They settled in. He cuddled her in his arms. Stars twinkled in the inky sky, like on the night they met. So much had passed between them in the last few weeks.
“You’ve figured out that Ashe and I knew each other in college, right?”
“At Virginia. You were frat brothers, but Ashe left suddenly midsemester. Something happened with a girl. What?”
Brynn.
A tightness invaded his chest. He never believed the wound her loss created would heal. Being with Jackie, wanting her to want him, made him realize that the wound not only healed, but the scar had also disappeared.
“Brynn Rouvalis. My first love.”
Jackie fidgeted in his arms.
Brandon caressed her hand. She calmed down. “We were young. Immature.” He swallowed. “We got drunk at a party at my fraternity house one night. Ashe convinced a bunch of us to drive out to the farm where he kept his horses. I drove Brynn. I blacked out.” His voice cracked. “Hit a tree. Killed her.”
Jackie turned toward him and snuggled closer. She ran her fingers over his face. Her soft kisses covered his cheek. She whispered, “Accidents happen.”
“How can you be sure it was an accident?”
She wrinkled her brow at him. How much did she know?
He continued, “Ashe’s dad pulled strings. Got me off. Then Ashe transferred from UVA. I always wondered why. I think he might have been involved in Brynn’s death.”
Jackie sat up straight. “Brandon, do you remember a cop named Shifflett involved in the investigation?”
Brandon let out a stiff laugh. “Half of Charlottesville is named Shifflett.” He cocked his head at her. “Why?”
“Someone gave me the phone number of Bob Shifflett in Charlottesville. I talked to him about your accident. He said something about manslaughter but alluded to more serious charges. He also insinuated that Ashe bore some responsibility.”
Brandon sat up straighter. “Interesting. I just found out a few days ago that Brynn was pregnant when she died. It was Ashe’s. He’d raped her.”
“Oh my God.” Jackie held his hand tight. “You didn’t know?”
Brandon shook his head. “My gut tells me Ashe was involved, but I can’t figure out his role in her death. I was drunk. I killed her.”
Jackie grabbed his shoulders and gave him a quick shake. “Stop. Beating yourself up won’t help. What does any of this have to do with my case?”
Brandon sighed and leaned back. He looked up into the velvety sky. How much could he tell her? Her attorney instincts provided him slight leeway.
“I owed Ashe. My mom had died. Then my dad.” A viselike grip seized his throat. His hearted thrummed. He breathed deeply to steady himself. “Then my girlfriend died, and I was responsible. Mess would have been an understatement to describe me. I wanted to die. Ashe and his dad took care of everything for me. They pulled me through. I owed him.”
Jackie scoffed. “Are we talking about the same Robert Ashe, Jr.? He’s the most egocentric asshole I’ve ever met. The man’s a psycho.”
The invisible clamp around his throat tightened. “I know. But I was depressed and desperate to distance myself from my role in her death.”
“I don’t understand.”
Brandon looked hard at her. “Ashe can be charming. He reads people better than anyone I’ve ever met. He said all the right things. Convinced me it wasn’t my fault. Got me to move on.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’ve moved on.”
“I did for a time. Anyway, me testifying as the expert in this case pays off that marker. I can put Ashe out of my life for good.”
Jackie jerked Brandon’s arm. “Except for the fact that you resigned from the case. Now he’s bat-shit crazy mad at you. Mad enough to send his henchmen after you. With guns. Guns, Brandon. Why the hell did you resign?”
He stared off into the bay. The water lapped rhythmically on the hull. Most would find peace in this setting. Brandon felt trapped. He craved a simpler, Ashe-free future. A future with a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman. He never expected his heart would be so open.
A tug at his sleeve brought him back to the present. Jackie’s gaze drilled into him. “Why did you resign?”
The government assured him they were close to nailing Ashe. By resigning, he’d shaken Ashe up. Threatened his case. He couldn’t put Jackie at risk. He needed her to lie low. Get her away from him, the case, Ashe.
“You’ll have to trust me.”
The look from her narrowed eyes pierced his soul. She opened her mouth. He expected an acerbic retort. She remained silent.
She just stared at him.
Into him.
He deserved her suspicion. He prayed that once all this was over, he could finally earn her trust.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jackie squinted into the first rays of sunlight. The morning broke crisp and clear, a relief from the humidity and haze that had been hanging over the Chesapeake like a damp towel. Brandon had rigged the sails after fixing the malfunctioning part that caused the accident the previous day.
The boat skimmed quietly, smoothly, and slowly over the dark waves. The twinkling lights of Annapolis greeted them at dawn.
Jackie leaned back against Brandon, who was nestled among a pile of sails and blankets on the foredeck of the boat. The soft, cool breeze licked around her face and tossed her untamed hair.
She’d asked Brandon to tell her everything last night, but he stopped short when they got to the topic of his resignation from the case. How could he expect her to trust him when he kept evading her questions? Only she did a better job at avoiding probing inquiries.
Something clicked.
Dancing.
Were they both dancing around the idea of trust?
Their physical and intellectual connections sizzled hotter than liquid lava. She’d had that type of bond with Gary, but not even close to the level of heat that Brandon shared with her.
As pissed as her head was at him for keeping secrets, her heart beat hard and fast and something deep inside of her softened every time he gazed at her with those warm eyes. Great sex alone had never melted her walls.
Something with Brandon transcended the physical link. He’d given her no reason to trust him. Yet, she believed in his goodness.
Was that trust? Believing something she couldn’t prove?
Brandon wiggled and laid his arm across her. His husky voice vibrated against her neck. “You awake.”
The weight of his draped body calmed her. She snuggled back into Brandon. “I don’t know about you, but it doesn’t feel like in the last twenty-four hours I’ve withdrawn from the biggest case of my life, stalked you, gotten kidnapped by you, dodged gunshots, sailed through a minihurricane, saved your life, spilled my guts, listened to your life story, and had sex, what, three times?”
“Four, for me, counting the blowjob. I lost track of your orgasms after ten,” Brandon said, pulling her tighter and then reaching under her shirt to give her a well-placed tickle.
“Stop! Just because you know every place I’m ticklish, doesn’t mean you have to exercise your knowledge constantly.” Jackie rolled over to face him. Their bodies pressed against each other.
He hardened immediately.
“Five?” she asked.
“God, you know where to get a man, don’t you?” He ran his fingers through her hair.
“What do you mean?”
Brandon softly kissed her forehead. “I mean that there’s nothing I want more than you again, but I’m worried that I may start but not finish. I’m exhausted, baby. My heart and soul have been ripped out of my chest, put through a meat grinder, then plopped back in me in a pulpy lump.”
Jackie stiffened and pulled back. “I thought we finally opened up to each other. You make it sound like a boxing match gone bad.”
“You understand that I let go of ten years of guilt and doubt and pain, don’t you? I can’t thank you enough for listening. It was just so wrenching and draining.
”
“I do,” she said with a peck on the tip of his nose. “You are just so incredibly sexy. I suppose I had some pent-up sexual tension. Now that it’s released, I want to make love with you.” Small oval movements of her hips brought him harder and fuller beneath her.
He groaned. “God, you are killing me. I’ve got a hard-on, a gorgeous woman begging me for sex, and I want to make coffee. This is seriously wrong. Let’s eat, get some coffee, turn this boat around back to Baltimore, and then I promise to take care of you. Deal?”
“You owe me big-time. I’ll never let you forget this.” She licked her index finger and then traced his lips with it.
“I have no doubt about that. I’ll be eighty years old, trying to get it up, and you’ll remind me of every last time I didn’t perform.” With a firm grip on her ass, he yanked her against him, then just as fast pushed her away and jumped up, leaving her sitting in the sails on the deck.
When he’s eighty? Jackie stared at him, wondering what he’d look like when he was eighty. Oh God, that would mean she’d be eighty-three. The Kovels came to mind. They were in their eighties, and something told her they were still doing something, if not the deed exactly. She wanted them to meet Brandon. To approve. After all, they were the ones responsible for her being here.
“What are you staring at?” Brandon asked.
“Never mind. My stomach will eat itself alive if I don’t have breakfast with my coffee.”
“Ye of little faith.” He waved a finger at her in chastisement. “Just wait here. I’ll bring it up.”
The dark coffee steamed. Sticky buns covered with pecan halves filled an entire plate. Jackie licked her fingers as well as Brandon’s. The innocent, domestic setting triggered a warm swelling in her chest.
She should be grilling him about his involvement with Ashe, but she fantasized about sipping coffee over the morning paper and quizzing him about his day’s agenda.
Jesus. She was crazy. Was this how people in love acted?
With the sun up, the air heated fast. They’d discarded their sweaters long ago. Shirtless, Brandon’s back flaunted deeply bronzed muscles worthy of a male model. His shaggy hair hung in his eyes, streaks of sunny blond bleached out to a golden halo.
After finishing off a pot of coffee and half-a-dozen sticky buns, they cozied next to each other and reclined on the benches in the cockpit. Their hands linked between them, swinging in the air. The rhythmic breeze, along with the boat’s gentle rocking, provided the perfect cradle.
Jackie opened her eyes to see a white canopy above her. The cloudy transition between sleep and being awake muddled her mind. A bead of sweat rolled down her side, its track cooled in the slight breeze.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” The resonant voice came from somewhere above her head, outside of the tent.
The buzz of a motorboat followed by a choppy bobbing woke her fully. The previous day’s events rushed back. What was dream and what was real?
The white canvas peeled back to reveal a brilliant blue sky with a searing white sun high in the sky. Jackie squinted and covered her eyes but still saw flashbulb spots against the reddish black of her closed lids.
“How long have I been sleeping?” She sat up and looked for sunglasses.
“Quite a while. I rigged up that shade because I was afraid you’d get sunburned and I didn’t want to move you. You were so peaceful lying there. Very sweet and angelic.”
“That’s what my dad used to say, that I looked like an angel”—she paused—“when I was asleep.”
Brandon handed her the Richard Petty shades.
“I’d hoped these bad boys had gone overboard,” said Jackie. She held the sunglasses with the tips of her fingers as if handling toxic waste.
“No such luck. They work. And I will forever treasure them because they remind me of you at your funniest.” He’d changed into tailored shorts, a polo shirt, and topsiders. He’d even combed his hair.
Jackie wolf-whistled. “You look stylish. What’s the occasion?”
“We’re about fifteen minutes from Baltimore. I try to look presentable when pulling in for a discreet mooring.” Brandon scanned the horizon as if looking for a direction sign.
“I suppose I should change too, eh?” Jackie mumbled.
“It’s back to reality, I’m afraid. I’ve got some things to deal with tonight and tomorrow morning. Can I see you tomorrow night, though?”
Jackie’s heart sank. The comfortable domesticity and unending conversations had grown on her. “What kind of things?”
Brandon reached out and took her hand. “Loose ends to tie up, including reporting those creeps who tried to take us out yesterday.”
Reality. Brandon’s job demanded his time. So did hers. Her job. Her mind swirled and her heart beat fast. The landlord wanted rent. Her empty bank account felt like a noose around her neck.
She headed into the cabin to find something she could wear home. She didn’t even have shoes. She faced an adult version of a college girl’s walk of shame. The T-shirt and sweatpants from last night with a pair of ultralarge flip-flops would have to do.
Brandon slowed the boat as they approached Fell’s Point dock. The brick warehouses, chic boutiques, restaurants, and condos were stacked tidily like Legos. Faded red brick contrasted with modern stainless steel balconies and window frames.
“Why are you mooring at Fell’s?” Jackie asked.
“I know someone with a private slip. Should provide me with a little more discretion than the Inner Harbor. Plus, it’s closer to your place.”
Jackie scrunched up her face at him. “How do you know where I live?”
Red seeped up his already sun-kissed cheeks. “I guessed?”
“I keep my home address private. Did you spy on me?”
“Maybe.”
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d say that was creepy.” She had little room to criticize, as she’d been snooping around his entire life for weeks. His photos covered her conference room table.
Brandon maneuvered the boat expertly into the slip with little help from Jackie. For the last twenty-four hours, he had talked only to her. Hearing his crisp and authoritative voice speaking on the radio made her stomach squirm. His cell phone rang repeatedly.
He answered some of the calls, shooting back orders. The expensive clothes and fancy watch reminded her that he lived an entire life of which she’d never been a part.
Would she ever?
As he was shouting at someone on his cell phone, Jackie decided to make a hasty exit. She’d been gone for a day. Marilyn was probably having kittens. Something niggled at the back of her brain.
Shit.
The judge had ordered a reply to a motion in a small employment discrimination matter. Tomorrow.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She gathered her briefcase and clip-clopped off the boat. The big sandals flapped ridiculously against her feet and the dock’s wooden slats.
“Hey, Jackie, where are you going? Wait,” he said and then returned to his caller, “Listen, I’ll call you back in five. Gotta run.”
He trotted behind her and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”
“I need to get back to my office, so I thought I’d just—”
He slid his hand around her waist and pulled her close. He kissed her hard; he conquered her mouth, his lips rough against hers.
He gave her a small shake. “Don’t ever go without saying good-bye. Ever.”
Ever.
Their future seemed solidified in Brandon’s view. Was life as simple as he and Marilyn professed? Her brain refused to process that question.
She let out a small sigh and gave Brandon a quick smile. “Tomorrow night?”
With a soft, familiar kiss on her forehead, he said, “Tomorrow night. I’ll call you. Can I get you a cab?”
“No. I could use a walk.”
With a wave, she turned and headed for home. Her phone was dead. Checking messages led the to-do list she compiled in her hea
d. Call police regarding shooters. File motion. Check in with Simon. Follow up with Shifflett in Charlottesville.
Trust Brandon?
Her heart seized.
Business first, love later.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jackie unlocked the door to her loft and braced herself. Although spacious compared to the little sailboat, her apartment smelled stale instead of breezy and fresh like the open boat. Clothes, papers, and pens littered the living-room-kitchen-dining-room area. She’d been in a rush to leave the previous morning and hadn’t cleaned. Dirty dishes spilled out of the sink onto the postage-stamp-size counter.
Her stomach growled. Although pastries comprised their own food group and the sticky buns from the morning had tasted heavenly, Jackie required substantial food. She stood in front of the refrigerator with the door open and surveyed the options. The cool air wafted out in a foggy condensation. She resisted the urge to shut the door, noting that although she did not work for the power company, she did pay the bill, and she was damned well going to stand with the door open if she wanted to.
Three sticks of string cheese and a minibagel were all that was salvageable from the fridge, however. Standing there wasn’t going to make food appear. She peeled the wrappers off all three pieces of cheese and gathered them up with the bagel and headed to her bedroom for a shower.
The answering machine blinked. Nibbling cheese, Jackie hit Play.
Beep. “Jackie, this is Marilyn, where are you? Call me.”
Beep. “Hey Jackie, Simon O’Malley here. Tried you at your office and on your cell, but no answers. Sorry to bug you at home, but call me ASAP.”
Beep. “Jackie, Marilyn again. We’ve got a problem with the discovery documents. Where are you? Call, please, any time, any number.”
Beep. Fuzzy static and incomprehensible men’s voices followed by a car door slamming, then silence.
Beep. “Jackie. It’s Gary. Call me. Please. It’s urgent. I, uhm, well—” Silence.
Gone for twenty-four hours and suddenly she was Ms. Popularity. Why in hell was Gary calling? She shuddered. His voice had once turned her on but now creeped her out. The hole inside where she held a love for Gary Stone had shrunk in the last year, but his panicky voice niggled inside her. She picked up the receiver and punched in the first six digits of his number. No. Gary was in the past, finally. She hit the End button on the phone and let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
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