“See? We’re gaining on it.”
He’d been taking in the room, the knotty pine boards on the walls, the wildlife prints, the rustic-looking dresser. But his gaze fell on her again when she went quiet, and he caught her staring pretty intensely at his chest.
She jerked her attention elsewhere as soon as she realized she’d been caught, but it was too late and she knew it.
It wasn’t going to be easy to hold back, not if she wanted him as badly as she seemed to. And he hadn’t decided that he would even try. He’d just have to be blunt with her about what it was. And what it wasn’t. Her earlier comment that this thing between them was inevitable, that she’d felt it from the moment she’d seen him and that kind of romantic bullshit had him almost as worried as the idea that she might be trying to kill him.
And he supposed he’d have to be careful to make sure there were no sharp objects near the bed she might use to impale him.
“There are cots,” he said, nodding at the folded and stacked pieces in the corner. “I’ll take one of those for the night. Let you have the bed.”
“I’m not the one with the stab wound in my belly.”
“No, you’re not. But I’m the guy.”
She let her gaze slide down his chest. “Can’t argue with you there.”
“Didn’t think you would.” He got up then, crossed the room to take a cot from the folded stack, unfolded the thing and set it up on the floor near the bed, on the side nearest the door. His belly hurt, but not terribly. Bad enough that he might have winced once or twice, had there not been a gorgeous woman in the room.
She was taking blankets from a nearby chest and stacking them on the cot for him. She’d found a pillow, too. “There should be clothes in the dresser,” she said. “Pajamas.”
“I sleep in my—” He broke off there, thinking hard, trying to remember what he wore to bed, but there was only a big black hole.
“Oh, come on. Finish it,” she said. “You sleep in your….”
“I think I was going to say shorts, but uh, I lost it.”
“You stopped to think and chased it away. You need to work on shutting up your inner censor.”
“Easier said than done. But I do agree with your point.”
“So we’ll work on it.”
He nodded, arranged the blankets and pillow on his cot, and then, left with nothing much more to do, reached for the button of his jeans.
Her sharp, interested eyes followed his every movement. The way they flickered when focused on his lower abs and button fly let him know what she wanted. Why she was fighting it so hard, he didn’t know. But he supposed he could wait, as long as he could keep her from getting too sappy about the whole thing.
He unbuttoned. He unzipped. Slow. Teasing her.
She licked her lips, then turned her head away. “I’m going to go get ready for bed.”
“Okay.”
“Be right back.”
“Sure.”
After that she left the room. He heard her moving around in the other room. Knew she was going through her backpack, probably finding whatever she’d brought to sleep in and putting it on. Or maybe locating some hidden weapon to use on him later. He heard the pump handle squeaking as she drew water, heard her brushing her teeth.
He managed to school his attention back to his own needs, but not without a hell of an effort. He zipped his jeans up again, put his borrowed shirt back on.
When he walked into the living room, she was wearing what she’d brought to sleep in: a ribbed pink tank top with a nightcap-clad teddy bear on the front, and a pair of very short pink shorts to match. The top didn’t come down all the way to the bottoms, which snugged around her hips pretty low, leaving her middle enticingly bare. He tried telling himself he’d seen her wearing far less, but that didn’t reduce the reaction any. And the silver ring in her belly button just about made him moan out loud. Damn, the woman was hot.
Long legs, unclothed. Bare feet that made him want to make her cute little toes curl up in sheer, unrestrained pleasure. He couldn’t remember having sex before, but he knew he had, and he knew he liked it. He kind of had the feeling it was something he did well. Something he was good at. And he hoped that wasn’t a bad case of wishful thinking. He couldn’t wait to find out.
It took him a full minute even to notice that she’d pulled her silvery-blond angel’s hair back into a ponytail and smeared some kind of white goop on her face.
He met her eyes. They peered out at him from that goop-covered face, and he grinned at her. “What is that, some kind of Witch’s potion? The secret to eternal youth and beauty?”
“Yeah. It’s made of toadstools, eye of newt and the testicles of a righteous man.”
He lifted his brows, only half sure she was kidding.
“It’s a soy-based moisturizing lotion with oatmeal, Cory. I bought it at Body-Bliss.” She held up the bottle so he could see it clearly, then set it down and took up the washcloth she’d been holding, and gently washed most of the stuff away.
When she’d finished, a little dot of white remained on her cheek, and he reached up to press his fingertips there, a very slight caress. “Missed a spot,” he said, letting his touch linger. She closed her eyes, and he doubted it was voluntary, but seeing it, that much of a physical, sensory reaction to so slight a touch, made him aware of how responsive she would be to other, more intimate contact.
He moved just a little closer, felt her breath stuttering out of her mouth, and touching his, and then he lost his nerve and backed away, let his hand fall to his side, regretting it with every cell in his body. “I’m heading to the outhouse. Be right back.”
She opened her eyes, and it seemed to take her an extra heartbeat to get her mind focused. “Right. Um, wait a sec. I have something you need.”
Did she ever. He almost said it out loud, and decided against it even as she turned to rummage in her backpack. She pulled out a toothbrush, brand-new and still in its cellophane wrapper, and a tiny tube of toothpaste.
He took them. “Is this a hint that my breath is bad?”
“I haven’t been close enough to know,” she said.
“More’s the pity.” Damn, he should have censored that remark as well.
But she didn’t react badly. In fact, she sent him a teasing smile with a twinkle in her eyes that said she agreed. “I buy them all the time, stick them here and there. Every bag, purse, backpack and suitcase I own probably has a new toothbrush lurking around in it somewhere. Pays to be prepared.”
“You’d have made a great Boy Scout.”
“Except that I’m a girl.”
“I noticed.” He held up the toothbrush. “Thanks, Selene. Go to bed. I’ll be along soon.”
“Okay.”
He watched her all the way into the bedroom, then he shook his head slowly. Damn, he hoped she wasn’t planning to try to kill him. At least, not with a knife.
Chapter 6
Chief Wheatly sat on the big sofa, mostly ignoring the mug of coffee Vidalia had insisted someone bring him, while other officers, Jimmy Corona and his long-time partner, fellow former Chicago cop Colby Benton among them, were upstairs, doing whatever it was cops did in cases like this. Vidalia didn’t want or need to know any details. She trusted Jimmy. And Colby as well.
“And you’re sure you don’t know where Selene went?” the chief asked for the third time.
“Earl, you saw the note, same as I did. It didn’t say where she went. Only that she wasn’t leaving town and would call.”
“And you believe that?” he asked.
Vidalia, who had been rocking in her favorite rocking chair at an agitated pace up until then, stopped rocking and lowered the ice pack from the back of her head to send him her patented Vi Brand death glare. “My daughter doesn’t lie, Earl.”
“Up until a day ago you didn’t think she practiced Witchcraft either, Vi.”
She turned the glare up a notch. He lowered his gaze. Maya came in from the kitchen with a cup
of steaming tea, and Vi accepted it and resumed rocking. “You should be home with the twins,” she muttered.
Maya sighed. “Kara’s up there. They’re fine.”
“Still and all—” Vidalia stopped there as her son-in-law the cop—Kara’s husband Jimmy—and her son-in-law the lawyer—Maya’s husband, Caleb—came down the stairs, with Colby Benton close behind them. She sat up straighter in her chair. “Well? You find any clues up there?”
Jim said, “We lifted some prints, but they’re probably not the intruder’s.”
“I told you, he was wearing gloves,” she said.
“We had to check all the same, Vi.” Jim glanced at Caleb and Colby. “I couldn’t tell for sure if anything was missing, but I don’t think so. It’s more like the guy was looking for something specific.”
The chief was on his feet now. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Why?” Vidalia said. “What do you think? Do you think this is connected to that stranger being stabbed out at the falls, Earl?”
Earl Wheatly averted his gaze, which told Vi a lot more than his words did. “We can’t be sure of that. But it’s a possibility we ought to consider.”
“Chief, we checked the outgoing calls log on Selene’s phone. I’ve got the last number she dialed, about nine-thirty. It was to Tessa Monro.”
“She’s a friend of Selene’s,” Vidalia said.
The chief lifted his brows. “You know her, Vi?”
“Sure, as well as I know any of Selene’s friends.”
“And how well is that?”
She shrugged. “Nice girl, married to a nice young man name of Chet. Oh, such a sweet young pair. Just married last year. Selene was maid of honor at their wedding, matter of fact.”
“I know her, slightly,” Maya put in. “I agree with Mom, she’s sweet.”
“Any chance she’s a Witch?”
Both women frowned at him.
“Well, it fits. After their little party busted up and Selene refused to tell us who all was out there with her, the first person she calls is this Tessa. Seems like she might have been involved.”
“At the very least, she might know where Selene is hiding out,” Jimmy said.
Nodding, the chief said, “Get an address and then take a run over there, Corona. See if she’ll talk to you. And take Benton with you to get the husband out of earshot. If she is one of these Wicca types, she might be as secretive about it as Selene was.”
Jimmy nodded, grabbed Colby and headed to the car.
Vidalia was still rocking, still holding an ice pack to the back of her head. But then she stopped all at once, and lifted her eyes to the chief’s. “Earl, if this break-in is connected to that stabbing, then…that means it was the killer who was in my house tonight, doesn’t it?”
“He’s not a killer, Vi. That stranger didn’t die and he’s not going to.”
“Well it wasn’t Selene who broke in here, tonight. And it wasn’t the stranger himself—he’s in a hospital bed. So it would stand to reason—”
“Look, Vi, there’s no reason to jump to conclusions here. We’ll get to the bottom of this soon enough.”
“Why would the killer come here? Why would he be going through Selene’s room? How would he even know which room was hers?”
“The Samantha Stevens Bewitched poster on her wall might have been a clue,” Maya muttered. But then she frowned at her husband. “But Mom has a point. What would that guy want here? What was he looking for?”
Caleb and the chief exchanged a quick look, and Vi knew they had notions, but they weren’t about to share them.
“You don’t have to tell me, boys. I’m not an idiot. If that killer came here, he was looking for witnesses to what he did to that stranger last night. And that means my daughter is in danger.”
“We can’t be sure of that, Vidalia,” Caleb said softly.
But Vi wasn’t listening. She got to her feet, and paced the room. “Selene likely brought all of this trouble on herself by tempting the devil the way she’s been doing. Dabbling in Witchcraft of all things!”
“Mom—” Maya said.
“But that doesn’t matter. My girl is in trouble, and you all know full well I’ll stand against anyone—against Lucifer himself—to protect her.”
“That’s good, Mom. And I don’t doubt it. Now I have just one question,” Maya said.
“What’s that, daughter?”
“You’d stand against the devil himself for Selene. But would you do something a whole lot easier? Like read a skinny little eighty-page book?” She held the book out to Vidalia as she spoke. The one Selene had left on the kitchen table with her note. “It would take you all of a half hour, I’ll bet. Is she worth that much to you?”
Jimmy Corona and Colby Benton pulled into the driveway of the small Cape Cod home of Chet and Tessa Monro. It rested at the edge of town, and the lights were all turned off. Two vehicles rested in the driveway. They pulled their cruiser up alongside the curb and shut it off, then walked in tandem to the front door. Jimmy glanced around as they went. It was still dark outside, and they were probably going to startle the hell out of the young couple, showing up in the wee hours like this. But it had to be done.
They were almost to the door when they stopped short, startled by the sound of a telephone ringing inside. Then they glanced at each other, grinned and shook their heads. “That thing is louder than a fire alarm,” Colby said.
“Hey, at least we don’t have to be the ones to wake them up.”
Colby nodded, and they moved along the sidewalk closer to the front door. But the phone was still ringing when they got there. No one had answered it.
“Who could sleep through that?” Colby asked.
Jimmy frowned at his best friend, looked at the door, saw the pry marks along the side. “No one, pal.” He nudged the door with his foot, and it swung open without resistance. “Damn.” He drew his sidearm and flashlight.
Colby did the same. They entered the house, guns ready, Jimmy going right, Colby left.
“Tessa? Chet?” Jimmy called. “Anyone here?”
No answer. The telephone stopped ringing—the caller had obviously given up. Jimmy made a mental note to check the call ID to see who it was later. He smelled something on the air, glanced at his partner to see if he smelled it, too, but Colby had his back to him, moving carefully through the house.
He slid along the hallway to where the bedrooms would be. Colby checked out the bathroom, and Jimmy moved farther, opened a door just as his brain identified the smells in the air. Gunpowder. And blood. Stronger here.
The bedroom door stood open, and he pushed it further, going in, light and gun first.
They lay in the bed, side by side, looking for all the world as if they were just sleeping. Except for the bullet holes in the blankets over their chests, and the blood dripping steadily from the mattress to the carpet below.
“Colby,” Jimmy called. “In here.”
Colby appeared in the doorway, a stack of books in his hands. He eyed the dead couple, swore under his breath.
“What’s that you’ve got?” Jimmy asked.
“Found them in a woman’s handbag, on a rack in the bathroom.” He held them up. The books were on Witchcraft. “Looks like the chief was right. Tessa Monro was probably at the falls with Selene when it all went down.”
Jimmy felt his heart go cold. If Selene had been home when the killer had been in her room, it could have been her found with a bullet hole in her head. He suppressed a shiver, and whispered, “We’ve gotta find my sister-in-law.”
Selene lay in the bed, stiff and nervous and waiting for Cory to come back inside. It was silly to be this nervous. Not only because she had already decided not to let anything happen between them tonight. But above and beyond that was the fact that he was her soul mate. He was the man she was destined to love. So what was there to be nervous about?
And come to think of it, why wait at all? Why not just tug him into this bed with her wh
en he came back inside and let nature take its course?
Because of his injury, she reminded herself.
His voice in her brain whispered, a minor injury. A few stitches, no big deal.
And she could be gentle with him. All she had to do was wait for him to come in, and peel back her covers, beckon him with a crook of her finger or maybe pat the empty spot in the bed beside her. And when he came to her, as he would, she could undo those jeans and push them down over his hips and she could finally see the rest of him, the parts she’d been fantasizing about all day. He would step out of the jeans, shrug off the borrowed shirt, lower himself into the bed beside her. She could just imagine the way it would feel to press her body tight to his as she ran her hands over his arms and shoulders, and that magnificent back.
She would kiss his neck, and his entire chest. She wanted to do that, just press her lips to every single place on his chest. She would push him down onto his back, to keep him still, so he wouldn’t put any strain on the wound. And that way she could rain kisses on his belly, too. And maybe while he was lying there, she would have the courage to move her lips a little lower, explore things she had never ever tried before. She wondered what his shape was, his size, and found herself curious and longing. Would he be hard already, or would she need to encourage things to get him to that point?
She wouldn’t need any encouragement of that sort. She was wet and ready just from thinking about him. If only she could have him tonight.
When she had teased him long enough she would gently ease herself over him, straddle his body. He would lie still, and let her take him inside, and she would move over him, up and down him, taking him deeper every time. And harder. And faster, until…
“I’m back.”
She opened her eyes and her mouth at the same time, made a sound that probably sounded startled and a little breathless. She was lying in the bed with her knees drawn up, and he was standing there in his jeans, the shirt unbuttoned and hanging open.
Do it, her mind told her. Do it, just reach up there and grab his hand and tug him closer.
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