No One But You

by Maureen Smith

  Forcing herself to break eye contact with him, she passed a trembling hand over her hair and dragged in a deep lungful of air.

  “This is crazy,” she muttered under her breath, glaring out the window. “We’re supposed to be concentrating on the case, not our libidos.”

  “I want to find Claire and nail the son of a bitch who took her just as much as you do,” Damien said in a low voice. “But I’m human, and I’d be lying to you if I said I haven’t thought about making love to you at least once since we’ve been sitting out here. I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t been trying to ignore the teasing scent of your perfume, the smell of your hair, how incredible your legs look in those jeans.”

  Althea swallowed, her nipples hardening beneath her sweater. “Damien—”

  “And just so you know, that jealousy thing goes both ways. The only thing that kept me from killing Toomer this morning was the knowledge that the place was crawling with cops and innocent bystanders.”

  Althea turned from the window to stare at him, her eyes wide with shock. “You . . . you were jealous of Malik?”

  “Burning up with it,” Damien said grimly, echoing her earlier words. “It was so bad I couldn’t even see straight.”

  Althea shook her head at him, bemused. “No wonder you were so quiet on the way back to the office. I just thought you had a lot on your mind.”

  “I did. I was plotting what I was going to do to Toomer the next time I ran into him.”

  Althea felt the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  He chuckled ruefully. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  She hesitated, biting her bottom lip. “Okay. Here’s something you don’t know. There’s nothing going on between me and Malik. He asked me out to dinner. I turned him down. End of story.”

  Damien gave her a long, probing look. “You’re not thinking about taking him back?”

  She held his gaze. “No.”

  “That’s good,” he said softly. “That’s very good.”

  Althea waited. When he said nothing more, she arched a brow. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  She hesitated, but her curiosity got the best of her. “Are you thinking about reconciling with Angelique?”

  His eyes glinted with mischief. “I thought you said you don’t care?”

  “Maybe I lied.”

  One dubious brow sketched upward. “Maybe?”

  “All right. I lied. I care. There. Are you happy?”

  His gaze roamed across her face. “Why do you care?”

  She huffed out an impatient breath. “I don’t know. I just do. Are you getting back with her or not?”

  He held her stare a moment longer, then shook his head. “No. We’re not getting back together. And what you saw this morning wasn’t what it looked like. Far from it.”

  A wave of relief swept through Althea, and she called herself a damn fool. “But she wants to, doesn’t she?”

  Damien made a face. “Angelique wants a lot of things she can’t have.”

  Althea knew she should just drop the subject, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking gently, “What happened between the two of you? Why did you split up?”

  His mouth hardened. His eyes went flat and cold. “It’s a long story,” he muttered, passing her binoculars back, signaling to her that the conversation was over.

  But Althea wasn’t to be put off so easily. “You started this,” she reminded him, turning partially in the seat to face him.

  “And now I’m finishing it,” he growled.

  She just looked at him, undaunted.

  He turned away and peered through his binoculars for a moment. Even in the shadowy darkness, Althea could see a telltale muscle pulsing in his jaw.

  After a long, tense moment, he lowered the binoculars and heaved a resigned sigh. “We met during our junior year in college. After we’d been dating for a while, Angelique got pregnant. It wasn’t what either of us wanted, but we’d both been raised to value human life, so getting an abortion was out of the question. After India was born, Angelique dropped out of school and moved in with her parents. But I didn’t want her to shoulder the burden of trying to raise our child alone, so I dropped out and got a full-time job to take care of her and the baby. We had our own place for a while, but Angelique missed the creature comforts of home.”

  “In other words,” Althea said wryly, “she missed being spoiled by her parents.”

  Damien grimaced. “Basically. I couldn’t compete with what they could give her. After she moved back home, I pretty much did the same thing. I moved in with my mom to save money so I could go back to college. India stayed with me most of the time, because quite frankly, motherhood wasn’t high on Angelique’s list of priorities. My mom had retired from teaching, so she was able to keep India for me while I went to work and school. I don’t know what I would have done without her. She was a godsend—she still is. She keeps India every day after school until Angelique gets off from work. She helps her with her homework, does school projects with her, and makes sure India eats a balanced dinner before Angelique picks her up. My mom adores India, and the feeling is mutual.

  “Still, I always wanted to give my daughter a stable home life, a family with a mother and father in the picture. After I graduated from college and joined the Bureau, Angelique decided we should get married. I had my reservations, but Angelique swore to me she’d sowed her wild oats and was ready to settle down. I thought I was doing what was best for India, and hell, I wanted what my brothers had, what Garrison and Imani had.” A shadow of cynicism curved Damien’s mouth. “I should have known better. Angelique and I didn’t have that magic, that powerful connection my brothers have with their wives. We never did. We had great sex, and toward the end of our marriage, even that went by the wayside.”

  “How long were you married?” Althea asked quietly.

  “Two years. Two of the longest damn years of my life. In the beginning Angelique tried her best to be a good little wife, and I tried my best to pretend we could be a real family, but we both knew we were deceiving ourselves. After awhile she gave up all pretenses and started hanging out every night with her friends. We were constantly arguing, not sleeping together.” He shook his head, his lips twisting bitterly at the memory. “The final straw for me was when I found a man’s number in her purse one day when I was looking for India’s health insurance card. I’d always suspected Angelique was cheating on me, but I’d never found any proof. When I confronted her about the phone number, she started crying and insisting that nothing had happened, he was just some pushy guy she’d met at the club. I actually believed her, but I realized right then and there that I didn’t want to live like that. I didn’t want to become some jealous, insecure husband who was always snooping in his wife’s purse just to make sure she wasn’t having an affair. I couldn’t live like that, and I didn’t want our daughter subjected to a marriage like that. So I told Angelique I wanted a divorce, and the rest is history.”

  “I’m sorry,” Althea murmured.

  He shook his head. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I didn’t share those things with you because I wanted your pity or concern. I wasn’t a victim. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married Angelique. And she wasn’t entirely to blame for what happened. There are always two sides to every story, and I’m sure if you talked to Angelique, she could tell you how I failed her as a husband.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’d believe her,” Althea muttered.

  Damien chuckled softly. “That’s because you’re not being objective.”

  “No, probably not.” She hesitated. “It must have been very difficult for you to lose custody of India.”

  He nodded, pain flitting across his face. “It was one of the worst days of my life,” he admitted quietly. “But in a way I was prepared for that outcome. I’d done my research, read the statistics, and I knew that this particular family court judge had a track record of ruling in t
he mother’s favor unless there was clear-cut evidence of abuse or neglect, and even then it had to be a long history.”

  Althea nodded. “I’ve heard that happens a lot, unfortunately. But that was, what, six years ago? Have you ever thought about appealing the judge’s decision?”

  “Just about every day,” Damien said, looking grim. “But after that first custody battle, I swore I’d never put India through anything like that again. It not only brought out the worst in me and Angelique, but it pitted our families against one another in the worst possible way. So, yeah, I’d like nothing more than to have full custody of India, but not if it means subjecting her to another long, bitter custody dispute.”

  “I understand,” Althea said with quiet sympathy.

  Damien looked at her. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Somehow I think you do.”

  They stared at each other. Not for the first time, Althea felt an inner stirring, felt something shifting and stretching inside her. She’d only known this man for six days, yet she’d never felt more intrinsically connected to another human being.

  And she could tell, by the way Damien was staring at her, that he felt it, too.

  “Althea—”

  She would never know what he was about to say, for at that moment, the soft glow of headlights cutting through the darkness snared their attention.

  They looked across the riverbank in time to see a dark car pull into the driveway of Patrick Farris’s house.

  The headlights went out.

  Althea and Damien quickly raised their binoculars, but all they could make out was the shadowy silhouette of a man’s head and broad shoulders. The figure sat behind the wheel, silent and unmoving.

  And then, suddenly, the car lurched into reverse, shooting out of the driveway.

  “Shit,” Damien growled, tossing aside his binoculars.

  Althea’s pulse pounded as he cranked the ignition, backed up sharply, and gunned the accelerator, plunging headlong into the night.

  And for the first time, she uttered not a word of complaint about his aggressive driving skills.

  Chapter 26

  But it didn’t matter.

  By the time they reached the other side of the bank in hot pursuit of the mystery driver, they were too late. The other car was nowhere in sight.

  The narrow two-lane road was empty and dark, a lonely stretch of asphalt flanked on either side by the silent river. Damien continued down the road for awhile, turning down quiet side streets lined with Cape Cods and quaint saltbox houses shaded by big, leafy trees. As they drove past, they peered inside parked cars and scanned the tidy lawns for signs of movement before giving up and heading back to Patrick Farris’s neighborhood.

  Killing their headlights, they crept along the winding, deserted road that ran parallel to the river, driving past the other waterfront homes shrouded in darkness and mist.

  There was no sign of Corbin Farris.

  Cursing a blue streak, Damien pounded his fist against the steering wheel in frustration.

  “He must have seen us,” Althea said, equally frustrated. “But how? We had the perfect hiding place behind those trees.”

  “Obviously not,” Damien muttered. “Besides, we were too far away.”

  “We couldn’t get any closer to the house, or he definitely would have made us.”

  Damien said nothing. He knew she was right.

  The rain had finally begun to fall, a cold, steady drizzle that would, at any moment, become a deluge. Damien returned to Patrick Farris’s house and parked at the end of the driveway. He and Althea grabbed flashlights and climbed out of the car.

  Heedless of the rain, they started purposefully across the lawn and made their way up to the small white clapboard. Weapons at the ready, they separated and circled the house, shining their flashlights through windows, listening for anything out of place. Althea tried the back door, knowing she wouldn’t be lucky enough to find it unlocked, knowing they couldn’t enter without a search warrant anyway.

  They walked the length of the backyard, which sloped down to meet the river. The rain had worsened, coming down in frigid, driving sheets that plastered her hair to her scalp and soaked her trench coat.

  “Let’s go!” Damien called, grabbing her hand. Together they ran back to the car and climbed inside.

  Shivering uncontrollably, Althea smoothed her wet hair off her face and grumbled, “This just hasn’t been our day, has it?”

  “Tell me about it,” Damien muttered, turning up the heat and chafing his hands together. Rainwater clung to his thick black lashes and dripped off his nose.

  Althea reached inside the glove compartment and grabbed a handful of clean napkins from Wendy’s, and she and Damien mopped at their faces. Their clothing was a lost cause.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Well, we could stay out here to wait for Farris to make another appearance, but I think we both know there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening.”

  Althea snorted. “No kidding. Now that he knows we’re onto him, he won’t be coming back here anytime soon. At least not anytime tonight.”

  Damien nodded. “As soon as it’s daylight, I’d like to drive around checking any vacant buildings and warehouses, maybe even some old lighthouses. We should stop somewhere and get a map and ask one of the locals to point us in the right direction, since they’re more familiar with the area than we are.”

  Althea nodded, chilled to the bone. The idea of sitting around for hours in soaking wet clothes held no appeal whatsoever.

  Damien must have shared the sentiment. “In the meantime,” he said, starting the car and flipping on the windshield wipers, “I say we find the nearest motel, get out of these wet clothes, and maybe grab a few hours of shut-eye. What do you think?”

  Althea groaned. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” she declared.

  They headed back to the main road, which took them back into town. They stopped at the first place they came to, a quaint bed and breakfast situated on the tree-lined banks of a scenic waterway identified as Back Creek. The friendly innkeeper took one look at their sodden clothes and informed them that they were in luck. There was one more room available for the night.

  Relieved, Althea and Damien grinned at each other. It was the first good news they had received all day.

  They were shown to a small, cozy room with a charming French country décor, a comfy-looking bed and sofa, and a gas fireplace, which the innkeeper graciously stoked for them. Not bothering to correct his assumption that they were a couple, Althea and Damien patiently listened as the man gushed over a list of the inn’s amenities, which included breathtaking waterfront views, picturesque botanical gardens, private baths for every room, and a hearty country breakfast to be served promptly at seven A.M. tomorrow. He encouraged them to take a leisurely walk down to the nearby shops and boutiques after breakfast, and recommended a lovely little restaurant where they could watch the sun set over the bay and enjoy a romantic stroll along the pier.

  Before leaving the room, he presented them with a complimentary bottle of champagne and a gift basket filled with a colorful assortment of cheese, crackers, sausages, fresh fruit, and canned preserves.

  “I hope you will enjoy your stay with us,” he told them with a conspiratorial smile as he gracefully bowed out of the room.

  When the door closed behind him, Althea and Damien stood across the length of the room from each other for a brief, awkward moment.

  “Well,” said Althea. “He certainly knows the meaning of the word hospitality.”

  “You think?”

  They grinned at each other, and the awkward moment passed.

  “I call the bed,” Althea announced.

  Damien inclined his head, mouth twitching. “Of course.”

  She started for the bathroom. “I think I’ll take a hot shower, try to put some feeling back into my extremities.”

  “Save me some hot water,” Damien called after her.


  Thirty minutes later, they were both freshly showered and dressed in the change of clothes they’d had the foresight to pack in preparation for the stakeout. They popped the champagne, ripped open the gift basket, and feasted on the contents while they pored over the map the innkeeper had provided. While Althea was in the shower, Damien had gone downstairs and asked their host about vacant commercial properties in the area.

  “He came up with several off the top of his head,” Damien explained to Althea, “but only a few sounded remote enough for hiding someone.”

  “Did he ask why you were interested?”

  Damien nodded. “I told him we were thinking about relocating to the area, maybe opening a business.”

  Althea nodded approvingly. “Good thinking.”

  Wicked humor glinted in Damien’s dark eyes as he drawled, “See? My mind isn’t always in the gutter.”

  She laughed. “I never said it was!”

  He smiled, his gaze roaming across her damp hair, which she’d shampooed, gelled, and slicked back off her face to let it air dry. His eyes hungrily traced her features, lingering on her mouth so long a flutter of heat ignited in her belly.

  “I think I spoke too soon,” he said huskily.

  Althea stared at him, unable to look away, unable to breathe.

  The next thing she knew, he had pulled her from her chair at the table and onto his lap. As she straddled his muscled thighs, the thick, rigid length of his erection pressed against her crotch. It was unbearably arousing, and she let out a ragged moan as his warm lips covered hers. He kissed her, a long, deep, provocative kiss that drugged her senses and left her aching for more.

  Despite what common sense told her, despite her resolve to resist temptation and maintain professional boundaries between them, she wanted this, wanted him with a ferocity she could no longer deny.

  He reached for the hem of her shirt. His hands were so big, so dark and masculine, that watching them raise her shirt turned her on. He swept it over her head, then tossed it aside. She hadn’t bothered with a bra after her shower, and as she watched Damien devouring her with his gaze, her breasts swelled with arousal, her nipples puckering under his masculine appraisal. His shadowed face looked hard, the set of his jaw accentuated in the soft lamplight. His nostrils flared, and his chest rose and fell rapidly.