by Rita Herron
ADAM WAS CERTAIN now that Sarah had heard his sister being abducted. Only he had no idea who had taken Denise or why or where they had taken her.
They had combed the hospital corridors, yet he hadn’t found anyone who corroborated her story, and Sarah hadn’t matched any of the voices of the people they’d met with the man she’d heard. After a strained and silent dinner at a local Italian café, he’d gotten Donny Gates’s home address from Clay, and they’d driven to the research assistant’s rental home on Skidaway Island, but Gates hadn’t been home. Sarah looked exhausted.
She slipped into her apartment, her face paling at the sight of the dusty room—he’d forgotten how jarring it was for a victim to face the crime scene, how violated she must feel now to see her personal domain touched by violence.
“A consultant is adding extra security to your place,” Adam told her. “They’ll be here tomorrow
She thumbed through the stack of mail on the sofa table and nodded absently, her small shoulders slumped with fatigue. He placed his hands on her arms, sucking in a sharp breath at the heat that shot through him. She tensed, then looked up at him. Her beautiful blue eyes shimmered with an awareness that mirrored his own attraction, yet the bruise on her forehead and neck jolted him back to reality.
“Go rest for a while. I’ll clean up this mess.”
She started to shake her head in refusal, that streak of independence flaring, but he caught her chin with his hand. “Yes, Sarah. You have a slight concussion and I’ve dragged you nonstop over the island today. You need to rest.”
Helpless to restrain himself, he traced a line down her delicate jawbone. “I’m staying here tonight, so you’ll be safe.”
For a brief second, alarm flitted in her eyes.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. That is, unless you’d rather go back to your godfather’s tonight.”
She shook her head no as he’d expected. Before they’d left Santenelli, her godfather had urged her to return to his house, but she’d firmly expressed her need to go home. Her independence reminded him of Denise and the way he used to butt heads with her. Santenelli’s nostrils had flared with anger at Sarah’s refusal to stay, and Adam realized what it must have cost her to fight for herself against his powerful presence.
Of course, he admitted begrudgingly, he also understood her godfather’s need to protect her. A man had to stay in control, take care of the people he loved, especially the women. His father had taught him that. Hell, his mother had liked being taken care of. She’d lost her sight a year before she’d died and had become even more dependent than ever. But his father hadn’t minded taking care of her.
With a small sigh, Sarah covered his hand with her own, her soft skin brushing his, charging his nerve endings with electricity. For a brief second, her gaze dropped to his mouth and he saw need and desire written plainly on her face. Heat spread through him, blazing in its intensity.
But he could not, would not follow through, not when she looked so physically weak and vulnerable.
Her fingers laced his, and she squeezed his hand so tenderly that he heard the unspoken message. They didn’t need words to communicate. She shared his need for comfort, for a soft touch, yet she also understood his reservations. And in that moment he realized she wasn’t the needy, vulnerable, fragile woman he’d thought, or maybe the one he’d wanted her to be.
Sarah was strong and gutsy. So strong she’d overcome a traumatic past and a hearing impairment to live a normal, productive life. Even more admirable, she’d stepped forward to help a virtual stranger while putting her own life in danger.
The realization made him want her more.
But he couldn’t act on that want.
Getting involved would make him lose focus, and that might put her in even more danger. Just like it had with Pamela. He’d let his defenses slip for a minute and she had ended up dead.
“Go re,” he said in a gruff voice.
She nodded and left him with a small smile on her lips and a look of want so powerful he was tempted to follow her.
But he didn’t.
He silently vowed to protect her, even if it meant walking away from her.
SARAH TRIED TO REST and forget about the electrifying tension between her and Adam, but when she stretched out on her bed, memories of the horrifying attack assaulted her. Would she ever feel safe in here again?
Adam Black was in the other room, she reminded herself. For now, at least she could relax. And she would learn to be on her own again once this nightmare ended.
But how was she supposed to sleep with Adam lying in the other room on her sofa?
Unbidden images sprang to her mind, filling her with another kind of tension. Images of Adam next to her, folding her in his arms, slowly unbuttoning her blouse, slipping her skirt down her legs, then sliding her panties off and twining his body with hers.
She had never slept with a man before.
Had never wanted or lusted after a man the way she lusted after Adam. He made her feel strong and safe and utterly feminine. Yet she sensed he thought her handicap made her too vulnerable. As had her former boyfriend.
Why couldn’t Adam see beneath the impairment to the strong woman inside?
Good heavens, what was she thinking anyway?
She didn’t need to get involved with him. Adam Black was a detective, his life so different from hers that there was no chance they’d ever have a real relationship. The only reason he’d assigned himself as her protector was duty and his determination to find Denise.
Her head throbbed and a slight ringing echoed in her ears. She closed her eyes, massaging her temple with her fingertips. Was there something wrong with the implants or was she simply exhausted from all the sounds and the tension of looking for Denise?
She turned off her Tiffany bedside lamp and closed her eyes, envisioning cool breezes and the sounds of the ocean playing off the rocks at night. She’d heard it today when they’d driven along the coast. Slowly, the pain began to recede and she felt herself drifting into a light sleep.
But soon, a jangling noise intruded on her peace.
She jerked her eyes open, surveying the room, trying to discern the source of the sound. The ringing sounded again—the doorbell. No, this was different.
Adam walked inside and stood beside her bed, then gestured toward the phone and she noticed the light flashing. “Do you want me to answer it?”
She nodded and he punched the speakerphone button.
A nasally voice filtered over the line. “Ms. Cutter, this is Robey Burgess. I guess you saw my article by now.” He paused, but Sarah was helpless to reply, so he continued. “I know you and that cop are snooping around the research center, and I know he’s there with you now. Just thought you’d like to know that that woman you heard cry out for help is the first scientist who turned up missing.
“Last year a microbiologist named Jerome Simms was on the verge of some cutting edge research regarding the disposal of hazardous wastes. Guess what happened to him?”
“What?” Adam asked, angry Burgess had been watching them.
“He turned up dead.”
Chapter Nine
“How did he die?” Adam asked.
“I thought that would get your interest. Is Ms. Cutter there?”
“Yes, but she can’t come to the phone.”
“She’s listening though, right?”
“It doesn’t matter. Now, how did Simms die?”
“Supposedly a boating accident,” Burgess said. “But Simms was an expert swimmer and diver. Sounds suspicious, doesn’t it?”
Adam gritted his teeth, hating to agree with anything the slimy tabloid reporter said. “It’s interesting.”
“Interesting, hell, it’s too coincidental and you know it. I’d like to strike a deal—”
“I don’t deal with reporters,” Adam said.
“I was talking about a deal with Ms. Cutter.”
“You expect her to trust a sleazeball who printed garbage a
bout her and put her in danger?”
“She should have told me the truth. After what happened with her old man, I thought she’d want to know that Simms was about to sell his research to a foreign government.” Burgess whistled. “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Ms. Cutter? You wanna talk now?”
Sarah flinched.
Adam exhaled, battling his temper. “She’s not interested, Mr. Burgess, now leave Sarah alone.”
“I could help you crack this open—”
“I don’t need help. I do my own investigating.” Adam punched off the phone, cutting off the man’s reply.
A haunted look darkened Sarah’s eyes. He pulled her hands into his, hating the reporter for hurting her. Her fingers were so cold he rubbed them with his own, trying to warm them.
As much as he hated to admit it, Simms’s death sounded suspicious. He had to wonder if somehow it paralleled his sister’s disappearance.
ONCE AGAIN Sarah struggled to sleep, this time her rest was disturbed by images of death. The microbiologist. Her mother. Her father.
Adam’s sister.
Her.
The attacker had returned. This time, he’d bound and gagged her and tied her to a chair. The smellasoline assaulted her, and she watched in horror as he poured gas from a metal can into a circle around her. Through the slits in the ski mask, his piercing eyes darted up to her and a smile curled his lips. He was laughing, taking pleasure in his game…. Why?
Who was he? Why did he want to kill her?
And why couldn’t she stop him? Why couldn’t she cry out for help?
Adam’s sister, a petite version of the man, dark hair, olive skin, drifted toward her. No! Denise was walking into the flames as if she couldn’t see them. Oh, God. Her father was standing behind Denise.
Sarah had to save her. To yell her name.
She opened her mouth to scream, but fear trapped the sound in her throat. Thick, cold terror paralyzed her, just like the day her mother had died.
Flames burst around her, eating the wooden floor, sucking the oxygen from the air, scalding her skin….
The voices returned. A man’s. Low, threatening. Denise’s cry. Soft, anguished.
She bolted upward, tears streaming down her face. What was happening to her? Was she losing her mind?
Adam suddenly pulled her into his arms, crooning soft words.
“Shh, it’s all right, Sarah. You’re safe now.”
She curled against him, soaking up his warmth, praying he was right, that his sister hadn’t died. That her father hadn’t been there. No, he was dead.
And she was selfishly grateful she was alive.
And in Adam’s arms, she felt more alive than she ever had before.
All her life she’d been treated differently because of her hearing impairment. She didn’t want to be considered weak, defective. She wanted to feel desirable, like a whole woman. Like Adam’s woman.
She lifted her hand and sought comfort by pressing her lips to Adam’s. He met her mouth with a low growl, then dragged her into his arms and licked at her lips with his tongue. His kiss was hungry, almost savage as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, tasting every corner, greedily taking all she had to offer. Sarah arched her neck and clung to him, matching his hunger with her own fierce need. His big hands splayed across her back, touching her everywhere, cupping her face to angle her mouth for a deeper kiss, stroking her hair, the sensitive skin of her neck, rubbing her arms, her waist, then roaming to her breasts.
Sarah’s body tingled with desire, her nipples tightening beneath the satiny barrier of her gown. She whimpered softly, clenching her hands around his taut muscles as he dipped his head and began to lave her neck with his tongue. He sipped and kissed the sensitive skin behind her ear, then traced a fiery path down her neck, lower, until he’d jerked open the top button of her nightshirt and his mouth sucked the curve of her breasts.
Liquid heat pooled in her belly. Sarah dug her nails into his arms, hanging on for the most intense ride she could ever imagine.
But suddenly he stopped. Her breath rushed out, ragged and torn, her heart pounded in rapid beats as he pulled away and stared at the opening of her shirt. Her breasts weren’t large, but neither were they small, and they swelled beneath his heated gaze, aching for his touch.
He dragged his gaze up to her mouth, then her eyes, a look of pure raw hunger brimming in the depths, yet she also saw regret and some other emotion banked in his gaze. What was he thinking?
She mouthed the word, “What?”
He tugged her shirt together and buttoned the top button, his fingers shaking. The pain of his withdrawal left a chill inside her that resurrected all the times other men had found her lacking.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. That was a mistake.” He stood, his back rigid as he turned to collect himself. With a guttural sound from deep in his throat, he stalked from the room, leaving her cold and alone.
Sarah knew she should let him go, but she’d fought for independence all her life and had never backed down from a fight. She wouldn’t now.
Adam stared out the window, the black, starless sky mirroring his dark mood. Sarah had a nightmare, had needed comfort, but a comforting embrace had turned into something else.
He heard her footsteps padding on the carpet and closed his eyes, steeling himself against her reaction. She would have regrets in the morning, maybe blame him for taking advantage of the situation.
She tugged at his arm, and he slowly turned to face her, his apology forming in his mind. She looked angry all right, her eyes blazing, her lips parted, her cheeks rosy-red.
Or were her cheeks grazed from his crude near-lovemaking?
She thrust her Palm Pilot toward him with a trembling hand. He studied her for a moment, his gut clenching at the vulnerable look in her eyes. Finally he dropped his gaze and read, “Why did you stop?”
His gaze swung to her, and he watched her fold her arms across her chest. She couldn’t know that the movement only accentuated her breasts and made his hunger grow.
“I—I let things get out of control. I’m sorry.” He rammed a hand through his hair, sending the overly long strands in disarray. “I told you I wouldn’t touch you again and I broke my promise.”
She exhaled a shaky breath, then wrote. “I never asked you for that promise. I never asked you to stop.”
She couldn’t know what she was saying. “Look, Sarah, you’re too damn innocent for me.”
“Innocent?” she mouthed.
“Yes.” He stared at her, seeing the truth in the emotions flitting in her eyes. “You are, aren’t you? You’ve never been with a man?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sarah scribbled. “I could feel the heat between us. You can’t deny that.”
He cursed. She was a virgin. If she’d waited that long to be with a man, it should be perfect. It should be with the man she wanted to marry. He didn’t fit that bill at all. “I can’t deny we have chemistry. I’m a man and you’re a beautiful woman, but sex and love have nothing to do with each other. And what you and I have is lust, honey, pure and simple lust.”
Hereyebrow rose.
“You—you’re vulnerable, Sarah, too damn soft for a man like me. For God’s sake, you just had surgery, someone tried to kill you and you’ve been traumatized….” He threw up his hands in frustration. “And I have to find my sister. I don’t have time for a personal relationship right now. Or ever. So, go back to bed and leave me alone.”
She raised a hand to write a reply, but he cut her off, knowing he had to say something to convince her. He just wasn’t the man for her. She needed a nicer, stable guy who’d come home to her every night with flowers and candy, not a jaded detective who had nothing to offer her.
“Think about it, Sarah, you’re too fragile for me. My life is my job and that’s the way I like it.”
Hurt flickered on her face, slamming guilt into his already confused soul, then she turned and walked into her bedroom, leaving him alone, just as he’d requested
.
SARAH HAD WANTED to hear for years, but right now, she wished she could block out the harsh words Adam had just muttered. Because those words confirmed every worst fear she had, every insecurity, every dash of hope that a normal, strong man like Adam would want her. Hadn’t she learned anything from her college boyfriend?
He’d refused to make love to her because he was afraid she would get pregnant, that they might have an imperfect child or that she wouldn’t be a good mother because she couldn’t hear.
Furious with herself for confronting Adam, she tried to pull herself together.
She would not cry over Adam Black.
She’d had worse things happen in her life than enduring a man’s rejection, and she would survive. She would also make sure they kept their relationship work oriented from now on. Just as he wanted.
Yes, she’d do her best to help him find his sister, then he would be out of her life for good.
LONG AFTER Sarah went to bed, Adam sat in front of his laptop, trying to forget the hurt look in Sarah’s eyes, and searched for information on the microbiologist, Jerome Simms. Apparently the man’s research focused on the role of microbes in the cleanup of hazardous wastes. After his death, reporters speculated that he’d uncovered some mishandling of wastes by the research center, implying that the soil and waters nearby could be contaminated. It had also been speculated that he’d developed a new synthetic compound. If the center wanted to cover it up, they could have killed him.
However, nothing was found to substantiate the claims, the research center cooperated with the investigation and the man’s death had been deemed accidental.
The report was short and to the point, but offered nothing concrete, nothing that satisfied Adam. Government cover-ups had happened before. Could they have happened here in the coastal area?
Still, even if the microbiologist had been killed because of some fluke discovery, his sister hadn’t been working with microbes or the environment. The last he knew, she worked in neurology, researching a cure for Alzheimer’s.