“Hell, yes,” she snorted.
Smiling, he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Good. Just so we understand each other.”
He figured it would always be that way between them; she was too smart and in de pen dent to take things at face value. She would always keep her guard up, ask questions until she heard the answer she wanted. Some men hated that, but he liked knowing she was capable of thinking on her feet, that she didn’t take crap from anyone, and that she stood up for herself and for those she loved. He knew he was intimidating, and would run right over a weaker woman. Some men liked that. He didn’t. He wanted a woman who could go toe-to-toe with him; he wanted a woman he could respect.
He wanted Georgie. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against a partition and let his gaze roam over her body. From the top of her luxurious dark hair to the tips of her pretty pink shoes, she was exactly what he wanted.
She must have felt him looking at her, because she raised her eyes to him and smiled. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Hmm. Thought I heard something rattling in here.”
She made a face, then said, “You want everyone to think you’re distant, uncaring, but that’s not true. You’re kindhearted and sweet.”
“Just the kind of reputation a police officer wants to have,” he drawled. “Really puts the fear of God into the bad guys.”
Georgie picked up a spoon, wiped it with the edge of her apron. “What ever you say, Detective. Hey, have you talked to Ozzie yet?”
“Couldn’t find him. They said at the front desk he hadn’t come in yet.”
Her brows lowered. “That’s strange. He’s always here for my tapings, and always early. Like a mother hen checking to see if the barnyard is in order.”
“Yeah? Well, where do you think he is, then?”
At that moment, the director yelled for everyone to take their places. “On my way,” Georgie said, setting the spoon on the counter. “No audience today, Ethan, so we should be done in an hour or two.”
He looked on while Georgie went through her paces, smiling for the camera, giving hints, tips, and advice on how to feng shui your home to make it more romantic. What in the hell for? he wondered. Anyplace you could stretch out and have sex was plenty romantic. Must be a woman thing.
As the show began to wrap up, he felt his cell phone vibrate inside his pocket. Checking the readout, he moved out of the set’s microphone range, pressed the button, and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Nate. What’s up?”
At the other end of the connection, Ethan could hear sirens, voices, someone shouting orders. “Well,” Nate said, “I’ve got kind of a bad news, badder news situation here I thought you should know about.”
Ethan lowered his head, cupping his hand over his right ear while he listened intently. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. A couple of hours ago, we got a call. Neighbors complained of a foul smell coming from the house next door. Turned out to be one very deceased Vaughn Corcoran.”
Ethan pulled in a breath. “Jesus Christ, Vaughn Corcoran’s dead? The ME nail the cause?”
“Looks like heart failure. Somebody stuck a knife through it.”
The little hairs on the back of Ethan’s neck began to prickle, then his gut tightened. “Well, if that’s the bad news, then what’s the badder news?”
“That would be the crime scene.”
“What do you mean?” he said slowly.
“What I mean is, Vaughn Corcoran was stabbed to death in Georgiana Mundy’s bedroom.”
Ethan’s jaw dropped. “No…fucking…way.”
“Fucking way. Now the only question is, do you want to bring her with you, or do I need to send a uniform to pick her up?”
Caroline had been so fussy, it had taken Raine an hour to get the baby down for her nap. She’d taken a bottle, but was so wound up from crawling around, exploring the big house, and petting the soft white kitty, she cried whenever Raine tried to put her in the crib. Finally, Caroline’s long lashes rested against her chubby cheeks, her pouty little mouth went slack, and she drifted off to baby dreamland.
The crib Moxie had acquired was magnificent, from its hand-carved oak headboard of fairies frolicking through a forest, to the soft sheets and bumper pad printed with gray and pink kittens pouncing and prancing and dancing.
Bending over the rail, Raine placed a kiss on her baby’s cool cheek. “Sleep tight, my angel.”
With one last look, she eased out of the room, closing the door behind her. As tired as Caroline was, with the combination of a bottle and a hearty lunch of mashed bananas and rice cereal, she’d probably sleep like a rock for at least three hours.
The nursery was accessible through a connecting bathroom, so as she returned to her own room, she glanced at the clock. It was nearly one.
Ethan and Georgie were gone and weren’t expected back until at least four. She knew Lucas was across the hall, in his room. Moxie was working out in the garden. Caroline was asleep.
Even though she was nervous, she had a decision to make. A choice, really. Ever since she’d met Lucas, something inside her had been urging her to take a second look at this one, not dismiss him as quickly as she had the others, maybe even be a little bold.
She sat on the edge of her bed, resting her elbows on her knees.
She’d never considered herself particularly pro-active, but maybe that needed to change. There was something she wanted, something she had been thinking about for a long time now, but didn’t know how to get. It all came down to trust—who could she trust to help her do this thing she wanted to do?
Everything inside her promised that Lucas Russell was the right man at the right time with the right moves.
Her cheeks suddenly felt too hot for her body. Rushing to the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and tried to quiet her racing heart.
Raising her head, she looked at herself in the mirror. Really, it was now or never. Don’t chicken out, Raine. Even if he laughs at you, at least you took the step, made the move, were bold. Hell, she’d held a gun on a group of thugs without breaking a sweat, but this, she was nervous about?
She clenched her jaw and lifted her head, squared her shoulders. Yeah, okay. It’s time. Let’s do this thing.
The changes of clothes Moxie had provided were practical and attractive, and fit fairly well considering the house keeper had only had Ethan’s description of her and hadn’t known her size. However, nothing in the high-end department store bags could be construed as sexy, alluring, or seductive.
But Lucas was, after all, a man, and bare skin would probably work just as well.
Quickly shucking off her clothes, she reached for the silky blue robe hanging from the back of her door. Wrapping it around her naked body, she took one last check in the mirror.
She pinched her cheeks, fluffed her hair. Moistening her lips, she smiled weakly at her reflection. Okay, not a siren, but not half bad, either.
With her ears buzzing, her heart hammering, and her knees quaking, she approached Lucas’s door and knocked once. Hearing nothing, she turned the knob and eased the door open.
The drapes were drawn against the bright afternoon sun, casting the room in a soft amber light. Lucas sat on the bed, his back against the headboard, an open book on his lap. Except for the pair of faded denims he wore, he was naked. His neck crooked a little, his eyes were closed.
She turned to go.
“Raine?” he rasped, his deep voice rough with sleep. “Is everything all right?”
Swallowing the gigantic lump in her throat, she closed the bedroom door and made her way toward the bed. When she reached it, she stopped.
“Raine?”
She licked her lips. “Are you married?” she whispered.
“Uh, no. Not anymore.” His blue eyes clouded with confusion.
“Are you engaged?”
“No. Raine, why—”
“Are you involved with someone in a relationship that could be in any way considered committed?”
“No. Look, Raine—”
“So, you’re free?”
He cleared his throat, then rubbed his hand over his face as though trying to make some sense of all this. “I’m free,” he said.
Her eyes traveled over his handsome face, across his broad shoulders. His bare chest was covered with a slight dusting of blond hair, and his abs were taut. As he set the book aside, his rounded biceps bulged, and his pecs flexed. Yes, she thought. Yes, he was definitely the man for the job.
“Okay, then,” she mumbled. Loosening the tie on her robe, she let it slip from her shoulders and slide down her back until it fell in a silky puddle of fabric at her feet. “In that case, would you please make love to me?”
For long seconds, the only sound in the room was their breathing. His had changed, and it now seemed as though he was working for every breath. Finally, he said, “Raine, I…that’s the sweetest proposition I’ve ever had. And, um, the most unusual.”
Sliding out of bed, he reached for her robe and wrapped it around her, covering her body. “You’re tired, emotionally drained, confused. You don’t want this, Raine. Maybe you should go back to your room now.”
“But I do want this. I want to make love with you. I’ve never, I mean, I…well, for a long time—”
“You don’t have to explain,” he murmured. She felt his hand caress her hair and she realized she wanted so much more of him than even just this. “I think you should choose a better man for this than me.”
She turned to him, defiantly shoving her robe away, pressing her naked breasts against his chest. “I can’t think of a better man.”
“Dear God, Raine,” he choked, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. “You deserve so much better than a man like me. I don’t know what to say…”
She slipped her arms around his neck, letting the heat of his body warm her. Against her stomach, she felt his erection, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid. This was Lucas, after all. The man she chose, the man she wanted…
He lowered his head, found her mouth, kissed her. A moment later, she pulled back, searching his eyes.
“I know you did a file on me,” she whispered. “How…how much do you know about me?”
A mix of compassion and anger filled his eyes. “Everything. I’m sorry.”
“Not your doing. Not your fault.”
“Even so,” he said softly. His thumb caressed her cheek. “Even so. And then what that bastard Corcoran did to you. I can’t believe how well you’ve come through that. I swear I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman I’ve admired so much as you. Jesus, Raine, you’re incredible.”
“To be honest,” she said, laying her head against his chest, glad Lucas was taking this slowly, allowing her some time, “when I think about what Paul did, I’m just glad I don’t remember it.”
Lucas bent, sliding his arm under her knees. In a moment, she was lying on the bed, facing him, wrapped tightly in his embrace. Burrowing her face into his shoulder, she smiled. This was good, this was right. She wanted this…
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “If you’d feel comfortable sharing it with me, I mean, if you’d like to talk about it, I’d like to hear what happened. I know the basics, but I’m curious as hell about what he said when you confronted him. What kind of rationale did the bastard have for doing what he did to you?”
Reaching up, she let her fingers stroll through his hair, caress his neck, his shoulders. He bent his head and kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then settled in for a deep, luxurious kiss on her mouth. His hand eased up to cup her breast, slide over her taut nipple. It felt so incredibly good.
She suddenly wished she’d met Lucas two years ago, instead of Paul. But then she wouldn’t have Caroline.
“He…Paul actually acted insulted,” she stumbled as Lucas nibbled on her neck. “When I accused him of rape, he sort of laughed, shrugged it off, and said none of the others had complained. I sensed that he really didn’t think it was a big deal, and didn’t even really consider it rape, since the victim wasn’t aware of what was happening.”
Lucas lifted his head and scowled down at her. “Wait. He said no one else had complained?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Huh.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, isn’t that interesting. I wonder who ‘no one else’ is?”
After that, he returned his attention to her mouth, her breasts, slid his hand down her thigh. After that, they didn’t talk for a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty-two
Death destroys the balance of energy in a house. Do not build your new home on, or near, a graveyard or butcher shop. And if someone dies inside your house, it is especially unfortunate if they do so downstairs.
Georgiana Mundy’s Feng Shui for Lovers
Shocked and confused, Georgie arrived with Ethan, to see the street in front of her house clogged with police cars, aid vehicles, and a coroner’s van, as well as a gaggle of TV, radio, and newspaper reporters. She’d never attended a crime scene before, but even so, this one seemed rather quiet, subdued somehow, and she wondered if it was always this way.
Her neighbors, people she’d known for years, stood in small huddles, murmuring among themselves, speculating, casting curious gazes at each other, and at all the goings-on.
And why wouldn’t they? If what Ethan said was true, a man who was basically her employer, head of a billion-dollar multimedia empire, and possibly California’s next political powerhouse—not to mention the fact he was her ex-boyfriend’s father—had been found in her house, in her bedroom, with a nine-inch butcher knife embedded between his shoulder blades.
Once the news leaked—and it always leaked—that Paul Corcoran had fathered a child by Georgie’s best friend, and that Georgie hated both the Corcorans, there would be no doubt in the eyes of the world that Georgie had had more than enough motive for murder.
This was just the kind of setup the media loved. Famous people…sex, lies, explosive emotions…murder. It would make national, probably even international news, and until the police identified the killer, she sure didn’t need a detective to explain to her that she was suspect number one.
As she stood by the open door of Ethan’s car, staring up at her own house and the activity going on around and inside it, she felt as though someone had punched her right between the eyes, and she just hadn’t collapsed to the ground yet.
Ethan slid his arm around her waist. Was it a show of moral support, or did she look like she was going to hit the ground, face first? “You hanging in there?”
“I’m hanging,” she murmured, hoping that wasn’t an unfortunate choice of words.
“Nate wants to talk to you. Just be honest, okay?”
She blinked a couple of thousand times, then shoved his arm away. “Be honest?” she repeated. “Be honest? You don’t think…I mean, you can’t believe that I had anything to do with—”
“Ms. Mundy?”
She shifted toward the voice. “Yes?”
“I’m Inspector Darling. Nate Darling. Hey, Ethan.”
The two men studied each other for a moment, then shook hands. “Hey,” Ethan said.
Nate released his brother’s hand, then shoved both his hands in his pockets. “I need to take your statement, Ms. Mundy.” When he smiled, his grin was boyish, charming, disarming.
She flicked a sour look at Ethan as if to say, Ah, the congenial, affable, nice brother, then said to Nate, “Sure.”
Nate Darling was as tall as Ethan, and as good-looking, but instead of Ethan’s dark hair and hazel eyes, Nate was blond, his eyes brown. He wore gold wire-rimmed glasses—which somehow managed to make him look even hunkier.
Standing side by side in exquisitely tailored suits, Ethan and Nate made a stunning pair—masculine, rugged, intense. They looked like two movie stars on a break from shooting an action scene, and Georgie imagined that, whenever they entered a room together, feminine hearts actually fluttered.
“Not yet,” Nate said. “Ms. Mundy, what kind of relationship did you have with Vaughn Corcoran?”
She hated him. “I hated him. I mean, I’m sorry he’s dead and everything, but I hated him.”
“Where were you on Saturday?”
“I picked her up early,” Ethan interjected. “We drove to Napa together.”
Nate shifted his attention to Ethan. “When you picked her up, early, did you go into her bedroom?”
The question hung in the air between them for a moment. “No.” To Georgie, he said, “You were in such a huff when we left, did you remember to lock your front door?”
Had she? Thinking back, she was so flustered that Ethan had demanded he drive her to Napa, she’d slammed the door closed, but had it locked properly?
“I—I think so,” she said softly. “It’s a new lock. Maybe it didn’t close all the way. I don’t know for sure.”
“Anybody else have a key to your house?”
“No. I hadn’t had time to give the new key to anyone.” She shook her head as though that might rattle the answer loose. “I just don’t know.”
Nate adjusted his glasses. “The ME places prelim TOD sometime between late Friday night and noon on Saturday.” He looked at her, as though waiting for her to blurt out a confession.
“Well, obviously he had to have been killed after I left!” she snapped. “I mean, I do get a little messy sometimes, but I really think I would have noticed a dead man lying across my bed with a knife in his back! Very poor feng shui.”
Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You left him lying across your bed?”
“Nate,” Ethan said harshly. “I was in the house Saturday morning—”
“But you didn’t go in the bedroom.”
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