Never Alone (43 Light Street)

by Rebecca York

  She had tipped her head up again and was looking at him with such open longing that he felt his heart turn over in his chest. No one had ever looked at him like that. Probably because he’d made it clear he didn’t want any kind of deep and meaningful relationship.

  He still couldn’t admit to either one of them what he wanted. Not in the long run. All he could do was dip his head and take her mouth in the kind of searing kiss he’d been craving for days, craving when the marriage ceremony had ended.

  He’d been too self-conscious to do it then. But now that they were alone, he was helpless to keep from taking what he desired, needed. It was a kiss of hunger and passion, a very thorough kiss that left them both shaking when he finally lifted his head.

  “Beth,” he breathed. He would accept anything she was willing to give him. Now. In the present. Because he still couldn’t contemplate the future.

  His trembling hands skimmed her back, her gorgeous golden hair, then slid over the curve of her bottom just for a moment before pulling back to her waist. “I asked Mrs. Hawkins, the woman who owns this place, to fix us lunch and leave it here. We can eat if you want.”

  “Is that what you want?” she whispered against his lips.

  “I think it’s pretty obvious what I want.”

  “Then let’s wait on lunch and get right to dessert.”

  He nibbled his lips over hers, little tasting kisses that moved to her cheeks and her jaw then back to her mouth, before he asked the question he was pretty sure he knew the answer to. “Have you done this before? Been with a man?”

  “Only once. Only with you.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Her breath caught. “Was my inexperience so obvious?”

  “No. I was just thinking how much I want to do this right.”

  “You will.” She giggled. “You already have, actually. That thought is very…bracing. It’s working for me. Let it work for you, too.”

  He hadn’t expected humor from her. “Okay,” he answered with a grin. Reaching for her hand, he led her into the bedroom, then took a step back, gazing his fill. “You look so beautiful in that dress.”

  “You could have told me earlier.”

  “I could barely speak earlier. I’m lucky I could answer the judge.”

  Shrugging out of his jacket, he draped it over the back of a rocking chair. His gun and holster went on the dresser.

  He knew she was watching him, knew she was nervous despite what she’d said earlier.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “In the dream, you did a striptease for me.”

  Her cheeks flamed. A very stirring sight.

  “You want me to do that again?” she asked.

  When he heard the nerves in her voice, he silently cursed himself for not making his meaning clear. “No. This time, I’d like the pleasure of undressing you.”

  The look of relief she gave him made his throat ache. Wordlessly, he gathered her to him, his hands going around her to the zipper at the back of her dress. He tugged it down, then lifted the dress over her head and set it carefully on the chair, leaving her in the lacy slip he’d caught hints of through the sheer material of the dress.

  When his fingers traced the lace of the bodice, her breath quickened. The slip went the way of the dress.

  “You’re not wearing panties,” he breathed as he stared at her through the almost-transparent fabric of her panty hose.

  “Jo said they spoiled the line of the dress.”

  “Remember to thank Jo for me,” he murmured as he knelt to slide the hose down. He pressed his cheek against her middle, wanting to do more, but he had warned himself not to go too fast. So he only gave her tummy a nibbling kiss, then stood to unhook her bra.

  He had seen her before. She had been naked for him, he reminded himself as she stood before him in nothing but her bare skin. But this was different. This was the real world.

  “I kept wondering if you could possibly be as beautiful as you were in that dream. But you’re more beautiful,” he whispered as his gaze took her in.

  Before she had time to blush again, he gathered her to him, kissed her, stroked his fingers over her silky skin, then turned to pull down the covers and lift her onto the bed.

  His own clothing disappeared in record time. Then he came down beside her, cradling her naked body against his, his head spinning with the reality of feeling her soft feminine flesh pressed against him.

  He felt her move her hips instinctively against his, but he eased away, his vision focused on nothing but her as he began to touch and caress her. First with his hands, then with his mouth, arousing her, bringing currents of heat to his own body, currents that sank from each point of contact to the depths of his soul.

  Somewhere in his mind, he had been afraid that the dream was the ultimate pleasure. He had been wrong. This was more, so much more.

  As he had done in the cabana by the pool, he ran his hand down her body, caressed the curve of her belly, then lower, before sliding into her hidden feminine place. She moaned her approval, arched into his caress, telling him she wanted more, wanted everything.

  “Everything,” she breathed, reaching for him, urging him to cover her body with his.

  But he held back, just as he had in the dream, caressing her intimately until she was molten for him.

  He moved over her then, pressed into her, feeling the resistance of the barrier.

  “Beth, I—”

  “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  Her hands locked around his waist and urged him forward. Taking her at her word, he plunged deeper, then stilled above her as he heard her gasp.

  His gaze was urgent as he stared down into her eyes. “Beth?”

  She sucked in a breath, and he heard her struggling to make her voice steady. “I’m fine.”

  “I hurt you.”

  She turned her face upward, meeting his eyes. “I think you can take the hurt away,” she murmured, thrusting her hips upward, taking him deeper inside her.

  He breathed her name, then began to move, slowly at first, watching her face.

  “Everything,” she whispered. “Give me everything. All of you.”

  He gave her what she wanted, setting a rhythm he remembered, except now he knew that the dream had only been a prelude to something deeper, more powerful. She gave him as much in return as they climbed upward together to dizzying heights.

  He felt her hands on his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh even as she cried out his name, her body contracting around him.

  Her pleasure cascaded through him, triggering his release, a burst of sensation so profound that there were no words to describe it.

  Afterward he gathered her perspiration-slick body in his arms, feeling the pounding of her heart—and his. He bent to brush his lips against hers, then lifted his head so that he could look down at her.

  “I thought nothing could be better than the way it was in my fantasy. But I was wrong.”

  “Oh, yes.” She reached to touch his cheek. “Because this is real. You and me.”

  He nodded, still unable to entirely believe it, unwilling to let the happiness he felt sweep him away. It was still too new, too fragile. Too threatening.

  But he was content for the moment, content to let her doze in his arms. A while later, when he eased away, she opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said.

  “Well, I was too nervous to eat this morning. I guess you had better feed me.”

  “Then we’ll have a picnic in bed.”

  He gave her a few minutes alone and heard her disappear into the bathroom. When he came back from the living room, pushing a tea cart, she had straightened the bed and fluffed up the pillows.

  She was sitting up, the sheet pulled over her breasts.

  “We’ve got potato salad, sliced turkey, marinated artichokes with olives, curried chicken with pineapple and key lime pie.”

  “A feast.” />
  “What do you want?”

  “What you’re having,” she said.

  He filled a plate for her, then for himself and climbed back in beside her, his shoulder pressed to hers.

  They had been eating for several minutes when he cleared his throat, wondering how he was going to say what was on his mind.

  When she tipped her head toward him inquiringly, he decided the best way was to just spit it out. “I never did thank you for saving my life. All I did was growl at you for daring to barge into my happy little dreamworld. But if you hadn’t come there, I wouldn’t have left. And I’d be a vegetable by now.”

  “I—” She stopped, found his hand and pressed it. “I’m glad you came back. To me.”

  “Yeah.” He pushed a piece of potato around on his plate. “Talking about stuff isn’t the easiest thing for me.”

  “I know. That’s true for me, too. I was alone for a long time. I guess I was used to telling my secrets to my dog.”

  “Our dog now. We can both talk to him when we know the other one will be listening.”

  She laughed. “I’m hoping we can be more direct.”

  “More direct. Yeah.” He reached to run his finger along the sheet where it covered the tops of her breasts. The touch sent an electric current arching between them.

  “Here’s a direct question. Do you want to finish eating later?” he asked in a thick voice.

  “Yes,” she answered, her tone matching his.

  Cal moved the plates to the cart, took her in his arms and pressed her back against the mattress.

  They spent the day glorying in the novelty of doing whatever they wanted. And when they woke the next morning it was to the same joyful celebration.

  Cal didn’t want to break the mood, to spoil their delight. But by afternoon, he figured they had to talk about some serious stuff.

  “I was remembering what you said about not wanting to sleep in your bedroom,” he began. “After the murder.”

  She shuddered. “I’ve worried about that.”

  “But you do want to stay on the farm?”

  She gave him a conflicted look. “Before the murder, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, but now…”

  “We can move into one of the other bedrooms when we go back.”

  She nodded, then asked, “Does that work for you? Living out there?”

  “Yeah, when it’s safe. I grew up in the country. I like your farm.”

  “If we can’t go home when we leave here, where are we going?”

  “Jo has invited us to stay with her. That’s about the safest place I can think of.”

  “We won’t be alone.”

  “Actually, she’s got a guest cottage where we can be as alone as we want.”

  She raised her face to his. “For how long?”

  “I wish I knew.” He reached with his bare foot to play with her toes, searching for the right way to bring up another topic.

  “What do you want to ask me?” she said.

  He looked up at her. “How do you know I want to ask you something?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m getting closer to you. I can tell you want to get further into this business discussion, but you don’t want to upset me any more than you have to.”

  “Yeah. That’s a pretty good description of what’s going through my head.” Not so long ago he might have been annoyed by her perception. Now it wasn’t threatening. He cleared his throat. “Do you remember a guy named Dave Garwill?”

  She thought for a moment. “A little runty guy? The other kids used to make fun of him. I felt sorry for him, so we’d talk sometimes.”

  “I can find records of him up to two years ago. Then he disappears from the radar scope.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He could be dead—although there’s no record of that. He could have moved away from the area, but there are no records of credit cards in his name, or any other indication that he’s moved. So my best assumption is that he’s created a new identity for himself.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “So nobody can find him—or pin him to the reunion murders.”

  “You think he’s the one who’s doing it? The one who turned off the lights and…knifed people at that meeting. He wasn’t like that. He was—” She stopped and thought. “He was a wimp.”

  “Yeah, well, from my research, I’d say he’s the most likely candidate.”

  “Then what are we going to do?”

  “I’m going to get back on active duty and find him. Or if I can’t get them to certify me as fit, I’ll find him on my own.”

  “How?”

  “I’m going to get some help from Alex Shane, the detective assigned to the case. I want to give him as much information as I can. It would help if you could tell me everything you know about Garwill.”

  She looked thoughtful. “I haven’t seen him since high school. I know he lived with his mother. That his father was dead. I know he liked electronic stuff—gadgets. I know—” She stopped short.

  “What?”

  “I know he had a crush on Lisa Stapler, and she cut him dead. Laughed in his face, I heard.”

  “Dead,” he repeated, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he thought about what had been done to her before she’d died. “Yeah, Lisa Stapler is the one victim whose body we found. The body we were meant to find, because he left it right out in the open.”

  “YOU’RE TOO RESTLESS to stay here, aren’t you?” Beth asked a little while later as she watched Cal shred a blade of grass with his thumb.

  He tossed the mangled piece of greenery to the lawn. “Sorry. I think I’m spoiling our honeymoon.”

  She felt the corners of her mouth curve upward. “Nothing could spoil the past couple of days. But I can tell you need to get back. Get to work.”

  “I can’t get the medical forms I need until Monday. I can’t go back on the job yet.”

  “But you want to be at your computer.”

  “Yeah.” He turned toward her. “I rented this cottage for another day. I wanted time alone with you.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time alone once you catch Garwill.”

  “You think it’s him?”

  “You do!”

  He nodded, coming toward her, reaching for her. She came into his arms and clung tightly to him.

  “You sure you don’t mind leaving?” he whispered.

  “I think your mind isn’t on making love right now.”

  “Yeah, it is. It is whenever I’m holding you or looking at you. But that bastard will still be in the back of my mind. I want you safe.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. When his hands slid down her back to pull her hips more tightly against his, she decided that maybe the honeymoon wasn’t quite over yet.

  An hour later he phoned the Randolph Security team down the road and told them they were going back to the city.

  Then they carried their luggage to the car.

  As they approached the beltway, Beth turned to him. “Can I go to your house with you?”

  Cal thought about it for a moment. “No. I want you where you’re safe. And the safest place I can think of is with Jo.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, because that was something she could do for him, give him peace of mind.

  He buzzed them through the gate, then pulled up in front of the house and set the luggage on the wide front porch.

  She followed him, standing very close, reaching for him because she couldn’t help herself. Now that the moment of separation had come, she realized she wasn’t as prepared as she’d pretended to be. “Are you coming back tonight?”

  “Yes,” he said thickly. “No later than nine.” And she sensed that if she didn’t turn him loose, he might never leave.

  She gave him what was meant to be a quick kiss, then clung for extra moments, until she heard children giggling in the shrubbery. Looking up, she found Anna and Leo grinning at them.

  She gri
nned back. But she couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding as she watched Cal’s car disappear down the long driveway.

  Jo was waiting inside the front hall. “I take it the two of you worked things out,” she said after she’d shooed the youngsters inside.

  “Yes. I don’t think he entirely trusts being happy, but I’m working on it.” She found herself blushing as she thought about how good it had been. “Too bad his mind got stuck on business again,” she added.

  “Bad business,” Jo murmured.

  DAMIEN SLUMPED DOWN in the front seat of his Honda, moving to stretch cramped muscles. Hard muscles he’d developed through years of working out with weights.

  He might have been a wimp in high school, but no more. Now he had a great body—to go with his excellent mind.

  “I’m Damien Hardon,” he muttered. “And that’s a lot better than the wimpy name I was born with. Yeah.”

  Then he pressed his lips together. He was doing it again, talking to himself. Which was okay. There was nothing wrong with that. But not when he was on a stakeout.

  He’d been watching the detective’s house for the past two days, using a couple of different cars. So far the guy hadn’t come home. He’d waited until the security guys were long gone before checking out the courthouse. There he’d discovered the names of Calvin Rollins and Beth Wagner on the list of marriage ceremonies that morning.

  “Son of a bitch.” He repeated the observation he’d been making since he’d discovered the marriage. “The cop’s off on his honeymoon. But where? And for how long?”

  Again he made an effort to keep his thoughts silent. If he knew Rollins, the cop couldn’t stay away for long. Not a working stiff like him.

  “Quiet little neighborhood,” he muttered. “When it gets dark, I’ll go up to the house and see if Rollins has an alarm system. Two to one he’s too arrogant for that.”

  Damien stroked his chin, thinking. With his lock picks he could get inside most places. If he went inside, he’d probably get some prime information. On the other hand, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. The cop wasn’t some naive civilian. He’d know somebody had broken in.