by Lisa Jackson
He adjusted the seat, started the engine, flipped on his blinker and merged with southbound traffic, skirting the Sound.
True to his word, he drove her directly to one of the parking lots near the airport where her little Dodge ragtop was wedged between a Toyota wagon and a Cadillac.
“How’d you find this?” she asked.
He grinned. “Professional secret.”
“Give me a break.” She opened the passenger door of the Jeep but before she could step out, his hand surrounded her wrist. “I’ll meet you at your apartment later,” he said, and she felt her pulse jump a bit.
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”
“Got to keep up appearances, don’t we?”
“For whom?” A part of her was anxious to be alone with him, to continue their little lie—make that big lie—to be with him in the apartment, to sit in front of the fire with a glass of wine, to kiss and hold him and touch every inch of him, and yet she knew that the longer she put off the inevitable, the more time she wasted pretending they were in love, the harder their eventual breakup would be. She needed to protect her heart.
He rounded the Jeep’s hood and stood next to her as she forced her key into the compact’s lock.
“Don’t,” she warned before he laid one finger on her.
“Nikki—” He tried to touch her, but she drew away.
“I really can’t go on living this lie,” she said, her voice hitching a little. Oh, Lord, she wasn’t going to break down now, was she? She jammed the key harder into the lock and twisted.
“You have to.”
She stiffened.
“For your safety.”
That was too much. Whirling to face him, she left her keys dangling from the lock. “Oh, for crying out loud! Let’s not get into this again. You know where I live, where I work, all about my parents, family, even my ex-boyfriend, for God’s sake. And what do I know about you? Nothing! Not one blessed thing. But I’m supposed to feel ‘safe’ with you. Give it up, McKenzie.”
“You can’t get rid of me.”
“Sure I can. As of now, we’re divorced.”
He barked out a laugh that bordered on cruel, then grabbed her quickly and swung her against him. She gasped as his mouth descended on hers, kissing her so hard she couldn’t breathe. Her knees buckled and her head was spinning. Don’t let him do this to you! a part of her brain screamed, but another part sighed in contentment.
Propped against the still-wet side of her car, the door handle and her keys digging into her buttocks, she tried to call up every reason in the world to push him away, attempted to recover her hard-nosed stance and insist that they had to end their affair, but her heart was pumping wildly, her body ached for the touch of him, and her determination seemed to slip away, inch by inch, just as the sun slid slowly beneath the horizon.
Her senses swam, and it seemed natural to wind her arms around his neck and tilt her head eagerly to feel his mouth against hers. His tongue parted her lips and she shivered with anticipation of that glorious invasion as it touched and danced with hers.
When he lifted his head, his breath came out in a rush and she swallowed with difficulty. This felt so right and she knew it was so wrong. Loving him would only cause more heartache, more pain.
Touching his forehead to hers, he held her close. “Let’s not argue about this, okay. I’ll meet you at home.”
“My home,” she clarified.
“Yes, Nikki, your home.”
He didn’t move as she slipped into the driver’s seat of her convertible. The upholstery molded to her contours; the seat was the right distance from the throttle for the length of her legs. Shoving the gearshift into Reverse, she backed the car out of its tight slot, slammed into Drive and, with a squeal of tires, threaded her way through the parking lot.
Trent watched her go and wondered how in the hell he was ever going to ease back into his old routine. Once this Crowley mess was settled, there would be no reason to see her, no reason to find excuses to be with her, no reason to scheme ways to get her into his bed.
Angry at himself, the world in general, and most pointedly at Diamond Jim, he kicked at the tire of his Jeep, felt a jarring pain all the way from his foot to his hip and swore under his breath. From the first time he’d seen Nikki Carrothers he’d felt his heartbeat catch, suspected that she was a woman like no other he’d ever seen. When he’d found out that she was working on a story about Crowley, he’d learned everything he could about her. The more he knew, the more fascinated he’d become until, like Crowley, she had become his obsession. One good. One evil. A balance.
But Trent hadn’t expected to become more entranced with her as the days had passed. His intuition had been right, he thought grimly as he stepped into the Jeep. She was different. Stubborn, determined, relentless—not exactly female qualities that he’d hoped to find in his wife.
His hands poised in midair over the steering wheel. Wife? What was he thinking? He didn’t want a wife, never had and especially would never want a bullheaded, prideful, arrogant woman like Nikki. No, he’d always gone for the softly feminine type, curvy, flirtatious, not too many brains. Those kind of relationships were easy to end.
There had been a few intelligent women in his life, women who were attractive to him on a level he didn’t trust, women who had a chance of toying with his heart and his mind, and he’d avoided them like the proverbial plague. But with Nikki, things were different.
He jammed his key into the ignition, punched the throttle and roared after her. A cynical smile curved his lips. At first he’d played the role of her protector for the singular reason of keeping her safe, but as the marriage charade had worked and he’d been forced into close contact with her, he’d found his attraction to her impossible to fight. She’d been vulnerable and alone in the hospital, frightened, but as the days had passed and she’d healed, Trent had caught a glimpse of the woman within, the woman who seemed to have wrapped her long fingers around his heart and given a hard tug.
Hell, what a mess! And now, here he was, chasing her. Fitting, he thought with more than a trace of irony curving his lips. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d be chasing her for the rest of his life.
* * *
Nikki felt a new power as she drove. Following a nonending stream of glowing red taillights, working her way from freeway to exit, turning on the radio to stations that were as familiar as a favorite old robe, she realized she was beginning to understand herself. Memory flashes were coming as rapidly as the street signs, milestones of her past flashing through her brain.
She remembered a little black dog named Succotash, her favorite doll, her mother lighting a cigarette and warning her never to pick up the habit herself, the fights that seemed to wave from her parents’ bedroom every night when she was in junior high school, her mother’s increasing fascination with wine, the splitting of her family, painful and hard. She’d felt as if the underpinnings of her entire world had been ripped away, all the security she’d known had been stripped from her. That bleak period in her life was the only time she could remember seeing her father cry. Her chin wobbled a bit before her thoughts centered on happier moments, her senior prom and the sparkly white chiffon dress she’d worn only to spill orange punch on the skirt.
Tears studded her eyes as her life began to make sense and the holes and gaps in the jigsaw puzzle of her existence became smaller. She had a life—a life she could recall.
She remembered dating Dave Neumann. Dave. He was her first truly serious relationship, the first man she’d ever considered marrying. He was handsome and witty and they’d spent hours together, planning a future that somehow hadn’t quite jelled. He’d wanted a condo in the city and she’d wanted a house in the suburbs. He’d wanted to wait at least ten years for children and wasn’t sure that babies and diapers and midnight feedi
ngs would ever fit into his well-ordered life. He’d planned vacations around his work schedule and insisted that he go where he could “write off” the trip for business purposes rather than choosing a spot for fun or adventure.
No wonder the relationship had died a slow and painful death.
As she wheeled her little Dodge off the freeway, she considered herself lucky. They’d broken up “temporarily” to “test their relationship” to “find out for sure that they weren’t making a big mistake.” It had been Dave’s idea and had all sounded so rational. So clinical. So lacking passion. Well, to hell with that. If Trent had taught her anything, it was that she was a passionate person. Sexually, intellectually and morally. For that, she supposed, she should be thankful.
Trent. Oh, God, what was she going to do with him? It had been easier to deal with him when she’d believed they were married, but now, knowing that there were decisions looming ahead—hard, painful, future-determining decisions—she was frightened. After the breakup with Dave, she’d told herself that she would never, never get involved with a man who tried to run her life. Well, Trent certainly had bulldozed his way past any barriers she’d put up and lied, lied to get what he wanted.
Her teeth gritted. She was still galled at the deception.
Then there was the matter of trust. For years she’d trusted and depended upon her father, never questioning his opinions, though recently, before the trip, they had argued, and it hadn’t been the first time. She remembered Ted Carrothers’s anger, not a red-hot fury, but a quiet seething that she’d suddenly become a woman with a mind of her own, as if he couldn’t quite accept that his baby had developed into a free-thinking, high-spirited female.
“Leave Jim alone,” he’d warned her just before she’d left for Salvaje.
Now, while driving into the parking lot, Nikki shook herself out of her reverie and stood on the brakes to avoid hitting the side of the apartment house. Her throat turned to dust as she thought about the argument. They’d been seated in the shade of a striped umbrella in a restaurant on the waterfront. The scent of brine had drifted upward through the plank decking and the wind had been brisk, ruffling her father’s short hair. She and Ted Carrothers had been the only souls on the deck, all the other diners having been sane enough to seat themselves on the other side of thick glass windows.
“Jim’s a friend of mine,” her father had said as he’d motioned the waiter for another glass of gin and tonic.
“But he’s involved in a lot of shady deals, Dad,” she’d replied, tilting her chin up with determination, the wind whipping a long strand of hair over her eyes.
“He’s a politician. It goes with the job.”
“No way. I don’t believe that. Just because someone’s an elected official doesn’t mean that he has to turn into a crook.”
“The temptations—”
“Everyone has them, Dad. You do in business. I do in my job, in my life. It takes moral fiber to walk away from them.”
Her father had shaken his head, then slipped into silence while the slim waiter, clad in a green polo shirt, white jacket and black slacks, had slid another drink in front of him. Ted had taken a long swallow, compressed his lips, then stared past her to the Sound, where noisy sea gulls floated on invisible air currents high above the water and ferries churned across the dark surface, leaving thick, foamy wakes. Pleasure craft and freighters had vied for space in the choppy waters and her father had smiled sadly as he viewed a sailboat skimming along the water. He glanced down at his drink. “I felt the same way you do thirty years ago, Nicole, but as you get older, have children, face the fact that the world isn’t perfect, you accept the way things are.”
Nikki hadn’t conceded. She’d never thought of her father as weak, not once considered the fact that he might be getting old and world-weary. “I’ll never believe that all men in power are corrupt.”
“Not corrupt, Nicole. Just human. Take my advice. Leave Jim alone.”
Now her stomach twisted into a painful knot as she locked her car and headed up the stairs to her apartment. She felt cold to the bone, as if a northern wind had howled through her soul, and for a second she had the same unsettling feeling, the same uncanny awareness, that she was being watched. Perhaps even followed. “That’s paranoia, Carrothers,” she told herself, but her skin crawled and she glanced over her shoulder, hoping to hear the roar of a Jeep’s engine, or catch the wash of headlights splash over the shrubbery of the parking lot. She saw no eyes hidden in the thick rhododendrons and vine maples, no evidence that anyone was watching her. Still she shivered, but Trent didn’t appear like some mystical medieval knight to save her.
Lord, she’d be grateful for him now and her heart nearly stopped beating at the thought. She stopped dead in her tracks, midway up the stairs.
She depended on him? Oh, no! Giving herself a swift mental shake she climbed the remaining stairs, unlocked the door, flipped on the lights and tossed her coat over the back of the couch. Opening the door of the refrigerator, she cringed, then yanked out a quart of milk gone sour and bread that had started to mold. So much for dinner.
She snapped on the disposal and poured globs of sour milk and slices of fuzzy white bread down the drain. Kitchen duty accomplished, she checked her messages and listened while her sister, Jan, started asking a dozen questions on the tiny tape. “I thought you were going to call me. Come on, Nikki, I’m dying to know what’s going on.”
Her mother, too, had called, expressing concern about Nikki’s injuries and hasty marriage. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, and if your father decides to put on some kind of reception, you know that Fred and I will want to help. You’re my daughter, too, you know.”
Funny how that sounded from a mother who had left three half-grown children to find herself and a new family in L.A.
The last message was from Dave. “I don’t know why I’m calling. Just a glutton for punishment, I guess. But I need to see you and know that you’re happy.” Oh, sure. The truth of the matter was, Nikki suspected, that Dave was suddenly interested in her because she was no longer available. Now that someone else wanted her, he did, too. She laughed a little. She wasn’t married. Her relationship with Trent was doomed, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d ever try to patch things up with Dave again. If Trent had taught her anything, it was about her need for independence and the sorry fact that she needed a stronger man than Dave Neumann for a lifelong partner.
She didn’t want to return any of the calls, but decided there was no time like the present. Besides, she’d rather speak without being overheard by Trent.
She dialed from memory and smiled to think that something so simple was such a relief. Jan was out, her mother was worried, and she had just left a simple message on Dave’s recorder when there was a quick rap on the door, a click of the lock, and Trent, balancing two sacks of groceries, appeared on the other side of the threshold.
Startled, Nikki asked, “How’d you do that?” but, with a sinking sensation, she guessed the answer before he even replied.
“I have a key.”
“You what?”
“When we were on Salvaje. I had one made.”
She opened and closed her fists in frustration. Certain there was no male more maddening on the face of the earth, she narrowed her eyes on his arrogant expression. As if he belonged here! “You don’t live here.”
He didn’t bother to answer, just set the bags on the table and began placing groceries in the refrigerator and cupboards. “I figured you were out of just about everything.”
“Did you hear me?”
He sent her a sizzling glance over one leather-clad shoulder. “Loud and clear, lady.”
“You can’t just waltz in here like you own the place, like we’re married, for the love of Mike. No way.”
“Until this all dies down.”
“What? Until what dies down?” she said, closing the distance between them in long, furious strides. “Crowley.”
“Right.”
“What the hell have you got to do with it?”
“Crowley’s dangerous. You’ve figured that much out, I assume.” His gaze skated down the side of her face that had been so bruised and battered.
Her shoulders stiffened involuntarily.
“I know you think you’ve got to do some damned exposé on him, but I think you’d better leave Crowley to me.”
“What will you do with him?” she asked, shoving a sack of groceries out of the way, grabbing Trent’s arm and forcing him to face her. A head of lettuce rolled off the counter and onto the floor, but she didn’t care, didn’t give a damn about the food.
Trent’s face hardened. “I’ll handle him.”
“Will you?” she tossed back at him. Her piece on Crowley came back to her, a series of articles about bribery and special interests. If her sources were correct, the senator not only took care of the few and the wealthy, he also accepted large gifts from corporations in the state of Washington and all along the Pacific Rim.
She was still holding on to Trent’s arm. “Look, Nikki, you can believe what you want about me, I don’t really care, but I don’t want you getting hurt.” His words were soothing, and she stepped away from him, away from the magic of his voice, the seduction in his eyes.
“Don’t start this again, okay?”
“It’s true, damn it!” Muttering under his breath, he dragged her into his arms and she froze. How easy it would be to let her knees and heart give way; to fall against him and rely upon him, to let him make decisions for her, to depend upon his judgment. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone, take his hands off her, take a long walk off a short pier...
But she couldn’t. Bracing herself against the refrigerator door, she turned her head and her curtain of hair fell over one shoulder. He pressed his advantage, his lips brushing the back of her neck. Tingles of anticipation raced along her nerves and his arms wound around her waist, pulling her close, her buttocks wedging against the hardness forming in his jeans. She wanted to melt against him. Her bones were turning liquid as his mouth moved along the bend of her neck and his hands splayed over her abdomen, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts.