Friends? Her smile spread slowly over her features. He was suggesting they be friends. She couldn't have planned it more perfectly. Holding out her hand, she said, "Friends."
He clasped her hand and moved closer. "No more jumping if I touch you? I'm afraid I'm a habitual toucher."
She grimaced. "I can't promise, but I'll try to anticipate it."
"And I'll try to move slowly enough for you to see it coming. One more thing. I only know one way to erase your memory of that... incident. I'll even ask permission." His gaze settled on her mouth. "May I?" She parted her lips in answer. Continuing to hold her hand, he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.
Lightly. Tenderly. Briefly.
And with an impact more devastating than any blatant open mouthed kiss could ever be.
"You see?" He whispered the words against her mouth. "I can be nice. There's nothing to be afraid of."
She raised her lashes and met his gaze. They both knew just how wrong he was.
Chapter 11
The whirring sound of the microwave roused David but he feigned sleep a little longer. He had determined that the insistent throbbing of his sex was due as much to morning wood as to almost two weeks of celibacy rather than a physical contact that could hardly be called a kiss. He had firmly shut out the irrational voice that reminded him that he had not been with a woman since first seeing Holly in the hotel lobby.
The more he thought about the two kisses they had shared, the more certain he was that seduction might be the right tool to extract information from Holly after all. Her being an innocent only meant he had to proceed more slowly than usual, but the end result would be the same. She would soon be happy to tell him anything he wanted to know, including whether or not any of her friends was a murderess.
He suddenly realized that somewhere along the way, he had eliminated the possibility that she could be a killer. Her reaction to being touched was his biggest clue. She'd been a victim once and had never fully recovered, of that he was certain. He couldn't imagine her becoming aggressive enough to kill, even in self-defense. His conclusion was that she could not have murdered Tim Ziegler... at least not personally.
But his reporter's nose still told him she knew something about it that she was keeping to herself. The task he'd assigned himself was to get her to share that secret. He would begin by showing her how much he respected her privacy.
Since the generator-run window air conditioner was in the center of the camper, he had left the vinyl accordion door open throughout the night. With his lower half discreetly covered by the sheet, he rose and pulled shut the divider before donning his slacks.
Holly had jolted awake the instant a beam of sun shot through the blinds. Surprisingly she had gotten a few hours' sleep in spite of the fact there had been a man not twenty feet away from her all night. Leaving on the small light over the stove had helped somewhat but she had not actually slept in the same room with anyone in over twenty years. The one and only night she had stayed with Philip, she hadn't closed her eyes.
Sometime during the night, Holly had talked herself into believing David's caress had been a friendly gesture, even brotherly. To be on the safe side, however, she'd make sure it didn't happen again.
The more immediate problem was that her modesty was getting the best of her. She needed to use the bathroom, but hated the thought of traipsing outside to the public—probably less than sanitary—facilities, even more than she dreaded using the one inside. But she really needed to rinse off. The excessive humidity made her sticky and she was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
"Good morning," David offered with a cheerful grin when he emerged from his sleeping area. He had a roll of clothing in one hand. "I'm going to take advantage of that undrinkable water to shower and shave, but I would recommend you make do with what we have here. There's no telling who or what is lurking in and around the women's area. I'll just fill the water tank up again later."
She wondered if he was psychic or just very considerate. Her eyes expressed her gratitude as clearly as her shy "Thank you."
Holly was bathed, dressed, and on her second cup of coffee by the time David returned. She had begun to wonder if he had gone off to survey the area without telling her, when he appeared wearing a bigger smile than when he'd left.
"I've got great news," he said, pouring himself a mug of coffee. "I went by the management office to ask a few questions and got more than I expected. The manager agreed to rent me his son's Vespa."
"This is a good thing?"
He smirked at her. "It would be rather foolish to try driving this monster on roads that haven't been cleared yet."
"But have you ever driven a Vespa before?" she asked, continuing to sound skeptical.
"It's a bicycle with a motor. How hard can it be?"
She raised her eyes to the ceiling.
"Well, of course, you don't have to come along. I'm sure you'll find other transportation eventually."
She realized she was about to sigh again and stopped herself. "I would very much appreciate your being my chauffeur through the disaster area, on one condition. I pay for half of the rental cost, on the bike and the campsite."
David raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you've given up the idea of finding a motel room?"
She shrugged and tried not to blush. "If you'll let me share expenses, I'd be most grateful for the use of the bunk for another night."
He toasted her with his coffee mug. "I assure you, it will be my pleasure."
An hour later, Holly had her arms wrapped around David's waist from behind and was praying for salvation as he learned the feel of the Vespa. But as they sputtered their way onto Key Largo, she forgot all about her own safety.
A few of the newer hotels and condominium buildings still had concrete shells to mark their existence. No roofs, windows, or signs had remained intact, however. Much more upsetting was to see walls of homes completely collapsed and furnishings strewn over parking lots and in swimming pools.
She was stunned to see so many people wandering through the wreckage, some searching for things, others just looking dazed. David barely avoided running into a toilet perched in the middle of the lane. At least the small, two-wheeled vehicle allowed them to skirt fallen trees, broken glass, and sizable sections of concrete walls.
He interviewed the first police officer he saw. The man had been on duty for thirty hours, in spite of learning that his own home had been destroyed. He just kept repeating how glad he was that he had insisted his wife and kids go north to his parents' house.
"Any idea how the evacuation went?" David asked.
"It couldn't have been much worse. A lot of the older people were here during Andrew, back in '92, you know, sort of prepared them for this one, so some of them got moving at the first hint that Brigitte was headed this way. And of course what happened with Katrina is still pretty fresh. But there were still a lot of people who just refused to leave. Conchs are that way. I heard a couple of the older bridges further south collapsed with full loads of cars on them. They'll be searching for bodies for weeks."
"Any numbers yet?" David prodded in a concerned tone.
The officer shook his head. "It'll be a while before anything's substantiated, but it could be in the thousands." A shoving match in a driveway across the road caught his attention and, warning David to be careful, he took off.
They stopped from time to time to take pictures and make notes. He would madly type on his iPad while she dictated her observations over the video she recorded on her phone. Fortunately they had been able to charge their tools in the camper. Unfortunately there was no signal to make a call or send an email. All service towers were down or damaged.
They passed a fishing boat lodged in a palm tree that had been split in half, and a sailboat skewered on a concrete dock piling. Twisted automobiles had been hurled into houses as well as the ocean. Where an expensive home used to stand, a crowd had gathered to see the nurse shark that had landed in the swi
mming pool.
David was able to continue driving south as far as Islamorada, but the bridge between Upper and Lower Matecumbe was gone. There weren't even pilings sticking out of the murky water to show where it had once stood. Very few people had ventured this far and there was no sign of any police or cleanup crews.
Holly asked David to stop so she could get a closer look at the shore. "I thought that's what I saw," she said with a frown, then began taking pictures. "This was a large mangrove stand. It looks like someone just came along with a giant buzzsaw and mowed them down. It's probably like this along the entire coast."
David shaded his eyes as he tried to see what she was talking about. "So?"
She lowered her camera and met his gaze. "The mangroves are vital to coastal ecology. The fallen mangrove leaves feed hundreds of species of fish, which become food for larger fish and birds. Without the mangroves, the food chain is disrupted and many of the animals may leave to find a new breeding area, if they survive at all."
Shifting slightly, she captured David's profile in her sight. He was staring out at the water as if looking for an explanation for all the destruction they had witnessed. Her finger twitched on the button before she realized she wanted a picture of him just like that.
Once they returned to Key Largo, they tracked down every person in a position of any authority they could find. Sea and air rescues were being organized for the lower islands. A considerable amount of friendly conversation earned David and Holly an offer of two seats in a television news helicopter the next morning. David swore helicopters didn't bother him the way jets did but Holly thought he still looked a bit squeamish as he accepted.
By late afternoon they returned to the mainland and drove north until they got a strong enough signal to make a few calls and send the photos and videos they'd collected. Holly's report to Philip only took a few minutes, but David was still finalizing his article for his editor, so she made one more call.
"Hi, Mom. Sorry I didn't phone first thing this morning, but I have a good reason. Guess where I'm calling you from."
"Unless it's Pittsburgh International Airport, I don't care."
Holly heard the hint of depression and instantly tensed. "What's wrong?" She heard her mother's sigh and realized it was the same sound she had been making a lot lately. "What's Pop done now?"
"I always try to be understanding, you know that. But every time there's a crisis, he acts like he's the only person in this house that's upset by it."
Holly knew her mother was referring to the deaths of her brother and sister. Although her mother had been devastated by the losses and suffered severe bouts of depression to this day, her father's anger had consumed all his thoughts, blinding him to his wife's needs. Holly deduced that she had now brought more trouble down on them with her confession rather than clearing the air. "I didn't tell you about what happened to get either of you upset—"
"I know that, baby, but he's completely irrational when it comes to protecting what's his. Right now, it's like a fresh wound and all he can think about is finding a way to get even. I'm sure he'll get over it sooner or later, but it might help if you came home for a whole weekend soon."
"I'll try, I promise." She told her mother where she was and what she had seen that day, but she had the feeling her words went unheard.
"Problem?" David asked behind her.
She forced a bright smile. "Nothing important. But this heat is killing me. It must be over a hundred degrees out here. And I'm starving. Remind me to pack a lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah. You'd think Brigitte would have had the decency to leave at least one McDonald's standing."
They headed back to the motorhome, only to find the interior more stifling than the outdoors. After turning on the a/c unit, they both opted for cold showers in the public facilities with the mosquitoes while the camper cooled down.
Clean and somewhat more comfortable, they combined their culinary talents to boil some spaghetti and heat up some bottled sauce. When David opened a bottle of white wine, she accepted a glass without hesitation. It had been one hell of a day.
Their conversation flowed more easily over dinner, as if they had known each other much longer than a few days. Holly was again amazed at the very different extremes David had to his personality and wondered if he saw her the same way. At least it appeared that her plan for them to become friends was moving along just fine. She decided right then that, as soon as she returned to Washington, she would forward the notes on Jerry Frampton to him.
Recalling her idea of doing some investigating on her own, she now firmly discarded it. Not only did her staying with David make it difficult, her decision meant it was no longer necessary for her to attempt something she had no experience with.
Without discussing it, she cleared the small table and started washing dishes. He automatically picked up a towel to dry.
"So what do you think about accenting the environmental impact of the hurricane?" she asked.
"I think it'll work. Of course, I have to verify some of the information you gave me."
"Of all the nerve. Are you insinuating you can't take my word for it?"
He started to stammer out an explanation he caught the glint in her eye. In a flash, he twirled the damp dishtowel into a weapon and delivered a sting to her backside. "That was for leading me to believe you had no sense of humor. But just to prove I don't hold a grudge, you can pick the movie tonight."
In spite of the fact that joining him on that bed again would undoubtedly be a mistake, she did it anyway. Scanning the labels on the old videotapes, she chose a favorite comedy of hers, Overboard. They both laughed over the silly plot, and both held their breath when Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn ended up making love. Holly scolded herself for not remembering just how steamy that scene was.
The moment the first credit appeared she said good night, but her departure was halted when David sat up in front of her.
"Hold it," he said as his fingers closed over her shoulders. "This still isn't working, is it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She purposely kept her eyes averted. "Let me go, David. I didn't give you permission for this."
Her gaze darted back to him a moment before his mouth pressed against hers. She tipped her head back and turned aside, as her fists pressed against his chest.
He kept his grip on her shoulders as he murmured into her ear. "Just one real kiss. One without anger, without pretended indifference. Then I'll let you run away. You know you want to try that kiss as much as I do."
"I do not."
"Liar."
His lips grazed her cheek and sought her mouth again. Instead of the pressure she expected, he brushed his mouth back and forth, teasing until she began to move to the lazy rhythm. She could not stop herself from closing her eyes to savor the exquisite sensation. Only then did he take the real kiss he had spoken of. As his mouth slanted over hers, his hands eased her backward until she was lying beside him.
This kiss held all the surprising electricity of the first only this time she could tell he was caught up in the same maelstrom of wonder as she. Twice he broke the kiss and returned for more.
She felt so warm, wrapped in a cocoon of luxurious velvet. Why did this man have to be the one to reawaken her desire? He had drawn one knee up and over her thighs, and she felt his male body hardening and tensing all along her own. What happened after their first kiss came back to her in a flash, and she pulled her head away.
"I thought you weren't interested, Mr. Wells."
"I'm not," he replied with a contradictory chuckle.
"Liar." She slid her hand down his shirt to his belt buckle, but he grabbed her wrist and pinned her arm down on the bed beside her.
"If you start that, you'd better be ready to finish it. Are you?" There was no hint of humor in his question.
She blinked in an effort to reorient herself. For the moment her mind was fully occupied with the need to catch her breath. It took another moment to realize what
she had almost done.
David saw the confusion in her eyes and gave her a break. Gentling his hold, he placed a light kiss on her parted lips. "Easy now. I was just doing my damnedest to live up to my promise not to take anything more than a kiss. Gentlemen always keep their promises, you know." He grinned down at her and she relaxed in his embrace. "I have a confession to make," he whispered, stroking her hair.
"Do I want to hear it?"
"I hope so. The evening I saw you at the airport, I didn't really recognize Philip. I was trying to find out who you were."
"Surprise, surprise," she said with a dry laugh.
"Because I had seen you before and was intrigued as hell." He made her wait a few seconds for the rest. "About two weeks ago. In the lobby of the Kessler Hotel. You walked by and I felt like I'd been hit by one of Star Trek's tractor beams. It was all I could do not to follow you into the elevator." He felt her breathing change and purposely lightened his tone. "It's too bad I didn't know you then. You could have saved me a lot of time trying to get an interview with your friend."
The color drained from her face and she sat up slowly. "My friend?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Erica Donner. That was who you went up to the penthouse to see, wasn't it?" He gave a little shrug. "I noticed you got onto the private elevator."
"Oh. Yes, of course. I remember."
He sat up, but was careful not to crowd. She looked like it was taking every bit of her strength to sit still. "She's a real piece of work. Can't say as I understand you two being friends."
"We, uh, haven't seen each other in years. Since college."
His mind automatically called up the facts that Holly had graduated from Georgetown and Donner from Berkeley. But Donner had once attended Dominion as well. "Really? Where was that?"
Her pupils dilated a mere fraction, enough to give her fear away. "Georgetown."
He narrowed his eyes in thought. Could Donner have attended Georgetown and it never showed up in her bio? He didn't think so. Holly was lying about that. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. He also knew that whatever her connection was with Erica Donner made Holly nervous. But it wasn't time to challenge her yet. If he pushed for the truth now, he could be sacrificing the chance to get bigger truths later.
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