Dangerous Liaisons

by Maggie Price

  She touched an unsteady fingertip to her right cheek and whimpered when pain knifed through her temple. After the requisite X rays, poking and prodding, a doctor had determined that nothing was broken and she’d suffered a slight concussion. In Nicole’s opinion, there was nothing slight about it, considering the way everything from her neck up throbbed. But she was keeping that to herself. Even without her letting on how obscene the pain was when she’d arrived at the ER, the doctor had wanted to keep her for observation. She’d forced a few thin smiles, finally cajoled him into agreeing to send her home if she had someone to wake her every hour throughout the night. After a quick call using her cell phone, she’d assured the doctor that Kathy Key, her close friend who lived in the apartment next to hers, was more than willing to do nursing duty. Trouble was, Kathy’s car was in the shop and her husband was out of town, so she had no way of getting to the hospital. Undaunted, Nicole had asked Kathy to call Mel Hall.

  Kathy had phoned back to assure Nicole that her dependable-as-the-sunrise assistant was on his way.

  Anticipating Mel’s arrival, Nicole shoved back the sheet that covered her and eased into a sitting position. She was immediately sorry when the small cubicle began to spin.

  “It’ll pass,” she muttered, gripping the edge of the gurney while waiting for the sensation to fade. When it did, she pulled the sheet over her lap and bare legs to dispel a chill that had nothing to do with the thin gown she was wearing and everything to do with the events of the evening. She wanted to be in her own home, in her own bed, where she felt safe.

  From somewhere outside her curtained cubicle came a jumble of voices, the squeak of crepe-soled shoes on tile, the beeping of some sort of instrument. The noise, the sense of nearby movement, reinforced the knowledge that anyone could wander in. Anyone, including the person who’d attacked her.

  Paranoid, she told herself while dragging in a deep breath against a fresh surge of nausea. She had sensed the man had been as surprised as she when he’d rushed out the door and smashed into her. He couldn’t identify her any more than she could him. Why, then, had he hit her? There had been no lights on in the house, so maybe she’d surprised a burglar whose first reflex had been to strike out? She simply didn’t know. Maybe by now Jake had talked to DeSoto and had the answers that eluded her.

  “Nicole! Oh, my sweet Lord, Nicole.” Mel, dressed in khaki slacks and a loose-fitting shirt, stood in the opening between the curtains, his face ashen.

  She forced a smile. “Mel, I’m okay—”

  “I can see you’re not.”

  He was beside her in a flash, his eyes filled with distress. His hands gripped hers, tightening until bone rubbed bone.

  When she winced, he instantly loosened his hold. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just…your cheek. Don’t you think you should lie down?”

  “I’ve been lying down for over two hours.” She tipped her head. “The look on your face tells me I ought to avoid mirrors.”

  His blue eyes softened as he stared down at her. “I’m sorry. I…I’m so sorry.”

  “About what?”

  His brows slid together, smoothed again. “That you’re hurt.”

  “The doctor said I’ll be as good as new in a few days.”

  “How do you feel now?”

  She eased one of her hands from Mel’s, patted at her French twist, which now sagged hopelessly onto her neck. “The same way I’m sure I look. Awful.”

  “You’re so beautiful. So perfect. You could never look awful. Never.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Not only do you cut through paperwork like a lawnmower, you stroke my ego. Remind me to give you a raise.”

  “Okay.” He flashed a grin. “I’ll start earning that extra money by calling the insurance company about your Jaguar.”

  She blinked. Her car had been fine when the EMTs eased her out of it. As far as she knew, it was still parked in DeSoto’s driveway. “What happened to the Jag?”

  “Weren’t you in a wreck?” Mel whisked a hand through his blond hair. “All Kathy said when she called was that you’d been hit, were hurt and you needed me. I didn’t ask questions. I just assumed someone had hit you in the Jag. When I saw the cop outside, I figured he was here to take a report.”

  “There’s a cop outside?” Nicole asked, struggling to think past both the pain and the drug.

  “On the other side of the curtain. I had to give my name before he’d let me in.”

  “Jake didn’t mention he was sending anyone.”

  “Jake?”

  “Sergeant Ford. You met him in my office today.”

  “I remember. What’s he got to do with this?”

  “He came to DeSoto’s house when I called.”

  “You were in a wreck at Villanova’s house?” Mel asked, peering down at her with bewilderment.

  “No.”

  Massaging her aching forehead, she gave Mel a rundown on how their client’s leaving his pen in her office that morning had led to her getting assaulted on his porch that night.

  Mel’s lips thinned. “You should have asked me to return his pen. I’d have done it for you.”

  “There was no reason—”

  “God, Nicole, don’t you realize you could have been killed?”

  “Yes.” With her free hand, she clenched the edge of the gurney. “Mel, I don’t feel up to a safety lecture.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that you’re hurt.” He shook his head. “Are you sure you didn’t get a good look at the man?”

  “I didn’t get any kind of look at him. It was too dark, things happened too fast. Whoever it was, he was big, muscular and packed a punch. That’s why I’m guessing it was a man.”

  “Well, the first item of business is for me to take you home. I’ll get you settled, then make a warm compress for your cheek.” He angled his chin. “You having any nausea?”

  “Some.”

  “I’ll brew ginger tea. That always settles Mother’s stomach.”

  Nicole sighed. Edna Hall was lucky to have a son like Mel.

  “Keep this up and I’ll double that raise.” Nicole glanced down at her pink hospital gown. “Actually, the first order of business is finding a nurse to help me get dressed.” She eased her hand from Mel’s comforting grip. “Kathy will spend the night—”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “No, you have your mother to consider.”

  “On your couch,” he continued, his handsome face set in stubborn lines of worry. “I’ve arranged for a neighbor to stay with Mother.”

  This was one time Nicole took little delight in Mel’s eagerness to please. Her head hurt, she was groggy and her stomach was flip-flopping like a beached trout. She didn’t have the strength to explain how inappropriate his spending the night on her couch would be. “I appreciate it, Mel, but—”

  “I’m taking Miss Taylor home.”

  Nicole had no idea how long Jake had been standing just inside the cubicle. All she knew was that the instant she heard his voice, her heart did an unsteady cartwheel in her chest.

  If she hadn’t realized before that she had wandered into an emotional quagmire, she did now.

  Mel turned. “No offense, Sergeant Ford, but wouldn’t your time be better spent finding out who assaulted my boss?”

  “No offense taken. This time.”

  When Jake crossed to her, Nicole noted that the dark stubble shadowing his jaw only made him more attractive, especially when combined with hair a week late for the barber. Despite her present groggy state, she recognized the deep desire to be his that curled inside her. When he placed a gentle finger beneath her chin and nudged upward, that desire deepened into an ache.

  Her fingers gripped the sheet closer around her as if to form a barrier between them. She knew too well the heartbreak that could come from indulging that kind of ache.

  “How you doing?” he asked, his whiskey-colored eyes filled with grim assessment as he examined her cheek.

  “You tell me
.” She forced her eyes not to flutter shut when his thumb slid down her throat. “Does my cheek look better than it did two hours ago?”

  “I wouldn’t say better. I’d say more purple. And swollen.”

  “You’ve got a way with words, Jake Ford.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He dropped his hand. “If you feel up to it, I’ve got some things to go over with you—”

  “Can’t that wait?” Mel asked, his voice carrying a thread of indignation. “Nicole is obviously in pain.”

  Jake turned his head, skewering Mel with a stare that could cut through steel. “Some things can wait, Hall. Others can’t.”

  “Not even until morning?” Mel persisted.

  “No.”

  Jake looked back at her, his eyes softening. “Did I hear you say a nurse is going to help get you dressed?”

  “If she ever shows up.”

  Jake glanced back at Mel. “How about you find that nurse?”

  Mouth tight, Mel shifted his gaze to Nicole. “What do you want me to do, boss?”

  Understanding that he felt as if he were being dismissed, she resisted the urge to pat his hand. “It would be a big help if you could find the nurse.”

  “Sure.” He touched her, a brushing caress on her shoulder. “I don’t like to see you hurt.”

  “I’m fine now.”

  “After you find the nurse,” Jake began, “meet me in the waiting area. I need to check a few things before you head out.”

  “Fine.” Hands crammed into his pockets, Mel disappeared through the curtains.

  Jake dipped his head. “Where you’re concerned, your puppy dog assistant has a streak of pit bull in him.”

  “Mel’s very protective.”

  “Yeah.” Jake used a fingertip to nudge a wisp of hair off her injured cheek. “I got that message, loud and clear.”

  Before, Nicole had been conscious of all the sounds around her, of the hospital’s daunting size. Now, alone with Jake, she was suddenly aware of the stillness in the air. Of the cubicle’s intimate size. Of the instinctive urge to lean into Jake’s broad chest and rest her aching head against his shoulder.

  Which would be a huge mistake, she reminded herself.

  “You feel up to talking while we wait for the nurse?” he asked as he slid onto the gurney beside her.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, start by telling me what time you left your office.”

  “Around six.” She paused, forcing her fuzzy brain to focus. “I met a potential client for dinner.”

  “Who and where?”

  “Harold Young, at Logan’s Bistro.”

  “Did this potential client sign a contract tonight?”

  “No, Harold wants to think things over. I left Logan’s a little after eight. I drove to DeSoto’s to return the pen he’d left in my office this morning.”

  “Did Villanova know you were coming by?”

  “No. I knew he had a date tonight with a client from his match list. I didn’t expect him to be there.”

  “Did you see a car parked anywhere near his house?”

  Frowning, Nicole thought back. “No,” she said after a moment. “I was paying attention to the house numbers, so there could have been a car and I didn’t notice.”

  “What happened after you got on the porch?”

  “I put the envelope with the pen into the mailbox. That’s when the porch light went off and…whoever it was—a man, I think—rushed out the door.”

  “Why do you think it was a man?”

  “It was like smashing into a wall of muscle. And when he…hit me…” Her voice began to shake. “I stumbled sideways…fell. Hit my head. I tried to…get up. I thought… Oh, God, Jake, I thought he might…”

  He took her hand, his fingers curving firmly, gently around hers. “You’re safe now.”

  “I know.” Swallowing hard, she clenched her fingers around his, as if holding on to a lifeline. “I just don’t feel too steady.”

  “Understandable.” Jake’s eyes stayed on hers. “What could you tell about his size?”

  “He seemed big. Huge. But that could have just been because of the dark.”

  “Around the size of your friend Sebastian?”

  “It’s poss…” Her chin jutted upward. “Are you asking me if it was Sebastian?”

  “No,” Jake said evenly. “I asked if the guy was around his size.”

  “He seemed that size. And, yes, Sebastian knows DeSoto. But DeSoto wasn’t at home, so what reason would Sebastian have to be there?”

  Jake studied their joined hands. “DeSoto was at home.”

  “But the house was dark….” Nicole’s voice faltered when she saw the grimness in Jake’s eyes. “What’s happened to DeSoto?”

  “Villanova’s dead.”

  Nicole’s spine stiffened against the shock that punched through her. “No, you’re wrong.” When she tried to tug her hand away, Jake tightened his grip. “Phillip’s dead. Last night—”

  “Villanova’s dead, too. We found him inside his house. I won’t know until the M.E. does an autopsy if he was murdered, but I’m betting he was. Just like Ormiston.”

  “The man who hit me…”

  “Probably killed them both.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “DeSoto is…was a friend of Bill’s. He came to his and Whitney’s wedding.”

  “I saw Villanova there. With you. Was he your date?”

  “No, Mel escorted me to the wedding. Bill introduced me to DeSoto over a year ago. We went out a few times, but we were always just friends. Then a couple of months ago DeSoto signed a contract with Meet Your Match. He’s been a client ever since.”

  “And you don’t date your clients.”

  “That’s right, I don’t.”

  “If he was a client, how come you put one of your business cards into his coat pocket?”

  Nicole furrowed her brow, trying to remember. “DeSoto was teasing me about how I’d given my card to everybody except him. So I slid one into his pocket.”

  “I ran into Villanova this morning on my way to your office. He was getting on the elevator and he was mad. Any idea why?”

  Nicole shook her head, and instantly regretted it when a pain like an ice pick stabbed her right temple. Concentrating, she worked her way past the discomfort. “DeSoto was fine when he left.” The breath she exhaled was as unsteady as her voice. “First Phillip and now DeSoto. Jake, why?”

  “I don’t know. Yet.” His mouth tightened. “I heard you tell Mel you have a friend who’ll stay with you tonight.”

  “Kathy Key. She and her husband live next door.”

  “What about your parents? Could you stay with them?”

  “They left on a cruise two days after the wedding.”

  “I met a couple of your brothers at the reception. Surely one of them has a spare bedroom.”

  “Bill’s the only brother who lives in town.”

  “Okay. When we get to your place, I’ll drop by your friend’s apartment and tell her you won’t need her.”

  “But—”

  “I’m bunking on your couch tonight, Nicole. We’ll figure out other arrangements tomorrow.”

  “Other arrangements…” His meaning had the blood draining from her cheeks. Earlier, she’d toyed with the possibility of her attacker stepping into the cubicle, but that was all it had been—a possibility. Now it looked as if the man had killed twice in as many nights. If he thought she could identify him…

  She stared into Jake’s somber face while her insides knotted. “You think he knows who I am. That he’ll come after me. The porch was dark, but there were patches of moonlight through the clouds, so he can’t be positive I didn’t see him.” She fisted her free hand against her gowned thigh. “That’s why you stationed a cop outside.”

  “I don’t think your attacker can ID you from your encounter on the porch,” Jake said quietly. “But your car was parked in the drive. Whether he saw it—and the tag—depends on which way he ran after he
hit you.” As he spoke, Jake’s thumb swept across her knuckles. “I’m not taking chances with your safety, Nicole.”

  Fear caused acid to settle in the pit of her stomach. She knew she should combat the sensation by doing the stress-reducing breathing exercises Sebastian had taught her. Instead, all she wanted was to bury her face against Jake’s chest, burrow inside him. “Thanks.”

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “I know.” The smile she sent him didn’t gel. “You’re just doing your job.”

  “That’s the way I want things to be,” he said, his voice soft on the still air. “Need them to be.” He lifted a hand, traced a fingertip along her jaw. “That’s not the way things are.”

  Nicole sighed while undeniable longing for the man peeled away another layer of resistance.

  “No, it’s not,” she agreed.

  He wished to hell the job was all that was involved, Jake acknowledged moments later when the nurse shooed him out of the cubicle. He knew that if it were any woman other than Nicole needing protection, he would have arranged for a female officer to catch the bunk-on-the-couch assignment. But Nicole wasn’t any other woman. She was his partner’s new sister-in-law. She was the sister of the number two man in the D.A.’s office. She…

  Dammit, she mattered. And that was one hell of a problem because he didn’t want her to. Didn’t ever again want another human being to matter, not the way Annie and the twins had.

  Still, in the short time he’d known her, he’d come to care about Nicole. He wasn’t sure how much—didn’t want to know—but he did care. That alone was a huge and frightening admission, and one he was certain he couldn’t make out loud.

  Frowning, he strode down a corridor, the hospital’s sterile scent filling his lungs. He hadn’t been able to push aside thoughts of her while he’d worked the Villanova crime scene. All he could think about was how she’d looked, chalk-white and trembling, in the back of that ambulance. He of all people knew it had been pure luck that the bastard who’d killed Villanova hadn’t hung around to finish off a potential witness.

  Nicole had come close to dying tonight. Damn close. Jake wondered if the eerie sensation creeping up his spine was the devil’s own footsteps.