“You’d never…” Dane let the words trail off, as if whatever he’d been about to say was somehow wrong.
“No, I’d never do what Lorna did,” Annie said. “But then, I don’t have a family history of mental illness and I didn’t have to grow up with the memory of finding my mother’s body after she’d committed suicide.”
“It was unfair of me to compare the two of you,” Dane told her.
“Like comparing apples to oranges.”
“Two Southern-bred women from similar backgrounds,” Dane said. “But nothing alike. No more alike than your ex-husband and I.”
“I know I was wrong thinking you and Preston were two peas in a pod,” Annie admitted. “You’re far more than a gentleman, Dane Carmichael—you’re a good man.”
Her arms opened of their own volition, in an invitation to come and find solace within her embrace. She noticed the indecision on his face, the uncertainty in his eyes.
Annie held her breath and waited.
Dane came forward, slowly, hesitantly, as if he were unsure of himself and of her. When he was only a couple of feet away from her, he stopped, and she somehow knew that he was trying to resist the lure of her comforting arms.
Then suddenly, he reached for her, slipped his arm around her and tenderly eased her up against him. Leaning down, he nuzzled her neck. “You smell so good, honey.”
She held him close, savoring his nearness, accepting the gift of his trust. “I need you, too,” she whispered, and gave herself over completely to the moment.
He clung to her, breathing in the scent of her, taking strength from her as he’d never done from any other woman. Knowing that he was safe with Annie. He could find peace in the haven of her body. A passion that could soothe. A gentleness that could inflame.
He kissed her neck, then moved lower to her chest, seeking her breast. He suckled her through the thin silk of her robe. Her nipple beaded instantly.
“Dane,” she sighed.
He backed her away from the windows, his hands fondling her, his mouth devouring hers. He jerked the towel from her head and tossed it to the floor. He speared his fingers through her damp hair. The minute the back of her legs encountered the side of the bed, Annie began undressing him. First, his shirt came off and floated to the floor. Then she reached for his belt. By the time she had him completely naked, he had stripped the red-and-gold robe away from her body and left her naked, too. She reached for him, trying to entice him back into her arms, but he would have none of it. Instead, he worshiped her with his touch, his lips and fingertips exploring her thoroughly.
Outside the wind howled, swaying the trees, as lightning streaked the black sky with jagged illumination and earth-trembling thunder shattered the nighttime solitude. Perspiration glistened on Dane’s big, hard body, dampened his hair and blended with the moist glow on Annie’s skin as they tossed and turned on the bed.
Annie lay on her belly, Dane straddling her. He rubbed her neck, her shoulders and her back, then eased his hands slowly downward to massage her hips. While his fingers worked their magic on her body, he kissed, licked and nipped her heated flesh from neck to heels. Every rational thought disappeared from his mind—the past, the present and the future—as he concentrated on Annie. She was the beginning and the end of his world.
Their heated passion melted away the pain from Dane’s soul, releasing him from the past. Now, here, in Annie’s bed, making love with her and sharing the ultimate pleasure he had found with no other woman, Dane said farewell to his grief. Farewell to Lorna. Relief filled his mind and heart. He was free.
When Annie writhed beneath him, moaning with the aching heat of longing boiling inside her, he turned her over onto her back and began a frontal assault. First her mouth and then her ears. Sweet, savage kisses. And all the while, his hands moved over her damp skin, caressing her breasts, tormenting her nipples, sliding between her thighs. He urged her legs apart just enough to seek and find the entrance and work two fingers inside her burning depths.
Annie reached for him, wanting him to take her and end this glorious torture. But he eluded her grasp. When he licked a path from her navel to the apex between her thighs, she tensed like a coiled spring. The minute his tongue moved closer to its destination, she gave herself over to him completely, aware of the ecstasy to come.
She melted into mindless pleasure as he made love to her with his mouth. Release came in a sudden blaze of fiery light that ignited inside her the same moment a lightning bolt hit the earth somewhere nearby. Her breathing quickened, her heartbeat accelerated and perspiration dotted her forehead and upper lip. She cried out. With her cry of fulfillment echoing inside him, Dane came to the brink of release.
While ripples of continuing satisfaction danced along Annie’s nerve endings, Dane lifted her hips. But she jerked away from him and shoved him down on the bed. Surprised by her actions, he started to protest, but before he could complain, Annie circled his erection and caressed him intimately. He groaned as her hand pumped him with a slow, steady beat. But when she skimmed fervent kisses down his body and stopped to allow her mouth to replace her hand, Dane growled, forked his fingers through her hair and held her head in place. He urged her to love him as he had loved her.
Mindless with pleasure, Dane moaned and grunted. Then he uttered a few incoherent words that indicated how thoroughly he was enjoying her ardent attention. His groans grew louder and his movements more fierce. He warned her that his completion was near, but she chose to continue, to carry this special loving to its conclusion.
Dane exploded and splintered into shards of unparalleled satisfaction. When the spasm of intense release eased off to quivering aftershocks, he brought Annie up and over him and took her mouth in a hungry, appreciative kiss. He held her close, kissing her, telling her how wonderful she was and how much she had pleased him.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, while the stormy night was held at bay, as was the reality that tomorrow would bring.
Chapter 12
Annie lifted the bacon from the skillet, laid it on the paper towel to drain, then turned her attention to the scrambled eggs in another skillet. It had been a while since she’d prepared breakfast. She and her mother had become accustomed to Helen being around to take care of the meals and the housework on a daily basis. Of course, until the present situation was resolved, Helen would be helping Aunt Vera’s housekeeper. No one was safe in this house or anywhere Annie stayed. Not as long as someone was trying to kill her. She’d come to realize that the only thing that stood between her and death was Dane Carmichael.
Before dawn, Dane had awakened her. She had opened her eyes drowsily and smiled at him, then opened her arms and welcomed him into her embrace and into her body. They’d made love slowly, maddeningly, driving each other to the breaking point, then retreated to form a new attack. When release had claimed them, they had absorbed every ounce of satisfaction and then fallen asleep again.
Just remembering what she had shared with Dane, the passion and the pleasure, aroused Annie anew. She had never experienced anything like this, not with anyone. Certainly not with Preston. She couldn’t explain exactly what it was. A hunger. A desperate need. A madness. Whatever it was, it rode her hard, and the more of Dane she got, the more she wanted. She knew it was the same for him.
Even though she wasn’t sure what it was—this wild, uncontrollable thing between Dane and her—she knew it really wasn’t love. She’d known him less than a week. It couldn’t be love. She’d never believed in love at first sight, even as a teenager and certainly not now that she was nearly thirty-five. No, it wasn’t love. Lust maybe. Lust! That was it. And unlike love, lust didn’t last. It burned itself out and left nothing but ashes.
The doorbell rang. Annie tensed. Dane was upstairs in the shower. She felt safer in her mother’s house now that a security system had been installed, but whoever was at the door wasn’t trying to break in. Don’t go to the door, she warned herself. But you could go and see who it
is, and if you don’t know them, you don’t have to open the door.
She pulled her robe securely across her body and made sure the tie belt held the silky material together. Just as she started up the hall, she heard Dane running down the stairs. Fully dressed in a brown sport coat, tan slacks, cream shirt and striped tie, he looked every inch the professional businessman. Of course, Annie knew better. Beneath his jacket, he wore a gun. And behind that gentlemanly facade was a warrior. And a primitive man.
Dane glanced back over his shoulder as he paused at the front door. “You weren’t going to answer it, were you?”
“I was just going to see who it was!”
Dane peered through the viewfinder. Royce Layman stood on the porch. Dane eased the door open and stepped aside to allow Annie’s uncle entrance. Royce came into the foyer, shook hands with Dane and smiled when Annie approached.
“Is something wrong?” Annie asked. “Is Mother—”
“Your mother’s fine,” he replied. “She and your aunt Vera wanted me to stop by and check on you. They were afraid you might be upset after Halley’s funeral yesterday.”
Annie hugged her uncle. “Would you like to join us for breakfast?”
“No, thank you, dear.” Royce patted her affectionately on the back. “I’ve already eaten.”
“Please, assure Mother and Aunt Vera that I’m fine.” She glanced meaningfully at Dane. “My bodyguard is taking very good care of me.”
Royce turned to Dane. “Any new leads in the case? The sooner you catch this person who’s trying to harm our Annie, the better for all of us.”
“My agency is working on it full-time, Mr. Layman,” Dane said. “And I assure you that we’ll find out who killed Halley and who’s behind the threats to Annie.”
“Just keep us informed.” Royce shook hands with Dane, gave Annie another hug and started to open the door.
The ringing telephone delayed Royce’s departure. He closed the front door and waited while Dane hurried into the living room and picked up the extension. Annie and Royce joined Dane, their full attention focused on his conversation.
“Morning,” Dane said to Ellen Denby as he smiled at Royce Layman. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Layman or that he actually thought the man might somehow be involved. It was more a nagging worry in the back of his mind—a concern that Layman might let some information fall into the wrong hands.
“We found out where Edwards’s wife and daughter moved after his suicide,” Ellen said.
“Where?”
“A small town in Ohio. Rogersville. The wife’s name is Wilma and the daughter is Rene. We’re tracking down more specifics about both women, but we do have a current address—412 Tunstill Avenue.”
“Thanks for calling,” Dane told her. “I’ll be in touch.”
“I take it that you’re not alone,” Ellen said. “I’ll just wait for your call, unless we uncover something vital in the next ten minutes.”
Dane placed the receiver on the telephone and turned to his audience. “My office,” he said. “They just wanted to report in and let me know they’re checking out a few leads.”
Royce smiled. “I’ll be going, then. If you need me, just call.”
“I will,” Annie assured him. “Give Mother and Aunt Vera my love.”
When Royce Layman’s Mercedes pulled out of the driveway, Dane followed Annie into the kitchen. While he poured two cups of coffee, she filled two plates with bacon, scrambled eggs and toast, then they sat opposite each other at the table.
Dane took a sip of coffee. “Martin Edwards’s wife and daughter live in Rogersville, Ohio. I think we should fly up there today and talk to them.”
“Was that the information your office gave you over the phone?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell Uncle Royce?” Annie’s eyes widened. Her mouth formed a perfect oval. “Oh, you don’t trust my uncle! How could you possibly distrust Uncle Royce?”
“The same way you distrust my former father-in-law, a man I trust as much as you trust your uncle.”
“Touché,” she said. “I suppose we can’t trust anyone except each other at this point, can we?”
“Probably not.” Dane nodded to her plate. “Finish up breakfast and then get dressed. And pack an overnight bag. While you’re getting ready, I’ll call and get us a flight to Rogersville and make hotel reservations.”
“Do you think Edwards’s wife really might have some pertinent information?” Annie asked.
“Guess, we’ll find out later today, won’t we?”
They rented a car at the Dayton New Lebanon Airport and drove the fifty miles to Rogersville. They picked up a city map, ate a hurried lunch of burgers and fries and set out in search of Tunstill Avenue. Located in a middle-class area of town, with tree-lined streets and homes built in the sixties, Tunstill made a circle that was comprised of neat lawns and well-kept homes.
The house at 412 was a redbrick ranch-style, with white shutters and a two-car garage. A large For Sale By Reliable Realty sign perched in the center of the green lawn.
Dane pulled the rental car into the driveway, parked and got out. Annie followed him up onto the front porch and to the door. Dane rang the doorbell. No answer. He tried the storm door. Locked.
“Let’s try the back door,” he said as he stepped off the porch and rounded the side of the house.
He knocked at the back door. Nothing. He knocked again. Harder. “Mrs. Edwards?” he called.
Annie peeped into the kitchen window. “Furniture and appliances are all there, but there aren’t any lights on.”
“The electricity is still connected,” Dane said. “They haven’t pulled the meter.”
When Dane and Annie came around the side of the house, a tall, slender, redheaded woman waved at them from the front porch of the house next door. Annie waved back at her.
“Nobody’s there,” the redhead said. “If you want to see the house, you’ll have to call the Realtor.”
“We’re looking for Mrs. Edwards and her daughter, Rene,” Dane said.
The woman shrank back into the afternoon shadows falling across her porch. “Mrs. Edwards died a few months ago and Rene…she…Rene’s selling the house.”
“Do you know where we can reach Rene?” Annie asked.
“She moved. Left the state,” the woman said.
“Do you have any idea where she moved?” Dane asked.
Before the woman could reply, a burly, partially balding man joined her on the porch. “My wife and I don’t know anything,” he said. “Rene didn’t tell us anything!”
“In case you remember something, you can contact us at the Serenity Inn downtown,” Dane said. “My name is Dane Carmichael and I’m a private investigator.”
“I told you—we don’t know anything!” The man grabbed his wife’s arms, urged her back into the house and slammed the door.
“Well, what do you think that was all about?” Annie shared a they-know-something glance with Dane.
“Let’s check with a few other neighbors and then go by Reliable Reality to see what they can tell us.”
Five hours later, after questioning neighbors, checking with the Realtor, and exploring every possible avenue to unearth Rene Edwards’s whereabouts, Annie and Dane checked into the Serenity Inn in downtown Rogersville.
Annie dropped down on the bed, kicked off her shoes and fell backward. “Well, we accomplished a whole hell of a lot today, didn’t we?” she said sarcastically.
“There’s something very wrong with the scenario,” Dane said as he removed his jacket, hung it over a chair and sat. “Rene Edwards seems to have vanished off the face of the earth. She put her house up for sale and didn’t even leave the Realtor a number where she can be reached.”
“That is very odd.” Annie closed her eyes and sighed as fatigue overcame her. “Mrs. Freeberg said that Rene told her that she’d contact her when she got settled.”
“And that was nearly three weeks ago.” Annie
dragged a pillow from beneath the spread, doubled it over and stuck it under her head. “Wonder why she was in such a hurry?”
“Good question. One I wish I knew the answer to. If I did, we might be able to figure out if there’s any connection between Martin Edwards’s suicide and Halley Robinson’s murder.”
“What are we going to do now?” Annie asked.
“Go back to Florence in the morning.” Dane loosened his tie, removed it, tossed it on the small table beside him and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. “I’ll call Denby and have her contact an Ohio investigation agency to see if they can do some legwork for us.”
“I’m beat,” Annie said. “My feet ache, my back aches, and I’ve got the beginning of a headache.”
“Why don’t you take a shower and go to bed?” Dane smiled mischievously. “I’ll be glad to join you in the shower and wash your back. And later…”
“A tempting offer.” Annie rolled off the bed, stood and sauntered over to Dane. She slid down onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. When she rubbed her cheek against his, she groaned and pulled away. “You shave first and then you can scrub my back.”
When she tried to stand, Dane pulled her back onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve never had a, uh, a physical relationship with a client before. And getting intimately involved with you is wrong, but—”
Annie covered his mouth with her hand. “But you can’t help yourself any more than I can.” She gave him a quick kiss, then smiled as she laid her head on his shoulder. “We’ve got it bad, you know. We’re going to have to work this out of our systems and the only way to do that is by having sex as many times as it takes for the fire to burn itself out.”
“I like that idea.” Dane cupped her breast and squeezed gently.
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