TEMPERATURE'S RISING

by Donna Sterling

  Could a feeling this strong be entirely one-sided?

  He couldn't imagine it. He'd felt the awesome passion in her kisses, in her lovemaking. In her gazes. Maybe all she needed was time to comprehend the magnitude of what that passion meant.

  Yet every instinct in him warned that he'd lose her if he made the wrong move. He'd already scared her during their lovemaking last night and sent her running from the dance floor this evening.

  How could he have been such a damn fool as to cause a public scene? He'd avoided her all day, fortifying his self-control for the moment he would finally talk to her. And touch her. And dance with her. He'd been determined to strike the right note of warm nonchalance.

  But then he took her in his arms and held her to his heart and lost all perspective.

  Another flare of self-directed anger increased the painful pressure in his chest. He'd made a terrible mistake by showing Tierney his hand. An unholy awareness had sparkled in the bastard's eyes.

  Jack had deprived him of a bride at his last wedding. Tierney would now take delight in depriving Jack of Callie. And he would have many opportunities to try. She worked for him; at least, until she finished this damn investigation.

  Tierney had found the perfect weapon to use against him—the woman he loved. The very fact that he had the power to interfere with their relationship at such a vulnerable stage infuriated Jack.

  He struggled with the impulse to find Callie, physically carry her aboard his boat, set course for the open seas and keep her with him until she realized she couldn't live without him.

  He supposed that might not be the smartest of strategies.

  The sound of footsteps on the dock brought him to his feet and sped up his heart. Had she come? Maybe he'd have his chance tonight. Maybe he'd make such incredible love to her that by morning, she'd never want to leave him.

  A slight, feminine figure rounded the corner. Frankie.

  She stopped on the dock beside his yacht and gazed at him in hesitant silence. "I'm sorry, Jack. Callie went back to the inn. She said to tell you she can't make it tonight, and that, uh, if you care about her at all—" she winced and finished with grave reluctance "—you won't contact her again."

  The most extraordinary pain robbed him of the capacity to answer. If he cared about her at all. Did she doubt that? And was this to be his way to prove it … by never contacting her again?

  "It sounds like she's planning to leave the Point soon," Frankie said. "Back to 'her life,' as she called it."

  Her life. The one in which he played no part. She really did mean to leave him behind.

  "Jack, I hate to sound unsympathetic, but that was some scene you caused on the dance floor. You really put her on the spot, expecting her to choose between publicly humiliating you or her business associate."

  He felt a flush rise beneath his skin, but from emotions more painful than embarrassment. He hadn't meant to force Callie into a public declaration of where her loyalties lay. But obviously he'd done just that.

  Obviously she hadn't chosen him.

  "You should be thankful that it's Callie running this investigation for Tierney," Frankie went on. "She'll look for the truth, which can only be good for you. And I'm sure she believes you're innocent of the accusation."

  Jack clenched his jaw and stared out into the star-brilliant night. No matter how Callie might affect the outcome of the lawsuit, he didn't want her involved with it. And he didn't necessarily need for her to believe he was innocent.

  He wanted her on his side, whether she thought he was right or wrong. Whether a court determined he'd made a medical mistake or not. Whether he ended up paying a fortune in damages or walking away with a clear name.

  He wanted her crazy in love with him.

  He wanted it so much he felt ready to explode.

  Although he'd never before dealt with this particular kind of pain or unrelenting emotional pressure, he knew how to regain control of himself. He simply needed time alone and plenty of personal space. The wind in his hair. The challenge of the sea.

  He managed a fair simulation of a smile and sent Frankie back to the party with his promise to cause no more scenes. He then guided his boat through the channel and into the open gulf.

  But this time, he found no distracting thrill in fighting the turbulent waves. The open air granted him no "personal space." The wind in his hair only made him colder. And the solitude only sharpened his loneliness and sense of utter loss.

  * * *

  "Withdrawing from the investigation! Are you crazy?"

  Callie winced at Meg's shout and held the phone slightly away from her ear. She'd thought about this call all night, and had imagined those exact words. She felt as if she'd heard them a dozen times. "I'm sorry, Meg, but I won't change my mind about this. I shouldn't have accepted the case in the first place."

  "Are you forgetting how much business Grant and Agnes Tierney can pump through this law firm? Their corporate work alone could mean a partnership for me. And if I'm made a partner, I will guarantee that most of our investigative needs will be channeled through your firm. It's worth finishing up with this investigation, isn't it?"

  "I've, uh, lost my objectivity."

  "Your what?"

  Callie struggled to find her voice. Somehow she'd lost that, too. The bright morning light had brought no end to her emotional turmoil. She wanted to see him again, hold him again, with a greater need than ever.

  And she fervently hoped that Grant Tierney hadn't overheard Frankie telling her about the Sharon Landers case. She couldn't bear to think about that information being used against Jack.

  "Callie, this isn't about Jack Forrester, is it?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "You've seen him? Talked to him?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "He reminded you of the good ol' days and made you feel guilty for taking the case against him, right?"

  "Not exactly. Well, maybe." Callie closed her eyes and tried to voice her thoughts in a coherent manner. "I just don't believe he was guilty of malpractice, and I want no part in destroying his good name."

  "I can't believe this! You've let him dazzle you with that killer smile of his, and now—"

  "I thought you said you barely remembered him."

  "That's about all I do remember. He really knew how to flash a girl a smile. A real ladies' man. But I thought you were impervious to that kind of thing."

  "I won't argue about this, Meg. I'm off the case."

  "You realize how the senior partners of the firm are going to take this, don't you? When I tell them that we have to hire another investigator, they'll think you're unreliable. They won't trust you with anything important. At worst, they could sue you for breach of contract. The word will spread, Callie, and you'll be lucky to get a case from any law firm in town."

  "Then maybe I'll finish law school and give you attorneys a run for your money."

  "I thought you gave up on a law degree."

  "No, I just got too busy trying to earn a living."

  "A living is a wonderful thing," Meg reminded her. "Can you at least turn over whatever you've found on the case?"

  "No."

  "No?" she repeated in surprise. An awkward silence stretched between them. When she spoke again, her voice sounded hesitant and concerned. "Callie, you're not seriously falling in love with him or anything, are you?"

  She couldn't bring herself to answer.

  "Callie?" When she received no reply, Meg exhaled a long, hard breath. "I hope you're not setting yourself up for heartbreak. I mean, I'd be thrilled if you found a good man to share your life with, but I don't remember Jack Forrester as the stable, dependable type. And in this situation, it's clearly to his advantage to manipulate your emotions."

  "Don't worry about me, Meg," Callie said, trying for a reassuring tone. "I'm almost over him already. I'm coming home today, and probably won't see him again for years, if ever." The ache grew too intense at the thought.

  How had she fallen so
hard for him? Had she succumbed to something as shallow as his charm? Maybe.

  But she couldn't stop thinking about all she had shared with him—the passion, the laughter, the fun. The history. The tenderness.

  She wouldn't hurt him by pursuing this investigation. She'd rather hurt herself. Which meant she'd better hit the road and never look back.

  "Okay, Sis," Meg relented, "you're officially off the case. But would you mind stopping by the Tierneys' house and smoothing things over for me? I know Agnes will be disappointed. After your first meeting with her, she called me and told me how much she liked you. And Grant won't appreciate the delay. Tell them that some emergency came up."

  "I won't lie, Meg. But I will apologize, and assure them that whoever you hire to replace me will do a much better job."

  "Thanks. And Callie, if you need me, just call. I can be there in a flash, okay?"

  After repeating vague reassurances, Callie murmured goodbye and called the Tierneys. Agnes answered, and Callie asked if she could drop by for a visit. Delighted with the prospect of company, Agnes invited her over for a light brunch.

  Callie packed her luggage and carried her suitcases to the car. But as she went to unlock the door, which she swore she had locked last night, she found it open. And when she glanced on the front floorboard, she saw that her briefcase was missing.

  Someone had stolen her briefcase … along with all the "dirt" she'd gathered against Jack Forrester.

  * * *

  10

  « ^

  Callie reported the theft to the deputy on duty at the sheriff's office that Sunday morning, but she held out little hope of having the briefcase found. The thief had left other valuables behind, including her cell phone and Meg's expensive CD player. Whoever had taken the briefcase had wanted only its contents. Who?

  A misguided friend of Jack's, she supposed. Someone in the community determined to save him from an unjust charge. Surely not one of the friends they had in common. Jimbo, Robbie, Frankie or any of the Forresters would never steal from her.

  Thoroughly sick of this case and all its disturbing questions, Callie was glad she'd quit. Glad that she'd be leaving. She wore jeans and a soft, butter-yellow T-shirt instead of business clothes for brunch at the Tierneys. She intended to be comfortable during her drive to Tallahassee, as well as get the point across to Grant that her business with him had been concluded.

  Agnes met her at the door with a smile, her flowing teal gown wafting around her. "I didn't have the chance to share my good news with you yesterday. Bob and I are getting married!"

  "Oh, Agnes, that's wonderful." Callie hugged her, happy that she would have a man in her life other than Grant.

  "My, don't you look pretty. You have such a nice figure, dear. You should wear jeans more often. I don't believe I've ever seen you in them before."

  Callie had to smile. She'd spent her entire childhood in jeans. She supposed she'd come full circle.

  Agnes peered closely into her face. "I see you smiling, but I sense you're feeling down. You're having man problems, aren't you? I can always tell."

  "No!" Callie forced a little laugh. "No man problems. If I seem a little down, it's only because I have some news to break that you might not like."

  "You're not leaving the Point, are you?"

  "Actually, yes."

  "But you've hardly had time to get to know Grant! I understand he arrived at the picnic quite late. Long after Bob and I had already left."

  "Grant is here, isn't he?"

  "Yes. He'll meet us in the solarium. But first, come with me." She hooked her arm around Callie's and ushered her into a plush bedroom decorated in tapestries and silk screens. "When you're having man problems, sometimes you need the right scent."

  Agnes selected an ornate, emerald-green bottle from the top of her dresser. "This musk worked wonders on Bob. It magnifies a woman's natural pheromones. If a man is meant to notice you, he won't be able to resist you." With a dramatic flair, she uncorked the bottle. A musty, herbal smell permeated the room.

  When she tipped the bottle to catch some in her hand, though, nothing came out.

  Agnes frowned and stared into the bottle. "That's odd. I only used it once, and now it's gone!"

  Callie murmured her thanks for the kind intention, hiding her relief that she wouldn't have to wear the musk. The scent was too cloying for her taste. Besides, she had no desire to magnify her pheromones. Her only "man problems" involved a soul-deep ache at leaving a certain golden-haired doctor behind.

  Agnes, however, apparently meant to make a last-ditch effort at matching her up with Grant. After ushering Callie to the solarium, where wide, sunny windows overlooked the sea and lush plants thrived in every corner, she gestured to a table set for two with ruby-and-gold china, crystal goblets and a bottle of wine. "Dandelion wine," Agnes informed her. "I made it myself. I bring out a bottle now and then for special occasions."

  "Agnes, why are there only two place settings?"

  "I've already eaten. And I have friends to call about my engagement. I won't be able to join you and Grant."

  "Ah, the lovely Miss Callie Marshall. Good morning."

  Grant strolled into the solarium wearing a light blue oxford shirt that accentuated the startling azure of his eyes. He pulled out a chair for her and she reluctantly sat. "I hope you're well rested after all that dancing last night."

  Callie's cheeks warmed as she remembered the awkward scene on the dance floor.

  "Oh, did you two dance together?" inquired Agnes, her mauve brows arching into two happy question marks.

  "No. Someday, hopefully." Grant settled into his chair and held her gaze with a fair emulation of sensual warmth.

  She thought she might be sick. Deciding to get down to business before he could utter more nonsense, she said, "I wanted to tell you both that I'm withdrawing from the investigation."

  "Withdrawing?" Agnes cried. "But why?"

  "I'm afraid that my personal relationships with people in the community have made it difficult for me to run the investigation. I grew up on the Point. I believe you'll be better served by an investigator who didn't."

  "Mother," Grant said in his silky-smooth voice, "don't you have phone calls to make?" Agnes murmured in agreement and gracefully glided from the room. Grant then smiled at Callie, uncorked the bottle of wine and filled her glass with a pale, flowery-scented liquid. "He got to you, didn't he?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Forrester is a smooth operator when it comes to women."

  Callie ignored the wine he'd poured for her and concentrated on concealing her resentment and pain. "Funny. He says the same about you."

  "He would. He's never forgiven me for marrying his sister. Never thought I was good enough. He did everything he could to break up our marriage, and he finally succeeded."

  She certainly hadn't heard that version of it.

  Grant handed her a plate of chicken salad sandwiches, and after she'd taken one, he helped himself to a few. "Forrester then made it a point to intrude into every relationship of mine that he could. He stole my fiancé away from me. Did he tell you that? I believe he's quite proud of it. He didn't really want her for himself, of course. Lost interest in her as soon as I did." Grant shrugged. "It's an obsession with him, this need to … foil me. And he doesn't care whom he has to use to do it." He spooned melon balls onto his plate. "That includes you."

  Although she'd been tormented by the suspicion that Jack's determination to "foil" Grant had motivated his pursuit of her—whether Jack consciously realized it or not—she didn't like hearing Grant say it. "It's really a moot point. I'm withdrawing from the case and leaving the Point today."

  "I'd prefer you didn't withdraw from the case."

  "Meg will hire another investigator who will do a much better job."

  "Do you intend to submit your findings to Meg?"

  For the moment, she felt almost glad that her briefcase had been stolen. "I'm sorry. That's impossible. Someone t
ook my briefcase from my car last night. It contained all my research."

  Grant frowned and narrowed his eyes at her.

  "I hadn't found anything pertinent to the case, anyway."

  "You realize who was behind the theft, don't you?"

  She knew, of course, whom he meant.

  "Answer that question as an investigator, Ms. Marshall—not as a woman who's been dazzled by a master manipulator."

  Squaring her jaw in an attempt to rein in her rising temper, she reminded herself that she'd come here at Meg's request, to smooth things over. "If you're trying to blame Dr. Forrester, you'll need proof, or you may be opening yourself up to slander charges, or defamation of character."

  "You know damn well he took it, or had someone take it."

  "Someone may have stolen it in a misguided attempt to help him, but I'm sure that Dr. Forrester had nothing to do with it."

  Grant let out a short, brutal laugh. "He got to you more than I thought he did." He sat back in his chair and inclined his head. "You know, I have considerable influence in the business world. I can help your career—and your sister's—beyond your wildest dreams." The calculation in his gaze sent a shiver down her back. "And I can destroy them both, too."

  Oh Meg, I'm so sorry! She'd done her sister's cause more harm than good with her visit. "That's not a threat, is it?"

  "Of course not. Just a fact." He leaned forward and handed her another tray. "Dewberry muffin?"

  The doorbell chimed.

  Grant called out, "Will you answer the door, Mother? And lead our guest in here to join us, please."

  A terrible foreboding curled through Callie. "Guest?"

  Grant broke open a muffin and buttered it. "I believe we may be able to settle this lawsuit right now."

  Agnes's warm greeting rang from the other room, followed by a man's terse reply. Callie recognized the voice. Jack's.

  "Amazing how quickly he accepted my invitation," Grant remarked, setting his buttered muffin halves aside. "All I had to do was call and say that I, uh, had you here." He held up his wineglass in a toast. "I do find you to be an invaluable asset."