by Jami Alden
She put her forehead to her sheet covered knees. Five minutes. That’s all she was giving herself to wallow and kick herself for her own stupidity. Not so much for letting herself sleep with him. Really, who could blame her? Caroline and James hadn’t had sex for nearly a year before he’d been killed, and even before that it was nothing worth bragging to the tennis group about.
Unlike some of her set, Caroline was faithful with a capital F, and never considered finding satisfaction with the poolboy, or the masseur, or the tennis instructor, or any of the other young, good looking, easy going guys some of her acquaintances seemed to collect like stamps.
So when met with a full frontal assault from the one man who had always been able to make her wet and willing by just looking at her the right way, it should be expected that she would be a little vulnerable. That she would indulge.
What she couldn’t forgive herself for, she thought as she stepped into a shower hot enough to peel off a layer of skin, was allowing herself to think, even for a second, that maybe…maybe this still raging sexual connection meant that something deeper existed between them. He remembered things from when they’d been together and he hadn’t hesitated to use them to get to her. Maybe that meant something.
Right. As if that would be enough for her to get over him for tearing her heart out, him to get over his own anger at her. If they managed that, there would still be the issue of her dead husband’s involvement in his mother’s death to work through.
If they could only accomplish all that, maybe they could find their way back to each other. Just thinking it through was enough to make her hysterical laughter echo off the shower stall. It was either that or sob uncontrollably.
She scrubbed herself with the tiny, cheap bar of soap, and lathered her hair with an envelope of two in one shampoo and conditioner, but she couldn’t get the scent of sex, of him off of her. She lathered herself twice from head to toe, but it was as though he’d marked her. It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes she was back in the damn hotel that was just like that one, the one he’d forced her to remember before proving to her once again that while the sex they had was off the charts, beyond compare, as a couple they were irretrievably broken.
They had been broken twelve years ago, and one hot round between the sheets wasn’t going to change that.
Caroline emerged from the bathroom, relieved to find Danny still gone. She pulled her clothes on and borrowed a comb from his toiletry kit to untangle her hair. She checked her phone and saw that Kate had called twice.
Caroline, I haven’t heard from you in two days, and I’m starting to get worried.
She winced guiltily. She’d been so caught up in everything lately she hadn’t returned Kate’s calls. She knew Kate must be worried, especially after what happened to Rachael.
She hit CALL REPLY, but her phone beeped a warning and died before the call could go through.
Crap. She’d forgotten to charge her battery. She used the hotel phone to call, not surprised when Kate didn’t pick up at the unfamiliar number. Caroline left a message explaining the phone issue and telling Kate to call her back.
The room phone rang less than a minute later. “What’s going on with you?” Kate asked before Caroline could even get out a “hello.” “Why haven’t you called me back? I was getting worried.”
Caroline apologized. “We’ve been really busy. We’ve found some new information—”
“We? You mean you and the private investigator guy? What have you found out? Any more information about Dad?” Kate asked in her typical breathless manner.
Guilt pricked Caroline as she struggled with how much to reveal. She hated keeping Kate in the dark, but like Danny, she didn’t want to inadvertently give too much away until they knew who they were up against. “We’re following some leads, that’s all I can say right now. I just wanted to let you know I’m safe.”
“Where are you, anyway? I don’t recognize the area code.”
“Believe it or not, we got stuck in a blizzard in some little town you’ve probably never heard of.”
Kate asked what kind of lead would take them up there, but Caroline blew her off. “It’s too much to go into right now. We’ll be heading back as soon as the roads clear, and I’ll fill you in next time I see you.”
“Fine,” Kate said, her annoyance at Caroline’s continued evasiveness evident in her voice.
“Can I talk to Mikey real quick?”
“Actually I need to get going. I’m dropping off Mikey at the sitter’s a little early so I can have dinner with someone before class.”
Caroline shoved back her disappointment, along with the suspicion that Kate’s refusal to let her talk to Michael was a punishment for not telling her everything they’d discovered. She was probably just in a hurry. Since when had everyone’s motives become suspect?
Since your husband was killed, someone tried to pin the murder on you, and then tried to kill you, that’s when.
Maybe a little caution was justified.
“Really? Anyone special?” Caroline asked, trying to inject a little enthusiasm in her voice. Kate hadn’t dated much at all since Michael was born. She had been so messed up by what Spike had put her through she’d been totally gun-shy about dating anyone since Michael’s birth four years ago.
“Maybe. But I don’t want to jinx it by talking too much about it. I gotta run.”
Caroline hung up, a little miffed Kate wouldn’t share the details of her date. Maybe she wasn’t sharing because she was afraid Caroline wouldn’t approve. She hoped not. Thanks to Spike, the bar was pretty low. As far as Caroline was concerned, anyone with a brain, a job, and an appreciation for Kate was fine with her.
For awhile Caroline thought there might be something going on between Kate and Marshall, one of James’s associates at Medford and Kingston. He’d been sniffing hopefully around Kate ever since he’d joined the firm five years ago, and even Kate’s relationship with Spike and the birth of Michael hadn’t seemed to dampen his enthusiasm.
It would be good for her to date a guy like Marshall. Stable, steady, and obviously smitten.
Unlike some other men Caroline could think of. Maybe she should take a page from Kate’s book and avoid any emotional entanglements with big tough bad boys who were nothing but bad news.
Caroline turned her attention to putting the room back in order, her resolve strengthening as she went through the comforting ritual of straightening up. First the bed, stripped then remade with precise hospital corners. Then the bathroom, towels draped evenly over the rack, counters wiped down. She even folded the end of the toilet paper roll into a point. She emptied out Danny’s duffel bag, folded, and repacked it. And even managed to stop herself from lifting his T-shirt to her nose and taking a deep inhale.
She looked at the neatly made bed and forced herself to relive every second. Especially at the end, when he had pulled away, pushed her hand from his neck, closed his eyes and gone at her like a battering ram. Broken any connection with her until she became nothing but a means to release. She’d felt it, even then, her stomach sinking, the rosy glow of orgasmic bliss fading as she felt him distance himself even before he’d finished.
But that hadn’t been enough. She had to push it, reach out, knowing full well he was going to push her away.
The bad taste she was swallowing back was her own damn fault. But in its own twisted way, that was good. From the beginning, she’d been sure Danny was flirting, teasing, pushing her to make a point. And he’d made it. He could still make her come.
And he didn’t have any lingering tenderness for her and what they had.
Message received, loud and clear.
But he didn’t realize that Caroline wasn’t the same girl who’d loved him so mindlessly years ago. She was tough, she was practical, and she could take anything he dished out. She was just as capable of having hot, sweaty, meaningless sex as he was. If he wanted to use sex to prove that the past was the past and there was nothing lef
t between them…
Bring it on.
Kate felt a rush of anticipation as she spotted Marshall across the crowded cafe. He’d tried to convince her to meet him at a fancier place near his office, but she’d held firm on meeting him someplace casual near campus.
Several people took a second look as he wound his way through the tables, flashing her his killer grin. It wasn’t just his soap star good looks that drew attention his way. In his gray suit, pressed white dress shirt and red tie, he stood out like a sore thumb in a sea of casually dressed students.
As he reached her table he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Her nose filled with the scent of hair gel and expensive cologne. She wasn’t sure she liked it.
Which was, she supposed, the problem with Marshall in general.
Still, she couldn’t help but return his smile as he took the seat across from her. “Thanks for meeting me,” he said, his teeth flashing whitely against skin so perfectly brown she wondered if he got a professional spray tan.
“No, thank you for giving me a reason to have a meal that doesn’t involve hot dogs, mac n’ cheese, or any food that comes in a nugget form.” She smiled up at the waitress as she dropped off Kate’s glass of chardonnay. She winked at Marshall’s cocked eyebrow. “Trust me, Feminist Tropes in Victorian Literature will seem a lot more interesting after I have a couple of these.”
Fine lines fanned out from Marshall’s crystal blue eyes as he returned her grin. “I’m really glad we have a chance to catch up. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”
Kate’s cheeks warmed under his frankly admiring gaze and she took a sip of her wine to ease her discomfort. She knew Marshall was attracted to her. She’d known it from the first time she’d met him five years ago when he was starting as a new associate at her father’s law firm.
At the time she’d dismissed perfect, polished Marshall with his soap opera actor good looks as too old, too boring, too lame to be anything other than entertaining eye candy. Why in the world would she want to date a lawyer, especially one who worked with her father? But since her father’s death, Marshall had shown himself to be a surprisingly good friend, quietly supportive, always available for a quick drink, coffee, meal, whatever, when she was craving a little male attention. And unlike the handful of other guys she’d tried to date in recent years, he didn’t leave skid marks when she mentioned she had a little boy waiting for her at home.
Friendship aside, she knew Marshall wanted more. There was something really flattering about having a guy like Marshall, gorgeous, successful, eminently eligible, willing to put up with her cat and mouse game after all that time. Especially when more and more lately she was feeling less like a young, sexually attractive woman, and more like a tired old mom, stuck in the grind of life as a single parent and a full time student. Between the constant low level fatigue and the ten plus pounds of baby weight she still carried—although, to be fair, after four years, she supposed the weight was officially hers—she felt about as sexy as the pair of granny panties she was sporting under her jeans.
So it was nice, she reflected as she admired the broad set of Marshall’s shoulders as he slipped off his suit coat, to be reminded that a man—especially a man as physically perfect as Marshall—found her attractive.
So what was wrong with her that she couldn’t just dive in head first? On paper, he was perfect. And therein lay the problem. There were no rough edges, no visible flaws, and something about that made Kate extremely nervous. She couldn’t shake the feeling he was hiding something under all that perfection, though there was certainly no evidence to show her otherwise.
Maybe she was just being paranoid.
“How’s Michael?” Marshall asked, looking at her expectantly.
That was another thing. Though he tried to look all interested and engaged, Kate knew he didn’t really want to hear about Mikey’s latest preschool exploits. She’d seen the zoned out look in his eyes often and knew better not to go into any deep detail. “He’s great. He’s almost mastered the alphabet.”
Marshall nodded absently and took a sip of his drink. Kate shoved back the disappointment. Could she really expect anyone to be as impressed as she was that her four-year-old could almost read already? Maybe like Caroline said, she was being too hard on him.
As though he’d read her thoughts, Marshall asked, “How’s Caroline doing? Is she okay after what happened to Rachael Weller?”
Kate put down her fork as her stomach knotted with dread. Despite Caroline’s assurances that she was fine, not to mention safe, with the private investigator she’d hired, Kate couldn’t stop worrying. “I don’t know. I talked to her earlier. Did I tell you she’s hired some private investigator?”
Marshall leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I think you might have mentioned that. What do you know about this guy?”
“Do you remember that whole thing with Alyssa Miles a couple of months ago?” Marshall nodded. “It was his firm that was involved, his brother, actually, who rescued her from her kidnappers. So I guess they know what they’re doing but…”
“What?”
Kate shook her head, hating having to explain away her unsubstantiated hunches to Marshall. He was a typical lawyer, all analytical and demanding evidence. “I don’t know. They’re looking into my father’s murder, and she won’t tell me anything about what she’s been doing for the past week. Which makes me worry that what they’ve found is bad, because Caroline and I usually talk at least once a day, and she tells me everything.”
“Maybe they haven’t found anything yet.”
Kate shook her head and drained her wine glass. “They found enough to drive up to the mountains and get stuck in a blizzard. She finally called me back from some random number in the 209 area code after I left her like ten messages.” She closed her mouth, realized she’d been babbling as she had a tendency to do. “Sorry, I don’t mean to unload on you. It’s just really driving me crazy, not knowing what’s going on with her, especially after everything that’s happened.”
He laid his hand on hers and leaned across the table. “You can always talk to me, Kate. That’s what I’m here for.”
I should kiss him. It would be the perfect moment. Just lay one on him, get this show on the road and quit dancing around the do I or don’t I question. His thumb stroked across the back of her hand. Smooth, uncalloused, almost as soft as her own. She pushed back in her chair. “I’m going to hit the ladies room,” she said and withdrew her hand as unobtrusively as possible. “If the waitress comes back, will you order me a refill?”
Jackpot. Marshall watched Kate’s lush, denim clad ass disappear through the heavy black curtains hiding the door to the cafe’s unisex bathroom.
He grabbed Kate’s phone off the table and quickly scrolled through the caller ID until he found the number she was talking about. Then he took a phone out of his pocket. Not his regular cell, but the prepaid one he used to communicate with Patrick and Gates. Though the display said, “unknown caller,” a quick call to the number got him the front desk of the Whiskey Creek Motor Inn.
Shit. Marshall diconnected and quickly dialed again.
Patrick answered on the first ring. “What do you want? I’m about to go in with a patient.”
“Just thought you might like to know Caroline and Taggart are up in Whiskey Creek. As of six p.m. they were at the Whiskey Creek Motor Inn.”
“Son of a bitch. We’re fucked.”
“Not necessarily. Remember, there’s nothing linking you to Anne Taggart or Emily Parrish. Anything they have to go on points at James.”
“That we know of. We still haven’t found the evidence James said he kept.”
Marshall made a scoffing sound and kept an eye on the bathroom for Kate. “I have serious doubts any evidence exists. James was bluffing.”
“I knew James for thirty years. The man didn’t bluff. It’s somewhere. We need to find it. And we need to take care of Caroline and Taggart.”
Marshall thought of Kate with a twinge of guilt. He knew how close Kate and her stepmother were, knew it would kill her if something happened to Caroline. “Maybe we should lay low, see how this plays out.”
“We can’t afford to waste any more time. Thanks to you and your so called clever cover-up, Caroline’s still alive, and she and Taggart have already learned too much. Once the cops figure out James was involved with Anne and Emily’s deaths, don’t you think they’ll take a harder look at who killed him? Maybe they won’t be able to brush Caroline off like they have been. And if they keep looking, what do you think they’ll find?”
“Nothing,” Marshall said firmly. “We have nothing to worry about. We’ve covered our tracks too well.”
“Right, until James’s ‘insurance policy’ gets out. Then we’re all screwed. We have no choice. We need to find that evidence, and get Caroline and Taggart out of the picture before they do any more damage. I’ll go back to Caroline’s house, you rip apart the office one more time and take another look at Kate’s place. And call Gates. Tell him where Caroline is, have him take care of it. And tell him we need it to look like an accident.”
Marshall didn’t bother pointing out that he could tell Gates whatever he wanted, but the scary motherfucker would take care of it in whatever way he deemed best.
He disconnected and tucked the phone back in his pocket as Kate rejoined him at the table. It wasn’t hard to conjure up a look of regret as he told her he had to cut dinner short. In addition to finding out what he could about Caroline and her investigation into James’s murder, he’d been looking forward to making more progress in his quest to get into Kate’s pants.
Instead of ending the evening with at least a kiss and a promise of another date—a real one—in the next couple of days, he was going to make an urgent call to ensure someone else Kate loved was taken care of once and for all.
“Really? You can’t even finish your dinner?” Kate’s full bottom lip stuck out in a pretend little girl pout. Marshall wondered what she’d do if he leaned across the table and nipped her lip the way he was dying to.