Private Affair

by Rebecca York

  It was an interesting transition back to the nightmare, but she knew that he was right. If they were going to talk about it, they’d better do it now before the details evaporated into the mist of her unconscious. Still, it was hard to force her tongue to form the right words.

  “Okay. You weren’t really there. But a lot of the rest of it was what I remember. At least what I remember now.”

  “You’re saying the dream was about something that really happened to you?”

  She had to gulp in air and let it out slowly before saying, “Yes. It was about a party I went to. Until tonight, I’d forgotten all about that night. I guess you could say I repressed it.”

  “Why?”

  She wanted to scream at him to stop pressing her. If she was going to talk about that night, it had to be at her own pace.

  “It wasn’t one of my better moments.”

  “But now you think this party was important?”

  When she’d come to Rockfort Security, it had been to solve the murder of a friend. Maybe on some level she’d known that she was going to have to talk about her and Angela’s high school years. Maybe the dream was her way of forcing the issue.

  On a sigh, she said, “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have dreamed about it, would I?” Still, as she said the last part, she began to shiver, fighting the feeling of being dragged under freezing water again.

  “Are you all right?” Max murmured.

  “I don’t know. I mean, all that stuff rushing back at me is a shock.”

  He gathered her closer, stroking his hands over her back and shoulders and into her hair. It felt good to be held by him—protected. And more. They were in her bed, in the middle of the night. What would happen if she raised her face to his?

  It was tempting to do that. Tempting to find out if playing house was affecting him the way it was affecting her. Or maybe in her case, it was because she hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, and she was focusing on Max in a way that was better left alone.

  Her rational mind knew it was a mistake to get involved with him. Especially now. But her emotions were so tangled up by the evening’s events and the dream that she wasn’t capable of staying logical. She raised her face, and for a moment their mouths were inches apart. She heard his breath catch just before she closed the gap between them.

  When her lips touched his, it was as though an electrical circuit had snapped closed. She felt a jolt of sensation, a frisson of heat that sizzled through her body, and she silently acknowledged what she hadn’t told him. In the dream, seeing him had sent a wave of heat coursing through her. Then it had been unwanted. Not now.

  She had initiated the kiss, but he didn’t remain passive. His lips moved over hers, and his arms gathered her to him, increasing the heated sensation. She closed her eyes, enjoying the kiss and the man, and elated by the knowledge that the sexual pull hadn’t been all on her part. There was no doubt he was responding to her, just as she was responding to him. That insight gave her a feeling of power that she hadn’t sensed in the relationship before. As she rode the wave of that power, she opened her mouth, darting her tongue out to play with the seam of his lips. He opened for her, and she drank in the taste of him, the sensuality of his tongue gliding against hers. She let the tendrils of fire wrap around the two of them, sealing them together, enjoying the man and her own arousal, and not thinking about where a kiss between two people lying on a bed might lead. But he was apparently more cautious than she.

  When he pulled back, she made a small sound of protest.

  “Max?”

  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I think I started it.”

  “And I have to put a stop to it, because this is not a good place for us to be kissing.”

  “Is there a good place?”

  “Probably not.”

  The blunt words cut, and she didn’t want to think that he was rejecting her. “Because you’re on a job?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  He shifted her body so that she was facing away from him in the bed, although he kept his arm around her. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against him. But before she could focus any more on what was happening between them, he said, “That dream about the party threw you off balance.”

  “Yes,” she answered, knowing that he intended the comment as a way to save face.

  “Tell me more about it.”

  So there would be no temptation to go back to kissing? She didn’t voice the thought, but he was quick to clarify

  “While it’s fresh in your mind.”

  “Okay. The party was at Brian Cannon’s house, and Angela wasn’t the only recently deceased person there. Gary Anderson was there and so was Patrick Morris.”

  “Gary’s the guy who was found dead in the drainage ditch? And Patrick was the one who was overcome by carbon monoxide in his house?” Max said, apparently to make sure he was getting it right.

  “Yes.”

  “So what was the party like?”

  “It was getting out of control. The football players had won a game that afternoon, and they were guzzling beer and doing shots at the bar in the rec room. They were getting wasted. Other people were making out or going off to the bedrooms. With all the drinking and making out going on, Angela and I decided we were out of our depth. Angela had her car, and we offered Linda a ride.”

  “Linda, the one who organized the reunion committee?”

  “Yes. Linda Unger.”

  “But Brian didn’t want us to leave. He was blocking us from going up the stairs from the rec room to the first floor. Then Troy Masters came over and told him that if we wanted to leave, he and Tommy Larson could take us home.”

  “Troy is Mr. Princeton, and Tommy is a local success, too?”

  “Right. I was focused on Troy and Brian, and I wasn’t paying attention to the guys at the bar, when suddenly Gary and another guy started fighting.”

  “Gary, who’s now dead?”

  “Right.”

  “Who was he fighting with?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “He was turned away from me. But I know it was one of the football players. He knocked Gary down. And when Gary came up, he had a gun in his hand—and he shot it.”

  “Jesus! What happened?”

  “My guess? He didn’t really want to kill the guy because he didn’t hit him. But everybody went into a panic. Some people were trying to hide, and others were running to the stairs. I was going to get trampled, and I think Patrick pulled me out of the way.”

  “Patrick who’s now dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “I guess that was when I also heard you screaming in your sleep. You were in the middle of a riot.”

  “And I was hitting you. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” He kept his gaze on her. “I woke you up and cut off the dream. But what happened back then?”

  “The football players got the gun away from Gary.”

  “And then what?”

  She laughed. “Well, Gary’s shooting the gun broke up the party. Maybe everybody realized that they could have gotten into real trouble.”

  “And Brian called the cops?”

  “Actually, no,” Olivia said.

  “Why not?”

  “I guess you can think of it as a conspiracy of silence. He didn’t rat out Gary, and nobody who was there told about how the party had ended.”

  Max made a dismissive sound. “You’re saying a whole bunch of people kept a secret like that?”

  “As far as I know. Maybe because it was such a shock. I mean, today there are a lot of guns around. Back then, not so much. And it was only about a month until graduation. Nobody wanted to get in trouble and face the consequences.”

  “Did you find out whose gun it was?”

  “I didn’t find out. I’m assuming it belonged to his parents.”

  “And how did the shoot-out at the party affect everyone’s re
lationship with Gary?”

  “Well, after the gun incident, they were more cautious around him. You could say they withdrew from him.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. Did that make him more aggressive?”

  “I don’t know. I really did keep away from him after that. I mean, there was no telling what he might do.”

  “Right, people knew he had a violent streak. Maybe he went after someone else years later. Which could have been how he ended up dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “Which might mean his death’s not related to Angela.”

  “I guess that’s true.” She shivered again. “What if this is more complicated than I thought? And it’s spooky thinking about the implications. I was there with Angela. She’s dead now, and so is Gary—and Patrick.”

  “From what you say, you had direct interaction at the party with Angela and Patrick. But not with Gary.”

  “Yes. And I had completely forgotten about the party—until tonight.” She paused for a moment. “I mean it was pretty…upsetting. I guess it was the first time I saw things get that much out of control—ending with the gun. Until then, smoking in the woods was a big deal. Or somebody getting hold of a six-pack of beer.”

  “You came from a pretty tame environment.”

  “Yes. And now you telling me to focus on the murders brought back stuff I didn’t want to remember.”

  He nodded. “Of course, the dream could be important for other reasons.”

  “Like how?”

  “Before Gary shot the gun, what was happening?”

  She grimaced. She didn’t really want to talk about her own behavior, which she’d avoided discussing. Instead, she made the comment general. “Well, some kids were drinking. Others were dancing or making out, and some had even gone upstairs to the bedrooms. Angela, Linda, and I just wanted to get out of there when we saw how out of hand it was.”

  “Hmm. It’s how I’d expect rich high school kids to act—until the shooting.”

  “But I wasn’t a rich high school kid. We’re back in the house where I grew up, and it’s not exactly a luxury mansion.”

  “Okay. But you were hanging out with the rich crowd.”

  “The in crowd, I’d put it. And I had lied about where I was. If my dad had found out, I would have been in deep doo-doo. And he would have made sure Angela’s parents knew about it.”

  “How did she fit into that crowd?”

  “She wasn’t one of the rich kids either, if that’s what you’re asking. Her parents owned a couple of antique shops. One in Ellicott City and one in New Market. Both of us worked hard to fit in.”

  “How?”

  She was sorry she’d said that last part. “Being friendly. Going along with what the gang wanted.”

  “Drinking and smoking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Drugs?”

  “I managed to avoid drugs.”

  He looked thoughtful, and she braced for another probing question about herself. To her relief, he asked, “And if we went to the house where they had the party, would we find a bullet hole in the wall?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Brian patched it up and painted the wall or something before his parents came home.”

  “You never went back to his house?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wasn’t really friends with him. I wouldn’t have gone there to hang out. And that night gave me the feeling that it was dangerous to be around him.”

  “Well, the dream gives us more to work with. Who else was there?”

  She thought for a moment. “Claire Lowden and Zeke Pressman. They were making out.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She laid her forehead against Max’s shoulder, silently admitting that there was more she should say, but she didn’t really want to. Did she have to tell him everything?

  He stroked his hand up and down her arm, making her skin tingle.

  “Do you remember when the party was? What month?”

  She thought about that. “It was May. I even know the date. Brian said they were celebrating Cinco de Mayo. May fifth.”

  “Good. That may be helpful.” He kept stroking her, then finally said, “It’s still pretty early in the morning. You think you can go back to sleep?”

  She wanted to say she’d feel safer if he stayed there with her, but she knew that asking him to sleep in her bed was a bad idea—as bad as having kissed him. Instead she gave the only answer that she could. “Yes.”

  ***

  Conscious of Olivia’s gaze on his nearly naked body, Max forced himself to climb out of bed and head down the hall to the room where he was sleeping. He wanted to stay. Olivia wanted him to stay, but if he did, he’d end up doing something he knew was unprofessional. Worse than what he’d already done. Deliberately switching his thoughts away from himself, he started thinking about Olivia’s dream again. She’d said it was what had happened the night of the party, but she’d hesitated at several points, which made him wonder if she was being completely straight with him.

  Was there something she had done? Something that embarrassed her? Or worse?

  They were going to have to talk about it again, but he knew from her evasive behavior that he was going to have to give her a little time.

  He switched his thoughts back to himself. Or more accurately, the two of them. Her talking about the past had brought up the incident in the pizza parlor, when he’d come over and rescued her from the two creeps.

  He’d thought she didn’t remember it or that maybe she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. But she was the one who had brought it up.

  He’d wanted to hear more about it, but that would only be for his personal enlightenment. It had no bearing on the current investigation. Well, he’d established that the other girl had been Angela. But the rest of it wasn’t important, he told himself.

  Chapter 10

  A few hours later, the smell of coffee drifted toward Max as he walked slowly down the steps, through the living room and dining room, and into the kitchen. He and Olivia had been in the house together for a few days, and she’d served him breakfast, in case anyone was watching their morning routine.

  As on the previous mornings, he was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a light jacket. He followed the tempting aroma of the coffee and found Olivia standing with her back to him at the stove, scrambling eggs. She was also dressed casually in jeans and a knit shirt, but she looked far from relaxed.

  Her movements were as jerky as a marionette’s and her shoulders as rigid as a fence rail, and he knew she hated the thought of facing him in the morning. Because of her behavior in bed? Or was she flashing back to the dream and what she hadn’t told him about the evening in question?

  You could say this was a very weird morning after, considering all they had done was kiss.

  “Coffee is in the pot,” she said, pointing toward the coffee machine on the sideboard.

  He’d used the machine before without comment. Now he made an attempt at conversation. “Was this your dad’s?”

  Her laugh was brittle. “God forbid that he’d spend money on a fancy coffee setup. He made do with instant. I brought some luxuries from New York. Good coffee is a necessity I can’t live without.”

  “It wakes you up?”

  “It keeps me going all day.”

  He poured some into the mug sitting beside it.

  “And you take it black, right?” she said.

  “Right.” For the moment, he didn’t ask how she’d slept or get into anything personal. For the past couple of hours, he’d been going over lists of things they should do regarding the case. It was a long list, and he figured it should take their minds off the kiss. If anything could take their minds off the kiss.

  “We have a lot more to work with,” he said as he sipped from the coffee mug.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I had said we should talk to the guy who’s renting the farmland from your family.”

  “Bill Yeager,” she
interjected.

  “Yes. And I still think that should be first on the list, since somebody was sneaking around here last night.”

  Maybe the dream had overshadowed the incident out in the woods. Now she rubbed her hands up and down her arms as she nodded.

  “I’d also said we should talk to Angela’s mother. But I think we might change the focus and talk to some of the people who were at the party.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She turned to face him, and he saw her inspecting the wounds on his face.

  “They’re healing,” he said.

  “Yes, you were lucky you didn’t damage your eye. But what are you going to tell people who ask what happened?”

  He had decided on a strategy for that. “I’m going to tell them what happened last night.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. It’s actually a good idea. I can get their reactions, and I can say that as your new fiancé, I’m worried about your safety, and I want to know about what happened on Cinco de Mayo—since you dreamed about it after the reunion meeting.”

  “But they all wanted to forget about that party—the way I did.”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “That was before someone started killing members of the class—all three of whom were there, as it turns out.”

  “You don’t know the murders are related. You don’t even know that Gary or Patrick was murdered. The police labeled each one an accident. That’s why I hired you. Well, Angela was the primary reason. But I wanted to know if it was connected.”

  “It seems to me that you hired me because you thought the deaths were related. Now are you taking the other side of the argument?”

  She sighed. “Maybe.”

  “Because of the dream?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it.”

  She gave him a long look but said nothing.

  “One thing I bet we’ll find out when we start asking questions is who Gary was fighting with.”

  “Maybe,” she said again.

  When she didn’t elaborate, he asked, “Why not? You might not have seen it clearly, but I’m sure somebody did. Like other guys on the team who were right up there with the would-be victim.”

  She answered with a tight nod, then asked, “Do you want orange juice?”