by Brenda Novak
With a shiver, she tossed her magazine aside. No matter how many times she read that article on star hookups she was too nervous to comprehend it. She kept thinking of Sam out in the shed.
Forget it. She deserves it.
Getting to her feet, she meandered around the cabin, eventually winding up in the kitchen. She liked this room best, but she didn’t stay there because everything reminded her of Paddy, from his favorite seat at the table to the beef jerky in the glass jar on the counter. He’d been with his second wife longer than Tiffany and Colin had been married, but Sheryl refused to rough it. She said she saw no purpose in giving up the comforts of home and never came up here, probably didn’t even know exactly where it was.
This was every bit Paddy’s domain. But he hadn’t visited in over a year. As he got older, he seemed more and more content to simply hang out with Sheryl and let Colin use the cabin.
Maybe Paddy hadn’t been here in months, but Tiffany could still smell him. The damp wool of his hunting shirt, combined with cigar smoke, made for a unique scent that lingered forever.
“I hate losing you,” she muttered, wringing her hands.
Where was Colin? She needed him to reassure her that all was well. They’d been out of touch ever since very early this morning, when he’d forced some sleeping pills down Samantha and shoved the girl into his huge suitcase. He’d been about to load her into Tiffany’s trunk, but after what’d happened with Rover, Tiffany had insisted he put her in the backseat. At least if Sam woke up and started calling for help, she’d be where Tiffany could reach her.
But Sam never woke up. She didn’t make a peep the entire trip. Even after they’d arrived at the cabin and Tiffany jerked the heavy suitcase out of the car and rolled it over the bumpy ground to the shed, she didn’t come to.
With a sigh, Tiffany went out to check on her again. The hunting shed that had become her temporary home stank almost as badly as the outhouse. But Tiffany wasn’t about to allow Samantha inside the cabin, not after what she’d done last night. It was her fault Paddy was dead. If she hadn’t started screaming, Colin might’ve been able to convince Paddy that his concerns were unfounded. Colin had said so himself.
“Sam?” Tiffany pulled open the door and poked her head inside. She’d unzipped the suitcase so she could hammer the end of Sam’s collar into the ground with a stake as Colin had told her to, but Sam remained curled up inside the bag. She didn’t answer; she didn’t even open her eyes. Colin had doped her up good this time.
“You think you’re pretty smart barfing up that shake, don’t you?” she said to the girl’s inert form. “Well, I hope you like sleeping outside. It gets pretty darn cold up here. You were too out of it to notice anything last night, but you’ll get a taste of it tonight.” The mosquitoes wouldn’t be fun, either.
With a taunting smile, she let the door slam shut and finally forced herself to use the outhouse. That was when she heard the approach of Colin’s vehicle. Finishing quickly, she ran to greet him.
“There you are!” She threw herself into his arms as soon as he climbed out of the car. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” He kissed her temple as he released her and that small gesture made her inordinately happy—despite everything.
“What happened?” she asked. “Have you heard from Sheryl?”
“She called me while we were searching for Samantha.”
Tiffany could feel that moment of acute pleasure slipping away from her. “What’d she say?”
“She said my father never came home last night and asked if I’d seen him.”
“So she didn’t know he was coming over?”
“No.”
“That’s a relief.” Trying to judge his expression, she shaded her eyes from the dappled sunlight that filtered through the pine trees.
“It sure makes things easier.”
“What about the search for Sam? How’d that go?”
“Like clockwork.” He grinned. “No one found anything. I even ordered pizza and invited everyone back to the house for lunch. I thought that was a nice touch.”
She gasped. “What about the blood? Are you sure we got it all?”
“We got it all. I was very careful about that. And the more people who stomped through the house, the better. If the police ever do search our place for evidence, it’ll be that much harder to find.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I told you I’ve got it all under control.”
Tiffany kicked a pinecone to one side. “Is Sheryl very worried?”
The white lines around his mouth and eyes told her how exhausted he was. “She’s getting that way.”
This news made Tiffany’s spirits plummet. She liked Sheryl almost as much as she’d liked Paddy and didn’t want her to suffer. “How’d you leave it with her?”
“I told her I’d go out and look for him.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, even though they both knew there wasn’t any service up here.
“So you can’t be out of contact for too long.”
“No. It’ll seem strange if I am.”
Tiffany didn’t want to spend another night here alone. “What about Mother’s Day?”
“What about it?”
“We had plans.”
“Yeah, well, our plans have changed. I’d better go. I just came to make sure you were okay.”
Tiffany wanted to take that as further proof of his love, but then he added, “I couldn’t risk you letting Sam get away like Rover.”
He started to get back into his car, but she hurried over to catch him before he could close the door.
“Wait! I should go back with you. I can’t be gone if Paddy’s missing. That’s a family crisis. It’ll seem weird if we’re not together, and doing whatever we can.”
His sudden scowl told her he was about to refuse her, but then he seemed to reconsider. “You’ve got a point.” He glanced toward the shed. “I guess there’s no reason you have to stay up here.”
“No. Sam’s got her collar on. She’s not going anywhere.” Tiffany preferred to be able to mourn Paddy with Sheryl, to offer as much comfort as possible. It was the least she could do.
“Then we’ll leave her some food and a blanket in case it gets really cold and come back when we can.”
“Okay.” She no longer cared about punishing Sam; she just wanted to go home with Colin. “I’ll get her ready,” she said and started back, but Colin caught her elbow.
“Wait. Are you sure you got that stake in the ground nice and tight?”
“Positive.”
“I’d better check myself. Get in the car.” He got a big quilt, some granola bars and a jug of water from the cabin, then stalked off to the shed.
When he came back, he gave her an affirmative nod. “A man twice my size couldn’t pull that stake out of the ground, but I drove another one in, just to be sure. Get in.”
Tiffany silently wondered if they’d find Sam dead when they returned, but she refused to let that stop her from leaving. Sam had to die sometime. She’d known that from the beginning.
* * *
The way Kino, who’d been sleeping at Jonathan’s feet, came to attention alerted Jonathan when Zoe entered the kitchen.
“Do you really think your psychic friend will be able to help us?” she asked.
Wondering if he’d made a mistake by telling her, he glanced up from his computer, where he’d been cross-referencing the electronic files a second property manager had sent him that morning against the list he’d compiled of anyone who’d ever had contact with Sam.
“We’ll see. I sent her Sam’s sweater, along with the teddy bear she won at Disneyland a few years ago. I hate to give you false hope, especially when today’s search proved such a disappointment, but Jasmine’s done some amazing things in the past.”
“She’s that good?”
Realizing he had the opportunity to make a new friend, Kino lumbered over to her. Obliging him with a thorough scratch behind
the ears and a warm smile, Zoe perched on the arm of a nearby kitchen chair. She was wearing his sweatpants, her own T-shirt and no shoes. He’d brought her home from the hospital only an hour ago and had carried in her luggage, but most of her stuff was still in her car, in those black bags. Understandably, when she’d left Lucassi’s she hadn’t taken time to pack with any kind of organization, which was why she’d needed to borrow his sweats. She’d gotten out of the shower to discover she had a shirt in her suitcase but no casual bottoms.
“She’s that good,” he said. “But her particular gifts don’t solve every case. That’s the problem.”
She pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she didn’t need it. She had beautiful skin, eyes he could drown in.
Having her so close, smelling like heaven, reminded him of last night and the sight of her without most of her clothes. The resulting charge of testosterone shot his concentration all to hell. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.
“Better.” She met his gaze with a directness that surprised him, that let him know she wouldn’t refuse a sexual advance. Since he’d already revealed his interest, she was probably expecting one. But he also knew he’d be foolish to get involved with her in that way. Zoe was a survivor for a reason. She’d barely blinked at her breakup with Lucassi. She wouldn’t invest in a relationship emotionally, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be on the losing end of another affair.
“I’m glad.”
She angled her head toward the computer. “Any luck with the rental records?”
“Not yet. But I still have a lot of names to go through, and this is just one of two companies. I’ve been in touch with others who manage properties in the area.”
“But these two are the ones that manage the cabins closest to where Toby was found. Didn’t you say that earlier?”
“That’s right. He was so badly injured he couldn’t have traveled very far, so these are the best places to start.”
She moved behind him, put her hands on his shoulders and began to knead away the tension. “I think it’s time you got some rest,” she said.
He closed his eyes as her fingers worked to soothe his sore muscles. “Do I look that beat?”
“Like the walking dead.”
“That’s not too flattering,” he said with a laugh.
“You look sexy. But then, you always look sexy.”
Unless he’d misinterpreted the hunger behind that statement, it was an invitation, not just a compliment. He twisted around to see her expression. “You don’t have to offer me an incentive to stay focused on the case, Zoe. I’m going to stick it out.”
Her hands stilled. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. This isn’t about trading favors.”
He guided her around in front of him. “Then what is it about?”
She blushed and glanced away, and he got the impression that she wasn’t often so direct. “An escape, I guess. A few moments of forgetfulness.”
With him. He could easily give her that. She was worried about Sam, in need of a reprieve, if only a short one. But where would it lead? Despite what he’d told Sheridan, he was ready to settle down, get married. Sex simply for the sake of getting off wasn’t enough for him anymore. He wanted a family, with the right woman. And he was beginning to realize that finding the right woman was going to take some restraint.
“You remind me of a girlfriend I once had,” he said.
“Oh really?” She hesitated as if she could tell that wasn’t a good thing, but asked anyway. “What was she like?”
He pictured Maria. “Beautiful. Great to be with.” He lowered his voice. “And in love with someone else.”
Bending close, she brushed her lips across his. “I’m not in love with anyone else.”
He caught her face in his hands and let his gaze fall to her mouth. He wanted much more than the quick taste she’d just given him.
For the briefest of moments, he allowed himself to imagine her on the mattress beneath him. But he knew, no matter how tenderly he made love to her, that he had very little chance of ever reaching her or that added dimension of meaning he craved. “No, you’re not in love,” he said. “Not with Anton. Not with anyone. And my guess is you never will be.”
She jerked away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’ve had enough casual encounters, Zoe. I’m nearly thirty, ready to grow up. I’m looking for more.”
She bit her lip as she stared at him. “You don’t think I’d be willing to give you more?”
“I don’t think you can,” he said, and then he went to bed.
Alone.
* * *
It didn’t take long to regret his decision. But Jonathan was stubborn enough to toss and turn for three hours before he was willing to acknowledge that despite all his good intentions, it all came down to one thing: capitulation. He wanted Zoe too badly for it to end any other way. Which meant he hadn’t grown up nearly as much as he’d thought.
You’re making another mistake, he told himself, but that didn’t change anything.
As exhausted by the battle inside him as he was by his hours the past week, he got up and crossed the hall. Kino, who was sleeping in his room, didn’t bother to follow him.
Zoe hadn’t shut her door all the way.
Jonathan pushed it open with one finger. The hinges whined as it moved, and she rose up on one elbow. Standing there in the doorway, he could see her hair falling over her shoulders, which were bare except for the straps of some nightgown. He hadn’t put blinds on this window because it faced away from the neighbors, and the room was mostly for storage, anyway.
“Jon?”
Knowing she couldn’t see him as well as he could see her, he spoke. “Yeah, it’s just me.”
Caution entered her voice. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” But obviously there was.
“What do you want?”
He thought about repeating the line she’d used earlier. An escape…a few moments of forgetfulness. But for him it was much simpler than that. What he wanted could be summed up in one word. “You.”
She pressed her fingers to her eyes, and he realized she’d been crying. He felt guilty about that, wished he could go back to their encounter in the living room—and say less. Do more.
“No,” she murmured. “I was stupid to think it would make a difference. We’re both better off keeping it impersonal.”
Impersonal? There was nothing impersonal about what they’d been through the past week. But she pulled up the covers and turned toward the wall.
Jonathan waited, hoping she’d change her mind. Just the memory of her lips brushing his filled him with need. But when she didn’t move or speak again, he went back to his own room.
* * *
Zoe listened to the creak of Jonathan’s footsteps. Thank God, he’s leaving. As desperate and alone as she felt, she’d just left one relationship; she shouldn’t jump into another. Especially with a man who affected her as deeply as Jonathan. Maybe she’d decided Anton had the qualities she needed in a partner. But rational thought seemed to play a very small role in her attraction to Jonathan. It was all instinctive—a gut-level desire to make love with him despite the consequences.
Submitting to that kind of animal attraction had gotten her in trouble before and always made it more difficult to walk away afterward. She didn’t know who she was anymore or where she was going. She only knew she had to find Sam, and that meant remaining strong and focused.
In other words, she had to use her head.
But she was losing hope, grasping at anything good that was left in the world. And the last good thing seemed to be Jonathan.
She stared into the darkness long after the house fell silent, thinking about Toby. Would he ever wake up? She’d been praying, day after day, that he’d regain consciousness. But his condition hadn’t changed.
The line between life and death was so thin….
&nbs
p; Maybe the biggest mistake she could make wasn’t getting involved with the wrong man. Maybe it was not being with him while she could.
CHAPTER 27
When Zoe entered his room, Jonathan didn’t speak; he simply turned back the blankets.
He’d had a T-shirt on before but must’ve taken it off as he returned to bed, because it was lying on the floor. She could see the broad outline of his muscular shoulders, his bare chest—and felt her body yearn.
Thoughts of Sam entered her head, but she quickly blocked them out. No more pain. Not right now.
She’d pulled off the sweats he’d lent her before bed, they were too hot to sleep in. Now she was wearing a short spaghetti-strap nightie and a pair of panties. But the intensity with which he watched her move toward him made her feel completely naked.
Once she reached his bedside, she hesitated, suddenly a little shy, a little nervous. But he didn’t give her time to reconsider. He came to his knees on the bed and slipped both hands under her nightgown to circle her waist, turning her so he could make the most of the moonlight filtering through the gaps in his window blinds.
Kino’s tail thumped against the floor as if he approved, but Zoe didn’t care about the dog’s presence. She cared only about touching Jonathan, about being touched by him.
“Wait.” She stopped him. “What about birth control?”
“I’ve got a condom,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything.”
Slipping her arms around him, she let him kiss her and felt an involuntary shiver as his tongue slid against her own.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “Everything will be okay.”
She clenched her hand in his thick hair as he took the kiss deeper, and desire spread through her veins, heightening every sensation until the slightest touch made her tremble. “I like the way you kiss,” she whispered.
His hands pushed up her nightie until he’d taken it off entirely. “What a sight,” he said, his voice low and reverent. Then he leaned forward just enough to graze the tips of her breasts with his bare chest.