Lacy’s heart fell, landing somewhere around her bladder, and she had to pee, too. “It would only take a minute to make some tea. Did you know how healthy tea is? I read . . . ” Oh jeepers, this man had pure evil stamped all over him and she was offering to make him tea. Please let him leave.
He started moving again toward the entryway, and she offered a thanks Heavenward.
“If you see or hear anything, you call me,” he said, his tone about as friendly as a pet rock.
“Oh, I will. I’ll call you first thing.” Right when Hell freezes your evil gray eyes shut. When the door closed behind him, Lacy’s knees almost buckled. She dropped Fabio and walked into the living room, sank onto the sofa, and pressed her palms against her closed eyes. When the phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Hi, Lacy. It’s Eric.” The loudspeaker played the message. “I noticed you were due to pick up your flea spray, and I thought maybe I’d drop it off. We could do dinner. I know this great Italian place. And to make myself clear, yes, I’m asking you out on a date. I know you’ve turned me down only a million times, but I’m told persistence pays off. Anyway, call me.”
Lacy ignored Eric and, practicing breathing exercises, she tried to get her heart to return to a normal rhythm. Visions of Zeke Duncan’s cold, hard eyes filled her mind, then her thoughts turned on a dime and mentally yanked her back into her bedroom, with Chase spreading her thighs and . . .
Oh, Cracker Jacks, she’d just had the best sexual experience of her entire life and it hadn’t included everything. Only one little problem existed. Chase seemed pretty sure they were just in the first inning of this game—and he was quite certain he was next up to bat.
What really scared her was she wasn’t altogether sure he was wrong. If sex with no sex could be that exceptional, just how good could it be if she actually let him get to the plate? Well, she had already seen him in the batting cage, and he’d had formidable power and accuracy. The thoughts brought flashbacks of pleasure, and her lower belly tightened.
Then another thought exploded in her head. That short fleeting moment when the idea of Chase Kelly leaving had taken her breath. As if she cared for him . . . as if . . .
No! She didn’t care for him. Couldn’t care for him.
• • •
Zeke dropped his head against the steering wheel and gritted his teeth. Headache. Damn, his head hurt and all that chattering . . . He started his car, but before he pulled out of the drive, he took out his little notepad and wrote down the address. The lady came across as a total bimbo, should have been blond, but the suspicion prickling in his gut hadn’t completely gone away. He’d come back later.
As he pulled away, he punched in the hospital number and asked for the ICU. “Yes, this is Officer Duncan. Just wanted a report on Stokes.”
“He’s the same,” the nurse said. “His vitals are good, but he hasn’t come to yet. Doctor came in earlier and assured Mrs. Stokes that this really isn’t unexpected.”
“Thanks.” Zeke tossed out the politeness, hoping his frustration didn’t color his voice. “Oh, one other thing. Is someone else there from the precinct?”
“Someone’s been here the whole time. Would you like me to give you the number to the line in the waiting room?”
“No,” Zeke said, and hit the button. It was time he found out what the crap those guys were doing.
• • •
Lacy heard her bedroom door swing open and slam shut. “That was stupid!” Chase’s angry voice boomed as he made his way down her hall. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”
Yup. Pretty stupid. If she’d insisted he leave this morning at breakfast, she wouldn’t be in this situation. She wouldn’t know how good he was with his tongue or his fingers. And her insides wouldn’t be turning to jelly as she thought about him going all the way with her.
He dropped down beside her. “Are you okay?” Concern tempered the anger in his green eyes.
“I’m fine.” She stood up before he could touch her. “I’ve got some work I have to do. Invoicing, bills and stuff. Help yourself to a video.” She opened her cabinet where all her videos were stored. Then she took off down the hall, pushed open her office door, shut it and locked it. If she’d had a hammer and nails she might have used them. Not to keep him out, but to keep her in.
Chase watched her disappear into her study. He knew she was running away. A part of him wanted to chase her down, the part that responded to the enticing sway of her hips. But the other part of him insisted he let her go. He had his own fight-or-flight case raging inside him.
The few minutes waiting in her bedroom had been Hell with the heater stuck on high. He’d wanted to storm out, beat Zeke to a pulp, and get answers. And he might have, if he hadn’t been afraid Lacy would end up hurt. Then the thought of how easily Zeke could hurt her had made Hell’s temperature rise.
Standing, he paced the length of the sofa, feeling like a trapped animal, feeling useless, impotent. His sex stirred, as if wanting to protest that last adjective. He had to do something, figure this out. There had to be a reason Zeke was doing this.
There also had to be a reason that the thought of Lacy being hurt had cut a river of pain into his soul. A reason those feelings reminded him of another time.
The phone rang. Chase continued to pace as the sound system played the voice.
“Hi, Lacy. It’s Eric again. I . . . Okay, I’m impatient. I was hoping you’d answer this time. That restaurant serves the best shrimp marinara that you’ve ever eaten. And their desserts are sinful. Please say you’ll come. Be sinful with me. We can even share.”
Chase clenched his jaw. There had to be a reason he wanted to send FedEx have-sex-with-me Hunky to Timbuktu and a reason the idea of Lacy being sinful with Eric made him so hot he felt certain his bare feet left singe marks on the hardwood floor. These edgy, too-damn-close-to-jealous emotions had to pass.
It’s just the anticipation, he told himself. Once he had her, the confusion would pass. But damn, if he wouldn’t sign over his checkbook right now for a box of condoms.
• • •
An hour later, Zeke walked from his cubicle and knocked on the captain’s door. “Yeah?”
Zeke shouldered-open the door and felt his blood pressure inch up a notch as he spotted Jason Dodd sitting near the man’s desk. Zeke nodded brusquely at both men, but Dodd didn’t acknowledge his greeting.
“Any news on Stokes?” Zeke asked.
“No.” The captain’s gaze flipped between Zeke and Dodd, reading, weighing.
Zeke clutched the doorknob tighter. “Nothing found at the lake, either?” He eyed Dodd. The man didn’t look away from the accusations Zeke visually flung at him.
“I thought that was where you were,” the captain said.
“I was combing the area. Thinking Kelly may have forced his way into someone’s home.”
“Chase Kelly wouldn’t do that,” Dodd said. “No more than he would have shot Stokes.”
Zeke zeroed in on Dodd. “Then who shot him?” He wanted to know just what Dodd had told the captain. Better to know than to guess.
Dodd leaned back in the padded office chair. It squeaked with the movement. “Guess we’ll have to wait until he wakes up to tell us.”
“Are you making accusations, Dodd? If so, say it to my face.”
Dodd stood so fast that his chair rolled across the room. “Okay. I’ll say it to your face. I’ll yell it into your freaking ear if it makes you happy!”
“Stop this shit!” The captain launched from behind his desk and caught Dodd’s arm. “Damn it, guys. I don’t have a clue how things are going to play out here, but until then I can’t have my men at each other’s throats.”
“Chase Kelly was on the take.” Zeke jabbed a finger at Dodd. “If this bastard says differently then maybe it’s because he’s afraid of what else we will uncover.”
“Now who’s making accusations?” Dodd spat.
“At least I’m doing it to your face.”
/>
“If you want to know what I think, why don’t you just ask me? I’d be more than happy to meet you outside and have a little talk.”
“I said stop it!” The captain moved between them. “Unless both of you want your asses suspended, you’ll stay out of each other’s way.”
Dodd shook off the captain’s grip and pushed through the door. Zeke watched him storm off, then he took the opportunity to move inside and ask his own questions. “What’s he saying?”
“He wasn’t saying anything. I called him in here. If Kelly was dirty, I’m finding it hard to believe that Dodd didn’t at least suspect something. And I know IA is going to be all over his ass, too. It’s my job to check this out.”
“And what did he say?”
“He denies it. He seems certain that Kelly isn’t the bad guy. And frankly it’s hard to . . . Oh hell, Kelly’s been flipping out lately, but honestly, I would have never—”
“You don’t believe me?” Zeke asked. “You’re going to take some suicidal maniac’s word over mine?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I’m just saying, oh hell, I don’t know what I believe. But the thing you said the other day about Dodd being in on this isn’t ringing true. He cares about Kelly, maybe to the point he can’t admit the man could have fallen off the edge. They partnered together for over seven years and it—”
“Which is why I’m guessing he’s dirty. A partner knows these things, damn it.”
The captain shook his head. “I don’t think so.” The captain’s brow rose. “You were partnered with Kelly. Why did it take him shooting one of our own for you to catch him?”
Zeke felt the accusation all the way to the ulcered lining of his stomach. “Don’t tell me you and Dodd are trying to push this on me.”
“I’m not saying anything. But I’ll get to the bottom of this, Zeke. I promise you. If I’ve got a dirty cop under me, I’ll find him out.”
• • •
“What are you doing?” Lacy asked when she stepped out of her office several hours later. She’d spent the time listening to the yin and yang of her conscience debate the wisdom of pulling Chase Kelly back into her bedroom and giving him a list of all the things she’d like to try: sex in the shower, sex on the floor, sex . . . Stop thinking like that!
Chase had several pieces of notebook paper strewn over her coffee table. He looked up and, when his eyes met hers, she saw raw sexual need reflected there. Cutting her gaze back to the papers, she took a second to catch her breath and considered heading right back into the study.
“I’m doing a time line. Hoping I can figure out the missing piece of this damn puzzle.”
“Oh.” She sat down on the sofa, keeping several feet between them, and scanned his notes. He had days listed on the tops of the papers, with hours going down the side and notes written beside them. She read on, seeing he’d listed everything from where he’d had breakfast to with whom he’d eaten lunch.
“You have a good memory.” Tilting her head, she saw his frustration in his expression. “I don’t think I could remember all that.”
“You could if you tried,” he said. “But it hasn’t helped and I still have too many holes.” He pointed to one of the sheets, which hardly had any writing on it.
“Maybe if I read it back to you,” she suggested. She picked up the papers.
He shrugged, and Lacy leaned back and folded her legs beneath her. “On Tuesday, February 16, you woke up around six A.M., stopped off for coffee at Bee’s diner. Went into the office around eight A.M.” She hesitated and met his gaze. He studied her intently. The look in his eyes made her want to scoot over—like, all the way into her bedroom. “You don’t have anything filled out for midmorning. Maybe nothing important happened. Maybe you sat at your desk and played solitaire.”
Chase shook his head. “I never play solitaire.”
She looked back at the paper, then gazed up at him. “You had lunch at a Mexican restaurant.” She cut her eyes to him. “You wrote, ‘cute waitress with a nice ass.’”
A smile pulled at his mouth. “Some things I can’t forget.”
She frowned. “Right.” She scanned down the page. “You don’t have anything filled out for the afternoon either. But that evening you . . .”
With lightning speed, he took the paper from her hands. “You know what? This isn’t going to help.”
But she’d already read it. “Cooked dinner and had sex with Jessie.” She read the words again as the paper left her fingers. She raised an eyebrow and tried to decipher the sudden green emotion doing cartwheels in her chest. How dare he . . . have sex-with-no-sex with her when he was involved with someone else? He was just like Peter, like Brian. Only, this time she wasn’t the person cheated on, but part of the cheating team. Oh jeepers, she felt like pond scum.
She raised her gaze. “At least you can tell her you didn’t take your pants off with me.”
He set the paper down on the coffee table. Then, closing his eyes, he pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Lacy . . .”
Feeling a hot emotion building in her chest, she jumped up and walked to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, wishing she could crawl into the ice maker and cool off.
“Eat the tuna today and pick up a gallon of milk,” the fridge said.
“Shut up,” she snapped.
She glared at the mayonnaise, then frowned at the mustard. In a few minutes, she heard Chase walk in behind her.
“It’s not what you think,” he said.
“What do I think?” she asked, inwardly seething, and praying he couldn’t see it.
“You think I’m involved.” He came closer and she shut the fridge and stepped away.
“And you’re not?” Skepticism rang so heavy in her voice, she mentally heard the words drop to the floor with a thud.
“No, I’m not.”
“You cooked dinner and had sex with her, but you’re not involved.” For just a second she wondered if that was what Peter had told his secretary: I’m married but I’m not really involved. And Brian: Yeah, I’m engaged to her, but it’s not like we’re involved or anything.
“Right,” he answered. “That’s all it was. Dinner and sex.”
“A one-time thing, right?” she asked, almost certain she’d seen Jessie’s name written on several other pages. Would he lie to her now? Of course he would. All men lied. Just like all men cheated on their significant others. But she and Chase hadn’t really cheated. Hadn’t really had sex. Not by the political definition of sex, or rather, former President Clinton’s definition. Maybe she wasn’t total pond scum.
Chase looked blank for a second as if searching for words. “No. It wasn’t a one-time thing. We . . . Look, we’ve met twice a week for the last three months. I cook dinner and we have sex. But it’s not as if we’re involved.”
She felt her mouth fall open. “You meet with her twice a week for three months and you don’t consider that being involved?”
His brow wrinkled. “No, I don’t.”
“Oh, really? Well, excuse me for having to ask, but this is one I haven’t read in Redbook or Cosmo. What in your male pea brain qualifies as being involved?”
She crossed her arms and waited for an answer. Her foot tapped the floor.
Tap.
She shouldn’t care how many women he had.
Tap.
She had no right to question him.
Tap.
She had no reason to be hurt.
Tap.
It sounded as if he’d told her the truth, even when the truth sucked. Even when it made him sound like a real bastard. But he hadn’t lied.
Tap.
Didn’t he win points for not lying?
Tap.
Wasn’t uninvolved sex what she’d wanted?
Tap.
It didn’t matter. The man was history. Just as soon as he answered, she was going to insist he take his “bat” and walk out of her life.
And miss the best part of t
he game? her devilish conscience whispered. Do you really want to do that?
Right now she would love to smack both her conscience and Chase Kelly. “So, do tell. How do you define involved!”
Tap.
Tap . . .
• • •
Chase watched Lacy’s foot movements. Up and down. He could see the anger glowing in her eyes, and he felt pretty much peeved himself. Though he couldn’t quite put a finger on why.
“It’s ‘involved’ when you are committed to each other.” He passed a hand over his face. “When you share pieces of your life with someone. When the person matters. When you care. And that doesn’t describe Jessie and me.”
And that’s when it hit him with all the power of an eighteen-wheeler: He was smack dab in the middle of being involved with Lacy Maguire. He’d known her only two days and yet here he stood, up to his ears in involvement. The thought sent emotional red flags flying all over: fear, denial, exhilaration.
He needed time to catch his breath—time to deal with the tire tracks that the big-rig realization had left on him—but Lacy looked about ready to send him packing. That fight-or-flight emotion he’d felt earlier returned and shook his already run-over state of mind.
He could stand his ground, fight to make her see that Jessie truly wasn’t important to him. Or he could leave while the leaving was good, get out before his heart got tangled up. Turning, he stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed his gun from beneath the sofa, and headed for the front door.
Chapter Seventeen
Divorced, Desperate and Delicious Page 18