jackson

  “Go fish!” one little voice yelled proudly.

  Matt took a swig from his cup, scowled at the bitter taste, tossed the remainder down the sink and tried to fight the restlessness that seemed to be his constant companion these days. “I think I’ll go into town,” he said, striding to the back door and grabbing his jacket. “I’ll check on Randi.”

  “You don’t wants to play?” one of the twins—Mindy, he thought—asked.

  “Not right now, darlin’,” he said, smiling and tousling her dark curls. “I’ll take a rain check.” Her face pulled into a little knot of confusion. “I mean I’ll play with you another time, okay?”

  “’Kay,” she replied, and he felt a tug on his heart. Yep, he was getting way too tied up here. He grabbed his jacket off a hook near the back porch.

  A chorus of “byes” followed after him until the door slammed shut. On one level he was glad his older brother was getting married. It was about time, and Nicole, even with her ready-made family, was a helluva catch, a beautiful woman who could handle Thorne like none other. That they loved each other was obvious to everyone. They planned to stay here at the house, rent Nicole’s cottage in town and, eventually, once Randi woke up, build nearby.

  If Randi ever woke up. Matt scowled into the night as his boots crunched through the crusted snow. Clouds covered the moon and stars, but so far the snow had held off. He slid into his truck and tore out of the lot. First he’d drive to the hospital, check on Randi, then he’d cruise by the station and see if Detective Dillinger was working and if not…

  What then?

  He pulled onto the two-lane highway and headed south toward Grand Hope without coming up with an answer.

  * * *

  “So I was gonna invite you over for a glass of wine, but since you’re out, it’ll have to wait until I get back from Seattle,” Kelly said, leaving a message on her sister’s answering machine. “I’ll be back the night before Thanksgiving. See ya then.”

  Kelly hung up and stretched. She’d poured herself a glass of wine and had hoped that her sister would join her, but since she couldn’t reach Karla, she’d have to alter her plans slightly. Instead of girl talk around the fire, or playing a board game with Karla’s boys, Kelly decided on a bath and a good book. She hadn’t soaked in the tub in ages, rarely had enough time. Instead she showered in the morning and, if she needed it, again at night. Fast, easy, done in five minutes. But tonight, after being chilled to her bones from working all day outside investigating accident scenes and vandalism to property, she decided she deserved the luxury of soft music.

  She stripped off her uniform, twisted her hair into a loose knot, lit two white tapers and filled the tub with hot water. She left her glass of wine and book on the rim of the tub, then settled into the warm, scented water.

  It felt like heaven.

  She sank lower, half closing her eyes as the candles flickered and the heat seeped into her bloodstream, loosening the tension from her muscles. Her mind ran in slower and slower circles, winding down to eventually stop dead center at Matt McCafferty. Despite her warnings to the contrary, she thought about kissing him and her response. Deep. Heart-stopping. Breathless. He’d left her with her knees weak and an ache beginning to throb deep inside her.

  Oh, she was playing with fire with that man. Kissing him was a luxury she couldn’t allow herself again. At least not until the mystery surrounding his half sister was solved, and God knew when that would be. Soon…it had to be soon. She sipped her wine and tried to get into the mystery, but as she read one paragraph over and over again, she thought of Randi McCafferty’s unfinished novel and she wondered at its significance. Rodeos. Barrel racing. Bareback broncos. Matt McCafferty. She could nearly picture him, lean body tense and rigid, one hand raised, the other tight around the strap surrounding a muscular, headstrong rodeo horse. With a sigh she gave up on her book and set it on the ledge. “Forget him,” she chided. Closing her eyes, she nearly drifted off when she heard the doorbell chime softly over the music playing on the radio.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  Who in the devil would be dropping by?

  Karla.

  Her sister had gotten home, heard the phone message and hurried over.

  “Coming!” she yelled as she stepped out of the tub, threw on her bathrobe and cinched the belt tightly around her waist. She slipped into scuffs and hurried down the stairs to the door, where she peeked through the peephole. Karla wasn’t anywhere around, but Matt McCafferty, larger than life through the fish-eye lens, was staring back at her.

  Her silly heart skipped a beat. She threw the bolt and swung open the door before she realized she was wearing nothing—not one solitary stitch—beneath the yellow terry robe.

  His eyes widened just a fraction and for a second he actually seemed tongue-tied as he looked down at her. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” he said, and she swallowed a smile. Obviously he was expecting Detective Kelly Dillinger to answer the door, that he would be face-to-face with a no-nonsense officer of the law, dressed in full uniform and probably packing heat.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked.

  He nodded, his eyebrows knitting into one dark line. “I was in town and I thought I’d…well, I guess I should have called.” His lips compressed together and his glance shifted to one side. “I thought maybe you’d like to go out for a drink or a cup of coffee or something.”

  “Or something?” she prodded, amused and flattered.

  “I should have called.”

  “That’s usually the way it’s done, yes,” she said, not giving him an inch. Her pulse fluttered ridiculously and her heartbeat cranked up a notch as she stood in the doorway.

  God, she was gorgeous, Matt thought, wondering what had compelled him to her doorstep. He’d told himself it was because he was keeping an eye on the sheriff department’s investigation, that it was all business, but deep inside, he knew there was more to it, more than he cared to admit. He’d argued with himself as he’d driven to her row house, tried to convince himself to turn back to the ranch, but here he was, the victim of his own sexual drive, for that’s what it was; he wanted to see her because she was an intriguing, sassy, beautiful woman. He’d expected to find a slim, all-business policewoman dressed in her uniform…but this…this fascinating lady was even more irresistible. Kelly appeared smaller, more vulnerable, incredibly feminine and damned sexy in that thick yellow duster. Her hair was piled onto her head, some strands escaping to curl in damp ringlets around a flushed face with incredible cheekbones, dark-fringed, mocking eyes and a saucy mouth curved into an amused smile.

  “I suppose it’s too late.”

  “For a date? Tonight?” she asked, folding her arms under her chest and allowing him just a peek at cleavage where the lapels of her robe overlapped. “I think so.”

  He felt like a schoolboy as he worked the brim of his hat between his fingers. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be out of town. It’s a working vacation. I’ll be back in a couple of days....”

  “Maybe we can get together then.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “No?” He couldn’t help himself. Something in the defiant tilt of her chin challenged him.

  “Well, you know, it might not be the proper thing to do.”

  “You’re worried about propriety?” He didn’t believe it.

  “I wouldn’t want to do anything where my professionalism or objectivity might be questioned.”

  Was it his imagination or did her eyes twinkle with a dare? The scent of jasmine reached his nostrils and he couldn’t help himself. “The hell with professionalism,” he growled. His arms surrounded her.

  She gasped. “Now, wait a second.”

  “And damn objectivity.” He slanted his mouth over hers. Her lips were warm and tasted faintly of wine. She moaned quietly and he kissed her harder, rubbing his mouth over hers, wrapping his arms more tightly around her body, feeling her melt
against him.

  The fire in his blood ignited. His fingers curled in the soft folds of her robe. He felt her quiver and it was his undoing. Deftly, he reached down, picked her off her feet and crossed the threshold.

  “Hey,” she said breathlessly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  With a heel he kicked the door closed. “What I’ve wanted to do from the first time I saw you,” he said, carrying her up the stairs and unerringly to her bedroom. Candles from the adjoining bath gave off a soft, glimmering illumination that reflected in the foggy mirrors and windows as he tumbled with her onto an antique bed covered with a plush comforter.

  Kelly knew she should object, that she should resist the temptation of his touch, but his lips were magic, his hands warm and persuasive. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and neck as he somehow shrugged out of his jacket and let it drop to the floor. Work-roughened fingers scraped her robe open and he pressed his lips against the curve of her suddenly bare shoulder.

  Flames of desire licked through her blood.

  He untied the knot of her belt and lowered himself onto the bed. His breath was hot against the cleft between her breasts and she tingled inside, felt the first dark stirrings of want.

  Don’t do this, Kelly. Don’t. This is the biggest mistake of your life! Think, dammit.

  But she couldn’t. His hands and mouth were seductive, chasing away all doubts, and try as she might, she couldn’t find credence in any of the reasons she called up that might put an end to his lovemaking. She knew that her father and mother would disapprove, that her boss would consider this an act of betrayal insofar as she would compromise the investigation and her badge, that her sister would remind her that a McCafferty was the worst possible choice of a lover and yet…and yet…his lips were so warm and seductive, the ache deep within her impossible to deny.

  He pulled the pins from her hair with his teeth just as the knot holding her robe together gave way, parting as his hand skimmed her skin beneath the rich cotton. A jolt of desire shot through her bloodstream. Kissing her cheek, he glanced down at her body. “I knew you’d be beautiful, Detective,” he said, touching one nipple with the flat of his hand. “I knew it.” He squeezed the dark bud gently and her entire breast began to ache. Oh, she wanted this man. She bucked up and he leaned forward, his mouth surrounding her nipple, his teeth lightly scraping her skin, his tongue laving.

  Damn, but she was melting inside, feeling warm, moist heat coiling between her legs. As if he understood, he trailed one hand lower, fingers skimming her abdomen to delve deep into the curls where her legs joined. Lower still he probed, searching her cleft expertly, finding the nub that drove her wild, kissing her breasts as lust stormed through her blood. She moaned deep in her throat and shifted, anxiously wanting more…so much more…everything he could give…everything he would. Her skin was on fire, sweat dampening her forehead.

  Her fingers tore at the buttons of his shirt, delving beneath the cotton to touch a hard-muscled chest covered in springy black hair. She touched taut, sinewy muscles, felt him tremble, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him, all of him, rubbing against her—skin on skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. And still he touched her deep inside. She gasped. Gripped his shoulders hard.

  “Oh…oh…” She swallowed hard and felt as if her entire being was centered in that small spot that he rubbed intently. She writhed, sweated as if in a fever, felt the storm brewing hotter, and wilder.

  “That’s a girl,” he whispered across her breasts, fanning the flames. “Just let go…”

  The world seemed to spin. His lips found hers again, his tongue rimmed her mouth, his breath hot and wild against her already flushed skin. “Please,” she murmured, her voice so low she didn’t recognize it. “Please… Matt…oh, please…”

  “Anything for you, darlin’.”

  She reached for the waistband of his jeans, felt his erection straining against the worn denim. “Then…”

  With his free hand he grabbed her wrist. “In time, darlin’, in time.” His ministrations increased and she lolled back, closed her eyes, writhed and cried out as the first spasm jolted her, sending her skyrocketing through space, her soul streaking through the heavens.

  “Oooh,” she sighed, gasping, trying to take in any air.

  But he wasn’t finished. His fingers delved again, deeper, faster, pushing her to the limits again. Her fingers dug into his bare shoulders and she cried out as convulsion after convulsion ripped through her.

  “Matt…oh…Matt…” She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, but knew she needed him, all of him, wanted the feel of his hard body joining with her.

  She found his belt and her fingers fumbled with the huge rodeo buckle that held the strap together. Before he could protest, she kissed him, touched the tip of her tongue to his, invited him to enter her.

  Groaning, sweat sheening his skin, he stretched out beside her, giving her better access, no longer fighting her.

  Click.

  The buckle was open.

  Pop. Pop. Pop.

  His fly gave way.

  He felt a rush of cool air against his skin and bit his lips as her fingers brushed over his bare shaft.

  Ding.

  Somewhere a bell began to chime. A doorbell.

  “Oh, no.” Kelly’s hand fell away. She turned a dozen shades of red.

  “Expectin’ someone?” he asked lazily, amused.

  “No.”

  The bell chimed again. Insistently.

  “Someone wants to see you real bad.”

  “Oh, damn. Karla! I—I left her a message earlier, on her machine…she’s probably got her sons with her.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes.

  “Who’s Karla?”

  “Oh. My sister. Just…just wait.” Kelly hurled herself off the bed, dashed to the closet, grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans, then darted to the bathroom.

  Matt zipped up his pants. Hooked his belt. The damned bell rang again and this time a woman’s worried voice followed after it. “Kelly? Are you there? It’s me.”

  “I know. I know,” Kelly grumbled as she emerged from the bathroom. Barefoot but dressed, she was snapping her hair into a rubber band. Then, spying Matt still lounging on the bed, she hissed, “You, go sit in the living room for goodness’ sake and pour yourself a glass of wine or something. Look like you’ve been in there all the time. Make it look…like we’ve been discussing the case, for crying out loud, and then…and then—” she stopped short at the foot of the bed and sighed loudly, then sent him a rueful glance “—and then brace yourself.”

  She disappeared out the door of the bedroom and he heard her footsteps hurrying down the stairs.

  Matt hitched up his jeans, sauntered into the living room and, finding an open bottle of wine, went to a cupboard, plucked a long-stemmed glass from the shelf and heard the door open somewhere downstairs. Female voices reached him.

  “Jeez, Kelly, didn’t you hear the doorbell ring? I darned well froze my tail off waiting for you!” Footsteps pounded up the stairs. “What took you so long to…” A small woman with short red-blond hair and wide green eyes that landed full force on Matt appeared. “Uh-oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks and the playful smile that had been tugging at the corners of her mouth faded. “Kelly…what’s going on here?” Her eyes narrowed a fraction and zeroed in on the wineglass in Matt’s hand.

  “Oh. Well. Matt came over to discuss the case.”

  “Matt?” the woman repeated.

  Kelly entered the room and despite the circumstances seemed cool. “Yes. Matt McCafferty, this is my sister, Karla.”

  “Pleased to meet ya,” Matt drawled as Kelly’s sister seemed all the more disconcerted. He had the manners to reach across the counter and clasp Karla’s reluctantly offered hand.

  “Oh, yeah, me, too,” Karla said, rolling her expressive eyes before catching a hard look from her sister. “Wait a minute, is this for real?”

  “What do you mean?” Kelly said. “Is what for
real? Matt and I were going over—”

  “Whoa.” Karla held her hands up, the fingers of her right pointing into the palm of her left. “Time out, okay?” She skewered both Kelly and Matt in her hard glare. “Don’t give me any garbage about the case. I’ve got eyes, Kelly.” She gave her sister an exaggerated once-over. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Care for something to drink? A glass of wine?” Matt offered as he grabbed another stemmed glass from the cupboard and began to pour from the bottle of chardonnay.

  “I think I need something stronger, but yeah, okay.”

  “There isn’t anything stronger. I already asked.”

  Karla didn’t so much as blink, just took the drink from Matt’s hand and, with one last condemning glare at her sister, plopped down in a rattan chair covered with a plump green cushion. “So how is the investigation going?” she asked with more than an edge of sarcasm.

  “There are some snags, of course, and we keep coming up against dead ends, but I think we’re making progress.”

  “Ummm.” Karla swirled her wine but obviously wasn’t buying her sister’s story.

  Matt emptied the bottle into another glass and gave the drink to Kelly.

  “I’m leaving for Seattle tomorrow,” she explained, and fielded the questions Karla shot at her. From the gist of the conversation he gathered that Karla, after hearing Kelly’s open invitation left on her answering machine, had decided to stop by. The younger Dillinger sibling had pawned her kids off on her folks and driven over, only to find Matt already here. For some reason his presence rankled Karla, and there was more to it than disappointment at having to share her sister for the evening. No, there were undercurrents of resentment running through the conversation and pooling in her eyes.

  Rounding the kitchen bar, he joined the women in Kelly’s small living room. He’d expected her apartment to be neat and tidy, functional yet spartan, but, as with everything about this woman, he’d been dead wrong. The row house wasn’t cluttered but definitely had a lived-in feel. A raised counter separated the living room from the kitchen. Along with the rattan chair, there was an antique rocker, a tan couch with floppy pillows and a beveled-glass coffee table that appeared to match a lawyer’s bookcase, crammed with all manner of paperbacks and criminology texts. A fussy walnut secretary occupied one corner and a collection of candles and photographs graced the mantel of a small fireplace.