by Trout, Linda
Sara shrieked at a tap on the car window. She sucked in a ragged breath as Morgan bent close to the glass.
“You gonna sit there all night or are you going in?” He stepped back from the door, giving her room.
“Oh, yes. Sorry.” She pulled the oversized purse to her chest, giving it and the stuffed rabbit inside, a brief squeeze. She knew the rabbit was a crutch, but was unable to leave it behind. Regardless of all outward appearances, she was unsure of herself.
Despite the fact Morgan had seen her wrestling with a drunk and had taken her out to eat, she still felt compelled to maintain a composed demeanor. Or a semblance thereof. Even if it took every ounce of energy, because walking into her house after dark and with no lights on was more than a little unnerving. At least it was after the recent strange occurrences. It was all she could do to keep from checking into a hotel. No. She’d handle staying alone in her own home, one way or the other. Maybe those sleeping pills wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Just for a night or two.
Sara stepped out of the car, striding up the walkway, quivering inside yet grateful Morgan walked her to the door. She took a deep breath and prayed he didn’t see her trembling hands as she unlocked the door, unsure of exactly what she’d find once she entered the house. She plastered her best smile in place and turned to him. “Care to come in for some coffee?” Please, please, please.
He looked toward the dark interior. “You didn’t leave any lights on.”
He hadn’t answered her question. She lifted her chin defiantly. “I didn’t think I’d be out after dark. If you don’t have time, it’s quite all right.” She hated that her voice quivered a little on the last word.
“You think someone might be in there?”
“No, of course not. I…”
He drew his eyebrows together a moment as his gaze swept the outside of the building. “You stay here. I’ll check it out.” He turned toward the front door.
“I don’t think so!” Sara didn’t know what was worse, going into the darkened structure alone or staying outside where the darkness was only held at bay by the sensor generated lights.
He nodded slightly, his demeanor having changed from the person who’d laughed and joked during dinner to the cold yet competent investigator.
Her protector.
She didn’t want to think of him that way. She’d stood on her own over the last months and didn’t want to need anyone. It was a matter of personal pride she’d held herself together without pills—though the counseling had been God sent. However, the darkened house scared her all the way to her toes.
Morgan moved around her and with one hand gently pushed the door open as he tucked her behind him with the other.
That one small protective movement settled over her like a cozy shawl. She wanted to throw her arms around him and thank him. She wanted to tell him it was all right, there was no need now. She didn’t say a word. Instead, she moved quietly behind him like a shadow as he went from room to room while he flipped on lights, her hand placed on the small of his back to maintain a connection. Nor did she protest his taking these precautions. He didn’t find anything, so she knew she’d be safe.
Hopefully.
If only things would quit moving themselves while she slept. And faces of her dead husband would stop floating outside the window.
Embarrassed at being so skittish, once they’d gone through the house, she walked Morgan to the door. “Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem.” He studied her face more intently. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
His presence sucked the air out of the room as his body invaded her space. He was too close. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Right now she was anything but all right. Drowning in the dark depths of his eyes, her pulse fluttered, and her breathing became shallow. Heat pooled in the lower regions of her body. He must have sensed her feelings as desire flared in his eyes. Without warning, he closed the remaining distance between them.
He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her against him, leaving no question as to his desire. Without hesitation, he captured her lips in a hard kiss. Shocked, she stood stiffly at first, then relaxed and gave herself over to the sensations flooding her. Slowly he softened the kiss, teasing her lips apart. As their tongues dueled, she inched closer to him, pressed her body to his.
The warmth and power of being in his embrace chased away the darkness, fear and loneliness of the previous months. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she returned the kiss with a fervor she hadn’t expected. It had been so long since she’d felt desirable—wanted. She needed this, could drown in his arms, in his mind-blowing kiss.
Too soon he pulled back, laying his forehead against hers. She groaned in protest even as she sucked oxygen into her lungs. His own breath sawed in and out.
When he skimmed a finger down the side of her face, across her swollen lips, then down her throat, she thought he’d undo the buttons on her blouse. Instead, he lifted one side of his mouth a moment, blew out a breath, then stepped back.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he finally managed to say. “It was unprofessional.”
Please don’t stop, she wanted to scream. The only thing she could muster was a weak smile. If it weren’t for his still ragged breathing and the bulge in his pants, she would’ve thought the kiss had meant nothing to him. Knowing it had taken him by surprise bolstered her spirits.
“You have no idea how much I needed that. It has been so long since…” She refused to divulge how long it had been since she’d been kissed as if she were the most desirable woman on the planet. Before his look of want turned into a look of pity, she said, “Thank you for…for everything.”
“Sara, I—”
Quickly she placed her fingers on his lips. Partly to keep him from saying something she didn’t want to hear, partly to touch those wonderful lips of his again.
“Good night, Morgan.” She opened the door, waited as he finally took the none-too-subtle hint, then turned and walked away.
Not wanting to see the questions in his eyes if he happened to look back, she quickly closed the door. It had only been six months since Jason’s death, yet here she was, wanting to throw herself at another man. Guilt slammed into her. If she dreamed tonight, would it be of the man she’d married and still mourned? Or the man, who in a few short minutes, had touched and awakened her battered soul?
****
It had been days, but Morgan still couldn’t get that kiss out of his mind. He hadn’t been prepared for the avalanche of shock waves that hit him when she’d melted in his arms. The fact he’d thrown all his principles out the window in one massive rush of lust didn’t dim the overpowering need to taste her. If she hadn’t looked so vulnerable yet inviting at the same time, maybe he would’ve kept control of the greedy desire to make her his, to see what kind of heaven she offered.
The urge to drag her to the floor and take her right there had nearly knocked the wind out of him. Luckily he’d stopped himself before it had gone too far. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night, though, as memories of her body pressed enticingly to his kept flashing in his brain. She’d fit perfectly in his arms. When he’d touched the top button on her blouse, his instinct had been to pop it open. To watch as inch by inch, button by button, he exposed her creamy skin, then caress the softness she offered. The one sampling of her sweetness hadn’t been enough. His body wanted more.
Damn it. Stop acting like some horny teenager.
Sara Adams was a suspect, which made her off-limits. Period. He swore to himself he wouldn’t cross that line again. Remaining detached and focused on the case had to be his primary goal. Damn if it wasn’t one of the hardest things he had to do. No, he had to put how Sara’s body felt out of his mind, even if his own body had a more immediate, and painful, reaction to just thinking about her.
He swallowed the last bite of the greasy hamburger he’d picked up for lunch, crumpled the paper and dropped it in the trashcan. As he swiveled in hi
s office chair, movement outside the window caught his attention. A familiar white Lexus slowly circled the parking lot before pulling into a space in front of his office. He smiled. The uptown lady had come downtown, so to speak.
There wasn’t anything wrong with the little shopping center; it’d just been neglected too long is all. His office was tucked between Susie Q’s Tanning Salon and Marcy’s Needlepoint Shop. Morgan hoped Marcy would expand and take up the empty space on the other side of her. The seedy billiards parlor on the far end was the one business that detracted from the overall appearance.
Except for a few vacant storefronts, one of the things that had attracted him to the shopping center had been its unpretentiousness. Having an office here was almost like being invisible. A large number of his clients didn’t want to be spotted by their friends visiting a private investigator, so this was a perfect location.
Sara still sat behind the wheel. Forgetting the folder on his desk, he watched and waited. Despite the hell she must be going through, she still kept her feet on the ground. However, underneath her prim and proper exterior, there was something else going on. He just wasn’t sure what. She’d been awfully skittish when they’d walked into her dark house. Well, until he’d kissed her. Then the woman came alive.
Finally the car door opened, and she stepped out. She wore low heels, a knee length skirt, and had incredible legs. Too bad she didn’t wear skirts more often. His gaze traveled up the suit, appreciating the still loose but snugger fit, a vast improvement over the baggy clothes she’d previously worn.
She glanced at something in her hand, probably his business card, then back at the building. She took a deep breath and raised her chin, which he’d learned meant she didn’t like what she was going to do but would do it anyway. She closed the car door and practically marched to his office, albeit stiffly. Because of her cut up knees, he suspected. She never ceased to surprise him.
He rose, leaving his suit jacket on the coat rack beside the door, and headed to the outer office. He could already hear Charlene’s cheery voice greeting Sara. Charlene treated everyone the same, regardless of their walks of life. Which was one of the reasons he’d hired the woman. Well, that and because she wouldn’t take no for an answer when she’d applied for a position. From then on, she’d simply taken charge as if she owned the place. He grinned at the memory.
He stopped and peered around the partially open hallway door where he could see the two women, yet out of their sight. He was curious as to why Sara Adams had brought herself to his side of town.
“—the best coffee in town. I grind it myself, so I should know,” Charlene said.
She was five-feet-ten and rock solid—sturdy, some people would have said—yet her voice held an innocent quality that put people instantly at ease. That was another reason she was so good.
“No, thank you, I’m fine.” Sara smiled back at Charlene and at the same time shifted her gaze around the office. “This is very nice. I wasn’t expecting it to be so…”
Charlene barked a laugh. “Yeah. Fools ya, don’t it? Especially for a strip mall. Took a bit of doin’ but I think we pulled it off fairly well. At least you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t.” She gestured toward the silk plant in the ceramic pot, the results of a dumpster diving expedition.
Sara’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled—a genuine smile and not one of those tight forced ones he’d seen her give far too often. Her faced softened, and she seemed younger. “The office looks very nice.”
“Thanks. Morgan couldn’t have done it without me.” She leaned forward and whispered loudly, as if she didn’t know he was standing on the other side of the door listening. “Do me a favor and don’t tell him that. He thinks everything was his idea.”
He’d agree he couldn’t have decorated the place without her. She had slowly but surely made the small office space, if not elegant, then about as close as you could get. In fact, he’d stack it up against the best upscale offices in town. Charlene believed the first impression was the best, so she’d made sure the furnishings were good, even if they were mostly second hand. If any of the furniture had been scratched, she had either buffed it out, placed a plant over it, or positioned the piece where the scratch didn’t show. The woman was a whiz. He’d give her a raise, except knowing her, she’d probably already done it.
“Is Mr. Daniels in?” Sara’s face returned to the taut expression she’d had when she’d walked in the door.
If she didn’t want to be here, why had she come?
Charlene raised her eyebrows and turned her head in the direction of the hallway without taking her eyes off Sara. She leaned across her desk and whispered loudly again, “Yes. I believe he’s available. I’m sure he’ll be out in a minute.”
“Do you need to let him know I’m here?”
“Oh, he knows. You can count on it.”
Morgan shook his head. There was never a dull moment in the office. “I’ll take it from here, Charlene. Thank you,” he said when he stepped from behind the door and into the lobby.
The woman snorted.
At the sound of his voice, Sara jerked as if she’d been shot. “You do have a tendency to sneak up on people, don’t you, Mr. Daniels?”
“I thought we’d gotten past the formalities. It’s Morgan. Remember?” What happened to the casual tone they’d shared the night he’d taken her to dinner? And the way she’d held onto him while he searched her house? Damn it. What about the kiss she couldn’t seem to get enough of? Why was she so standoffish?
“Which is one of the things that make him so good,” Charlene interjected. “He’s a sneaky son-of-a-gun.”
“Sure don’t get much past you, though,” he muttered.
She’d already turned her attention back to her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. “No. And you won’t, either. Which is one of the things that make me so good, boss man.”
Morgan sighed. One of these days, he’d learn he could never win with that woman. “Come on back,” he said to Sara. He led her to his office, which was furnished as well as the reception area. Except for the picture of a woman from the 1940’s, wearing a skirt and sitting on a motorcycle as she lit a cigarette. He liked the sassy broad, refusing to get rid of it despite Charlene’s insistence it totally detracted from the rest of the décor.
He offered Sara a chair across from his desk as he closed the door between them and the big ears of his receptionist, then took his own seat. Not for the first time, he was glad Charlene had found the mahogany desk and leather chairs at a company moving out of town and needing to liquidate their furnishings. Kept his office from looking like a gum-shoe operated out of it.
“How are you—”
“I wanted—”
They both spoke at the same time. An almost uncomfortable silence followed.
It’d been several days since he’d seen her, and he couldn’t help but notice the circles under her eyes were getting darker. Was she not sleeping well? It would be understandable with all that was going on in her life right now. People handled stress differently, and he was certainly in no position to judge how someone else dealt with a crisis. Right now, his anger and self-loathing was what kept him going. “Ladies first,” he said at last.
She threw him a timid grin. “I enjoyed dinner the other night. It was a very…unusual experience.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. I was hoping you wouldn’t be put off by Slim’s atmosphere. Not everyone is comfortable there.”
“I can see why. It is rather, um, different. The food was delicious, though. As promised.”
He chuckled, the sound almost rusty, as if he didn’t do it much. Which he hadn’t. Not lately anyway. Not since Andy’s death.
She paused, almost—but not quite—fidgeting in the chair. “I also appreciate your checking the house for me after we got home.”
After we got home. That had a nice ring to it. He wouldn’t mind having someone like her to go home to every night. To greet him at the door of a nice
little ranch style house, with a kid or two running around. To be able to share his day and hear about hers. Someone to wake up with every morning and know you were her world.
But not her. Sara Adams was still in the running as a murder suspect as far as he was concerned. But damn if she wasn’t sexy as hell and not even trying. “No problem.”
“I—I just wanted you to know I’m not normally that spooked. It’s just since, well, for the last couple days I’ve been having, um…”
He leaned forward slightly, remembering that blood curdling scream she never fully explained and her reluctance to walk into her home alone. Surely that hadn’t been the first time she’d gone home alone when there weren’t any lights on. Had she been as scared then as she had been the night they’d gone to Slim’s?
“Having what?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said as she waved her hand in the air dismissively. “My nerves have been on edge lately and I haven’t fully gotten back on my feet. Not after what, uh, what happened at the cemetery. Normally I’m very much in control.”
She was being evasive. Again. “How are the knees?”
“Healing nicely, thank you. I’ll be good as new in no time.” She reached down and gingerly ran a hand over one knee. “The clothes, on the other hand, didn’t fare so well. I had to discard them.”
“Hmm.” Only a woman would think about the clothes rather than the importance of her injuries. Today she wore a charcoal gray suit with a light colored top that only emphasized the dark circles under her eyes. So far he hadn’t seen her in anything she didn’t look good in, even if all she’d worn had been business suits. What would it be like to see her out of the prim and proper suit, to explore every inch of her creamy skin? His mind went down a path he had no business traveling. Once started, though, he couldn’t stop. What was the color of her lacy bra, and did it have matching panties? The image of her peeking out from under her eyelashes, a wicked grin on her lips as she stood in nothing but her underwear and high heels resulted in a very uncomfortable hard on.