For a private person like Liz, that was asking a lot, but she was really too worn down at the moment to argue. She’d spent a miserable night torn between dreams of losing Prisha and chasing after a man who wove through the shadows like a ghost. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” To Grace, she said, “I’ll be back around two to take you and Nick to the airport, okay?”
“We’ll be ready. Nikolai suggested we take a taxi, but once I made it clear I wasn’t driving, he was happy. He said he hadn’t gotten to spend enough time with you, so this will be nice.”
Liz started away but stopped. She couldn’t leave things totally in the air between her and David. “Mom has my number. I know you’ll be busy sorting out stuff with Zeke and at your place, but if you get a chance, we should probably talk.”
His too-black mustache wiggled slightly giving the hint of a smile. “Sure thing. And, uh, thanks for the tea last night.”
His tone was so intimate she almost blushed. She knew what he meant. She’d more or less drugged him. For his own good. She dashed off, tiptoeing around puddles left on the concrete by the automatic sprinklers. Today was going to be rough, and negotiating the safest path through obstacles seemed to be her fate.
FOUR HOURS LATER, David was grimy and disgusted. He’d let Zeke Martini talk him into sticking around—at least temporarily. Was that smart? Hell, no. But his plan to leave had been severely compromised, and the guy was right about one thing: running away without a plan in place was utter foolishness.
But so was hanging out with Liz and her family. He had no intention of doing that. Mimi, his landlady, had coughed up a World War II–era cot and some bedding that David set up in the potting shed, the one building left completely untouched by the fire and water. Yetta had donated an oversize cooler filled with ice, water, juices and snacks, which Zeke had delivered an hour earlier. And, an even bigger surprise, a couple of stores that he frequented in the neighborhood, had donated food, beer and money to help him get back on his feet.
The only thing he lacked at the moment was transportation and a shower. And a phone. He’d told Liz he’d keep her informed about his situation. He could flag down one of the undercover units staking out his place, but that was probably tacky, he decided.
He went to the cooler and took out a beer. He tossed back the bottle and chugged a long, refreshing drink—and almost fumbled the bottle when he felt something touch his ankles.
A rasping purr filled the small space. “Meow.”
“Well, what do you know,” he exclaimed. David hadn’t seen Scar at all. He’d halfway decided the cat was gone for good. “Glad to see you made it, buddy.”
He sat down on his makeshift bed and bent over to pet the animal. No evidence of singed fur, he was pleased to note. “I hate to tell you this, but your cat food got burnt up, bud. There’s a little bit of kibble left in that bowl on the workbench, but that’s it.”
“Meow.”
The cat sprang to the mattress and rubbed up against David’s side. He’d never known the animal to be so affectionate. Had the fire scared him? Maybe the poor guy was tired of being alone and had thought he’d lost his only friend in the world. The thought made David’s throat close up.
They sat there like that until the crunching sound of car tires on gravel made the cat hop to the ground and disappear under the bed. David stood up, his nerves humming. He didn’t expect Ray to drive up, guns blazing, but you never knew.
Not Ray. Liz. Next worst thing, he murmured under his breath. He couldn’t pretend that a part of him wasn’t overjoyed to see her, but the realist inside him wanted to shut the door and pretend to be gone.
She got out of the car and waved. Too late.
“Hey, I just left Zeke. He said you’d decided to stick around a few days. Good. I’m glad.”
He shrugged. “My truck isn’t going anywhere. Fast.”
They both looked at the burned-out shell.
“That’s why I’m here. Zeke said you’d probably appreciate a shower and a decent meal. So come on. Let’s go.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “Why not? I’m taking you to my house, not Mom’s. I have a high-tech alarm on the doors and windows. Zeke’s planted some kind of bug in my car. I know self-defense.” She dropped into an exaggerated pose that made him chuckle. “I’m not the chef my sister is, but I promise not to drug or poison you.”
He hesitated. The idea of crawling into his miserable little cot without a shower wasn’t too appealing. And they could probably stop at a store on the way back for some decent cat food for Scar.
“Oh, that reminds me,” she exclaimed. “I brought your cat a couple of cans of food from home. I hope he’s not too picky.”
She dashed to the car and returned with a selection of beef, chicken and fish-flavored meals.
“How’d you know he was back?”
She paused. “I didn’t. He is, though, right?”
David nodded.
“Good. Then, shall we feed him and leave? I have short ribs in the Crock-Pot, but I still need to make a salad.”
He took a deep breath. The smell of burned wood was etched into his nostrils and he nearly gagged. He needed a break—if only to breathe fresh air. And she was offering food to boot. His stomach made a sound very similar to Scar’s plaintive mewl. She wanted to feed him, and damned if he could say no.
Chapter Thirteen
Dinner was a simple affair. Beef, lots of it. Succulent and tender, seasoned with a soy barbecue sauce of Kate’s. Salad topped with Romantique’s house dressing and fresh bread she’d picked up when she’d stopped for the cat food. She’d lied about taking cans from her roommates’ stash. She hadn’t wanted David to think she’d gone to a lot of effort. After all, she hadn’t been sure he’d accept her invitation.
But he’d come.
He’d made use of her shower and changed into clothes provided by Kate—or, rather, Rob. The newlyweds had spent the first night of their honeymoon in their new home and were presently winging their way to Tahiti—a wedding gift from Rob’s father and his wife. Before leaving for the airport, Kate had called to tell Liz that Rob, who was similar in height and build to David, had left a bag of clothes on the porch.
Liz had been touched that the couple had taken the time and effort to help out a relative stranger. Not that she was surprised. Roms were by nature a generous lot, and it didn’t take much to make a person “family.” Just knowing your sister cared for a guy could mean he was one of them, apparently.
“More wine?” she asked.
They were dining at a wrought-iron café table in her backyard. Twilight had descended and she’d lit two fat candles on a nearby hand-me-down baker’s rack that she’d spray-painted brick-red. Her collection of plants was nothing compared to David’s, but the spider plant on the top shelf was lush, with tiny white flowers and oodles of babies.
He held out his glass. “This is good. What is it?”
She showed him the label. Chianti that she’d stocked up on when the liquor store near her mom’s had held a going-out-of-business sale.
“Everything is delicious. I haven’t had a meal like this since…well, last night,” he said with a grin.
Liz laughed. The food at the wedding had been phenomenal, she had to agree. “My sister is an amazing chef. I’m surprised you’ve never eaten at Romantique before.”
“I never met anyone I wanted to take to dinner,” he said, simply. “Until you.”
His wistful tone grabbed her by the imagination and wouldn’t let go. She’d been picturing their could-have-beens all day. They could have been lovers. They could have laughed and teased and played together. They could have gardened, replanted her yard and really driven up the value of her house to impress those darn appraisers.
She still hadn’t heard back from the bank about her loan. Her gut said it was hopeless. Even if she got the money to initiate the home study and start the paperwork necessary for a foreign
adoption, there was still the cost of getting Prisha to the United States, once the adoption was approved.
“Where are your roommates?” David asked, bringing her back to the present.
“Visiting Reezira’s family in Arizona. Her aunt sent both girls bus tickets. They were so excited. These past months they’ve been in a kind of legal limbo, not knowing if they’re coming or going. Canada doesn’t want them back. Romania doesn’t give a damn about them. And the U.S. immigration is dithering because of 9/11.”
He nodded. “I understand completely. I had to deal with a lot of conflicting information when I first contacted the Justice Department. With the advent of Homeland Security, the communication between government agencies has gotten more complicated. Doing business with any branch can be very frustrating.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Selling out my boss? No. Giving up my life? Hell, yes.”
“What would you be doing right now if you were Paul McAffee, instead of David Baines?”
His hand seemed to flinch when she used his real name, but his voice remained impassive when he said, “Working in my lab.”
“On a Sunday evening?”
He nodded. “I was the guy who gave workaholics a bad name.”
No wonder your wife divorced you, she almost said.
“My values changed for a while right after I got married. Having kids around was a real treat, and I made an effort to get home in time for dinner at least four days a week.”
Her look must have been obvious because he laughed and said, “I know. Pathetic, right? At the time, it felt like a huge concession. No wonder my wife got involved with the guy next door.”
She winced. “Nobody deserves that. I mean, if she wanted a change, she could have suggested counseling or something.”
He smiled and took another sip of wine. “She did. I was too busy. By then, I had a pretty good idea that the wonder drug my boss was pushing through clinical trials was a disaster waiting to happen.”
“You had to deal with your wife’s defection, a divorce and your life’s work disintegrating all at the same time? Wow. How’d you keep it together?”
He snickered softly. “Who said I did?”
Neither spoke for a minute or two, then David said, “I guess the drama in the lab had me so shook up it sort of lessened the blow of Kay’s leaving me. She’d only been gone about six months when it became obvious that what was happening at Norcross, the company I worked for, was going to end badly. At that point, I became completely preoccupied with getting out alive.”
Impulsively, she reached out and covered the hand resting on the table. “I was in a situation like that once. The mind is an amazingly adaptive organ. Your focus shifts and tightens when self-preservation is on the line.”
He turned his hand palm up and squeezed her fingers gently. “Can you talk about what happened?”
“You already know the gist of it. I was attacked by two men. They seemed to materialize out of the shadows. I walked the same path every day and had never been threatened. I honestly felt sure the red cross on my jacket made me invincible.” She laughed at her naiveté.
“I’ve never understood bullies—even though I worked for one. He was a corporate shark, dressed in designer suits and Italian shoes. He paid lip service to community and social issues and women’s rights, but he drove a Hummer, he hated minorities—even though he’s part Hispanic—and he only dated very young women with very large…bank accounts. Don’t ask me what they saw in him.”
“He sounds as if he was on a real power trip.”
David nodded. “If the drug had lived up to its hype, he stood to make billions, worldwide.”
“How much would you have made?”
The question seemed to surprise him. “A lot. Tens of millions, I suppose.”
His honest answer touched her deeply. The fact that he’d given up a fortune to do the right thing made him so dear to her, she could barely swallow. This was a man she could love. Maybe she already did. Even though she knew he was leaving. Heck, she wanted him to go. But she also needed him to stay. Tonight, at least.
She stood up and waited for him to stand, too. “Sleep here tonight. With me. No strings. No commitments. Just two people who have seen the dark side and need a little comfort.”
“No. It’s too dangerous.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “I promise to go easy on you. Come on. We’ll turn on the alarm and shut out the world for a few hours.”
DAVID WATCHED HER push the code into the electronic box in the hallway. Deep down he knew that no home alarm could protect them from a man like his former boss, but the patrol car he’d seen cruise past an hour earlier might do the trick. Either way, he was prepared to turn off his mind and listen to his heart. If Ray had his way, David would be dead soon. This could very well be his last chance to live, to love.
And he knew he did love Liz. He liked her, respected her and, in a perfect world, would have courted her and told her what he felt for her. But his world was far from perfect. So, he wouldn’t burden her with his feelings, but he would take what she was offering.
The moment she was done setting the alarm, he caught her hand and pulled her against him. She smelled like teriyaki and candle wax, fresh air and Liz. He buried his nose in her hair and nuzzled her ear.
She didn’t hesitate. She pressed against him, making him to step back. The wall stopped their momentum.
Blood pumped through his veins with a force that made his ears ring. Too long without. His needs were great. His body craved fast and furious, but David wanted this to be good for Liz, too. He tried to slow things down. “Which of these doors leads to your room?”
She looked at him and smiled. “You’re afraid I’m going to break, or be traumatized by this, aren’t you? Because of what happened to me.”
He nodded.
“Don’t worry. You’re not the first since the rape. I met a man in New Zealand. A friend. He helped me enjoy sex again.”
Her frankness—and purposefulness—was refreshing. There would be no game-playing with Liz. He took her hand. “Then lead on before I ravish you in the hallway.”
She laughed and took his hand. “I think we can do better than the hall. It’s a bit claustrophobic, and I’m not a fan of small, dark places.”
“Me, either.” For months after his funeral David had had nightmares about waking up in the empty box under his headstone.
She took him to the last door on the right. The decent-sized room seemed smaller because of the desk, bookshelf and filing cabinet in the corner. “My office-slash-bedroom. Terrible feng shui, I know, but—”
He didn’t have time to talk decorating. He needed her. Now. He pulled her against him and waltzed her backward to the bed. Her twitter told him she was game and ready to play.
“Let me set the mood.”
“You already have.”
“Candles…music…”
“Later.”
Maybe the urgency he felt came through in his tone because she stopped talking and started unbuttoning the shirt her new brother-in-law had given him. A nice shirt made of some silky material that popped free of the buttonholes as if they were coated in Teflon.
She pushed it over his shoulders and nuzzled the triangle of light gold hair on his chest. She murmured something that sounded like “I knew it.”
He didn’t know what she meant, but he honestly didn’t care. All he could think about was seeing her naked. Touching her. He worked his hands under her stretchy black top, but discovered a band of elastic around her middle. “What’s this?”
“Built-in bra,” she said. “Here. I’ll do it.”
She gathered the material by the hem and yanked upward. The top went flying and his first glimpse of her bare torso nearly robbed him of breath. Her breasts were perfect. Not too big. Not too small. The dark reddish brown nipples were large and engorged.
Like a teen catching his first peek at his high school sweetheart, he reached o
ut to touch. Her soft moan nearly did him in. He rubbed the nipples between his fingertips until she squirmed beneath him, groaning with pleasure.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m turned on. My nipples have always been one of my most sensitive erogenous zones. Want a quick tour of the rest?”
He filled his hands with her soft but firm flesh and nodded. Her teasing tone was also husky and sexy as hell.
She quickly unzipped her shorts and stepped out of them. Her underpants were simple white low-cut briefs. No lace, no frills. He wasn’t surprised. But hugging her flat belly and prominent hip bones, they were the sexiest things he’d ever seen.
She offered her arm and pointed to the inside crook of her elbow. “Here.”
He leaned over and kissed the tender flesh, licking and sucking until she gave an all-over shiver. “Oh, nice,” she said, eyelids half-closed.
“Where else?”
She moved his hand to her belly. “Here,” she said, rubbing the back of his hand against the inside curve of her pelvis.
He dropped to his knees and dipped his tongue into the hollow between the fabric and her skin. She shivered. “Oh.”
“Are there more?” he asked, looking up.
Her lips were ruddy from being crimped under her teeth. She licked them and nodded.
“Here,” she said, turning around and pointing to the spot at the base of her spine where her beautiful buttocks began to curve outward.
She looked over her shoulder, a scampish twinkle in her eyes. He rose up on his knees, wrapping his arms around her upper thighs. His bare chest rubbed against her lower back as he slowly sank down, his tongue trailing a path down her spine.
“Your mustache tickles,” she said. “In a good way. Who knew?”
She leaned over slightly and he took her breasts in his hands and squeezed. Her hips undulated as they had when she danced. Sensual and erotic.
He made her turn around, then he removed her panties. Her nest of dark curls invited his touch. He covered her with his hand and let his fingers explore as she writhed and moved against his hand.
Bringing Baby Home Page 14