Love by Association

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  * * *

  HE DIDN’T INTEND to stay the night, didn’t ever spend an entire night in a woman’s bed. He preferred to avoid the potential for making awkward promises that he knew he couldn’t keep.

  That night taught Colin something about himself. Morning wasn’t the problem. He’d been sleeping with women he didn’t care deeply about. Having sex for physical release.

  That night taught him that sex was far more than just a route to orgasm. As he slid his body inside Chantel’s, he became a part of her, solidifying the bond that was growing between them.

  With her help, he’d gotten a condom on just before sliding home.

  And even that had felt different.

  In the past, he’d not only been practicing safe sex, he’d also been protecting both parties from unwanted pregnancies. With Chantel...

  Thinking of her possibly carrying his baby...wasn’t...horrible.

  He fell asleep with her in his arms afterward. And woke her to make love a second and then a third time during the night.

  A door closing in the hallway woke him just before five, and he knew it was time to go—to shower and be at the breakfast table on time.

  Julie could think what she liked about him. It wasn’t as if she thought he had no sex life.

  But he didn’t want anyone scrutinizing this relationship. What he had with Chantel was...untouchable.

  Leaning over, he kissed her on the shoulder. And pulled back immediately when she sprang awake and out of the bed in one second flat. Reaching down to pull the sheet up and cover herself in the next second.

  “I’m sorry.” He held up both hands before getting out of the bed and reaching for his pants. Underwear could travel home in his pocket. He should never have stayed. Clearly he’d misread something...

  “No.” Chantel slumped down to the mattress, watching as he stepped into his pants. “I’m sorry. I...” Her eyebrows drew together as she shook her head. “I’m used to being on my own. Protecting myself...”

  “Having a man kiss you awake isn’t part of your normal routine,” he said with a grin, starting to feel better.

  “Exactly. A woman has to act first and ask questions later.”

  He was struck again with the idea that her past hadn’t been as rosy as he’d first assumed. Chantel bore emotional scars.

  He wanted to bear them with her.

  “You’re telling me that you aren’t used to having a man in your bed.” His shirt hung, unbuttoned, on his shoulders.

  “That’s right.”

  “Which means that I’m different...we’re different...”

  “Exactly.” She still wasn’t smiling, though.

  He had to ask, “Do you regret last night?”

  “No.” Her answer held no hesitation or doubt. It was stated with the same straightforwardness he’d come to expect from her.

  “Good,” he told her, rounding the bed to pull her up to him. She let the sheet drop, leaving her bare breasts to press against his chest. He got hard. “I intend to do it again,” he told her against her lips, pushing his thighs into hers. “Soon.”

  She nodded, looking at him wordlessly.

  He wanted words. He needed to hear her confirm that they were in over their heads together.

  “As often as we can during the time we have together,” he added, just in case she was worried that he’d forgotten that her time in California was limited. Or maybe she was regretting that fact as much as he was?

  She nodded again.

  “So we’re clear?” he pushed. “We’re going to have sex again. Often.”

  For the third time, she nodded.

  “Chantel? Are you here with me?” he asked when what he wanted to know was what demons he’d scared up with that kiss to her shoulder. Wanted her to tell him what had her so out of sorts. Uncharacteristically out of sorts. She was someone else entirely. A woman disturbed by something. Vulnerable in one sense, and yet...not seeming the least bit weak or afraid.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m here,” she said, her voice rough around the edges, less controlled than normal—confirming that he’d unnerved her far more than an unexpected kiss would have done.

  He nodded. Deciding just to let it drop. To give her the space she so obviously needed. Just because she needed it.

  “And you meant what you said about us being exclusive during your time here?” he asked when he’d just told himself to let it go.

  “Of course. You think you’re the only one who wants that?”

  Before he could answer her, she kissed him. Long. And hard. Taking ownership of him.

  He wasn’t particularly happy about being so vulnerable. But he kissed her back. Taking ownership of her.

  The kiss was filled with passion. And more. It was the more that had his pulse clamoring. That compelled him to leave her to gather herself.

  And to promise himself that if it was humanly possible for him to eradicate her demons, he’d do so. Or die trying.

  “I have to go,” he said with one last kiss.

  Sadness filled her gaze for a second—or he was pretty sure that was the shadow that passed over her expression—and then she smiled and said, “Me, too.”

  Turning, she headed for the bathroom. She didn’t hurry. As though she knew she obliterated every woman who’d ever come before her.

  Just before the door shut behind her, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Eleven thirty, right?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They were going to the library meeting together.

  And everywhere else, too.

  They’d agreed to be exclusive.

  And while he’d always imagined feeling a bit caged if he ever got to that point in a relationship, all Colin felt was...freedom.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE LIBRARY COMMITTEE meeting did not take place at the Morrison home on Saturday. While disappointed that she wasn’t going to be able to see the home—a possible crime scene—disappointed that she wasn’t going to be able to observe the overall environment in which Ryder Morrison was growing up, Chantel was even more worried about Leslie’s absence from the wine tasting the night before.

  They’d been raising money for Sunshine Children’s League, one of Julie’s—and Leslie’s—personal causes.

  It was possible that the boy who’d suddenly come down with the flu—preventing his parents from attending the event—had had enough of a recovery by the next morning to be left without his mother’s care. Even more likely was the possibility that Leslie and James had family in the area to watch Ryder while his mother was away.

  Chantel didn’t think either option was the case.

  They met at the new library building again, in a smaller room that now housed the cases that had been designated for a rare book collection that would be there permanently. While Leslie’s face was unblemished and bearing no heavier than a normal dose of makeup, the woman had her hair styled differently. Instead of pulled into a twist at the back of her head—as it had been each of the other two times Chantel had seen her—her hair hung around her shoulders. Its thinness didn’t make the style very becoming on the otherwise beautiful woman.

  But it covered enough of her neck that, along with the high-necked sweater she was wearing, Chantel couldn’t tell if she was hiding bruises.

  She’d bet a year’s salary that she was. Leslie was friendly and as outgoing as always. But her hands were fiddling with the folders on the table in front of her, and twice she’d dropped the napkin she’d picked up at the side table when she’d helped herself to coffee.

  The gala was only three weeks away, and at the conclusion of member reports, Leslie filled them in on her week’s progress toward the big event. Everyone got a copy of the script. They were to get any suggestions or opinions to Chantel
by midweek.

  Julie, sitting next to Chantel, seemed to be watching her friend more closely. But that could just be Chantel’s imagination. She was extrasensitive to Julie at the moment.

  Because of the rape.

  Mostly.

  And because she was feeling more certain than ever that to help one of the women would help the other...

  Colin, who was far too gorgeous for Chantel’s good, sat, as before, on her other side, his hand on her leg.

  Reminding her that it would be elsewhere on her body. Again. Soon. As they’d agreed.

  She’d worn a sedate dark purple skirt and jacket that she’d picked up that morning, along with a few other things, on her way to have her nails done. She couldn’t see someone over and over without more changes of clothes.

  And he was taking advantage of the flesh her skirt exposed.

  His suit, gray today, didn’t afford her the same leniency. Even if she’d had the balls to reach for him under the table.

  Harris had them. Johnson didn’t dare.

  Julie reported that the guest list of accepted invitations had grown to beat their highest expectations. She glanced around the table as she spoke and smiled when her gaze met Chantel’s.

  If she’d had any worries that Colin’s sibling was going to have a problem with her brother’s preoccupation with the new woman in town, Julie was easily putting them to rest. She’d chattered from the backseat of Colin’s car all the way to the library. Mostly about the financial report she’d read that morning from the wine tasting the night before. And her hopes that the league would be able to grant her request for monies to fund a child-life specialist at the new Santa Raquel Children’s Hospital.

  She’d never said a word about Chantel and Colin’s time together—not that Chantel would have expected her to do so. She had far too much decorum for that.

  But if she’d had a problem with it, Chantel would expect to detect at least an edge about her.

  The meeting didn’t last long—half an hour at most.

  Chantel kept a close eye out, but she didn’t notice Patricia Reynolds paying any particular attention to either her or the Fairbankses. Mostly the woman seemed determined to get everyone’s opinion on every single item on the menu for the gala—leaving Chantel starving for the lunch she was going to consume as soon as she got out of Johnson’s clothes and back to her apartment.

  Starting with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And then as much of the quart of chocolate ice cream as she could manage. Enough to wash Colin’s fire out of her body so she could be 100 percent present when she donned her badge and hit the streets for her shift that evening.

  Julie turned to her just as Leslie adjourned the meeting. “I’ve made chicken salad this morning and cut up some fruit. Colin and I were hoping you’d join us for lunch.”

  “Please,” Colin added, standing with his hand on her shoulder. “I have to head to LA for a meeting this afternoon, but I’d like to have a meal with you first.”

  Her heart softened dangerously. Until her brain reminded her that Chantel being at home with Julie could possibly help the younger woman open up to her more easily. And more quickly.

  “I’d like that,” she said, and added, just to be safe, “Then I have to get to work, too.” She stood, picking up the used but immaculate lavender Coach purse she’d also purchased that morning. “With all the time I spent on the script this week, I’m going to be writing straight through the weekend.”

  She noticed the long glance Colin gave her but pretended not to.

  “Do you find that when you get into the book, it’s best just to stay there?” Julie asked, loading her papers into the folder and then the small leather case she’d brought in with her. “I do,” she continued before Chantel could answer. “Once it’s flowing I just need to let it flow.”

  Thanking fate for another save, for being such a faithful partner on this venture, Chantel agreed wholeheartedly, and quite verbosely, with Colin’s little sister.

  “Julie...could you wait just a minute?” Leslie called out as they were about to exit the room. She’d been in conversation with Emily Longfellow, the woman who was in charge of all of the physical arrangements at the library for the big event.

  Colin pulled Chantel out the door and into a little room across the hall while Julie went off to speak with her friend.

  Was Leslie going to ask how the wine-tasting event went the night before? Apologize for missing it? Would she tell Julie the real reason for her absence?

  Did Julie know if Leslie’s husband beat her?

  That he beat her. If Chantel was reading this all right.

  “Did I hear you right? You plan to work tonight?”

  “Yes. And tomorrow. And tomorrow night, too,” she added. She was on shift the next day, starting a new rotation. She had no choice. She had to minimize complication where she could. Being available at his whim was impossible.

  But she wanted the “exclusive” part.

  It ensured her an “in” at any function that might also include the Morrisons and the society that would allow her to roam freely around Leslie’s life without raising suspicion.

  And the “in” that would allow her to find out who among them had raped Julie Fairbanks and not paid for the crime. Which would, hopefully, lead her to the mole in the Santa Raquel Police Department who put payoff money above the well-being of young women.

  Leaning on his hand on the wall beside them, Colin asked, “Are you avoiding...”

  “No.” She couldn’t lose him. Everything fell apart if she lost him. The Morrisons. Julie. Johnson...

  Shaking her head at that last inane thought, she looked up at him. “I rarely work past midnight,” she heard herself telling him. “If you don’t mind the late hour, you’re welcome to stop by after that.”

  She knew exactly what she was offering. She wanted to believe she knew why. She’d made a mistake and let things go way too far. But she couldn’t back out now. Not without risking the entire assignment. She couldn’t have him thinking that she had regrets.

  Colin wasn’t the type of man who begged. Unless he was certain he was going to get what he was after. One hint from her that she wasn’t as interested as he was and he’d be out her door. Permanently...

  She couldn’t lose him.

  He put his hands in his pockets, drawing her attention downward, and she grinned. “I guess that means I’ll be seeing you?” she asked. Her body reacted to his in a way that shocked even Harris. She couldn’t wait for the moment she opened that hotel room door to him...

  “I’ll be there,” Colin said. “Order something chocolate from room service.”

  She was off at eleven and would bring a change of clothes with her to the station. Get out of her uniform in the backseat of her clunker, and then catch a cab to the resort. Unless there really did happen to be violence on her shift that evening.

  She’d worked dozens of these events and mostly just got bored and waited for her dinner break. But there was always a first time.

  In which case...she’d cross that bridge if she came to it. She’d call Colin with an excuse. And a promise to make it up to him.

  Leslie Morrison got away with it—the lying excuses part. Allegedly.

  She wasn’t going to borrow trouble.

  She had enough of it on her plate already.

  * * *

  COLIN PLANNED TO show Chantel around the mansion, being certain to include his private quarters—and skip his sister’s—while Julie got lunch on the table. She’d been a little curt in her refusal to let Chantel help her, and he wanted to give his sister some space.

  He also kind of liked the thought of having a picture of his very private space embedded in Chantel’s mind.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as they stood in what had onc
e been his father’s law library but was now Colin’s home office. “Did I do something to upset Julie?”

  The genuine worry in her tone spoke to him more than it should have. He had it bad for her.

  “No. She’d have canceled lunch if that was the case,” he assured quickly. If Chantel was going to spend time with them, she needed to understand. “Ever since... Julie isn’t good about handling personal tension. She can go head-to-head at a board table, but if it gets personal, she checks out. If she was upset with you, she’d more likely be bolted in her room right now, not getting lunch on the table.”

  A vision of the bolted lock Julie had insisted they have installed on her bedroom door—one that had a keyed lock that he could enter in case of emergency—sprang to mind. Giving him a second’s guilt as he half disclosed the private information by his word choice.

  Yet, he didn’t feel as disloyal to his sister as he might have, which kind of disturbed him. He felt safe speaking with Chantel—certain that he could trust her. And he’d seen men fall, lose everything, for trusting a woman who drove his dick.

  That wasn’t him. He was too careful.

  “So if it’s not me, what’s bothering her?”

  Her gaze told him she wasn’t going to let this go.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. But he had a good idea. The information just wasn’t his to give.

  “It must have been something Leslie said,” Chantel continued, barely looking around the room where he’d spent so many of the important moments in his life. It was in this room that he’d told his father that he wanted to be a lawyer. It was also where he had learned of his mother’s death.

  He’d been sitting at that desk, working on a case and waiting up for Julie, the night she had come in ravaged and broken after Smyth had drugged and raped her.

  “She was fine until she was in the boardroom alone with Leslie...” She sounded as though she was realizing the facts as she spoke. And she probably was. Julie hadn’t been animated on the drive home, but she hadn’t been obviously upset, either.

  He’d known something was up. But had figured since she was keeping up appearances pretty well with Chantel, that it hadn’t been a big deal.