Out for Justice

by Susan Kearney

  “What would you like first? Food? Coffee? A hot bath?”

  “Do you have any juice?” Her eyes sparkled and she headed through the living room and straight to the double glass sliding doors, curiosity in her expression. “This where you keep the hot tub?”

  “Yeah.” He turned on the DVD, wishing Reba’s rich croon would calm his traitorous body, then poured two glasses of juice. Pretending that Andrew was here wasn’t working. Neither was pretending that she was simply a woman he’d brought home from the saloon. Because there was nothing simple about Kelly McGovern. Another woman might be moaning and groaning over her bruises. Another woman might run home to daddy. Another woman wouldn’t make herself so damn at home that he felt as if he was the intruder. “Give me a minute to get robes and towels.”

  Retrieving the items only took seconds, but he took a moment to lean back against a wall in his darkened hallway, close his eyes and calm his pounding pulse. He drew in a deep breath, and Kelly’s tantalizing scent, both feminine and earthy, wafted in through the open doors on a breeze. Reminding himself that she wasn’t there for romantic purposes did nothing to cool his ardor.

  He wished he could attribute his reaction to the near-death experience. But the truth was that he’d liked her a long time. Although he’d never expected to entertain her in his home, his body seemed to be acting on an accumulation of moments they’d spent together over the years. Moments he hadn’t given much significance to until now.

  He heard a splash and envisioned her trailing her perfectly manicured nails through the heated water, dipping in a delectable toe and ankle before lowering herself inch by delectable inch into the water. Most likely he had no trouble envisioning her, since he’d seen her swimming at Half-Moon Lake. Was that a sigh of contentment he heard over Reba’s melody?

  But sharing lake water and his hot tub were two different things. Having her in his home guaranteed he wouldn’t sleep tonight. But he’d had no choice.

  At least here he could offer her some measure of protection. The house had a decent alarm system, and if anyone showed, they’d have to go through him to get to her. He wouldn’t have allowed her to go outside alone, except the backyard was fenced. Besides, whoever had been after them this afternoon probably didn’t yet know their plan had failed. While he fully expected another attempt on their lives, he figured their enemy wouldn’t regroup this soon.

  Still, he intended to be prepared. His skilled fists and the knife he kept strapped to his ankle might not be good enough protection. Carrying the towels and robes over one arm, two juice glasses in his hands and a shotgun under his other arm, he headed out onto his deck.

  It was black outside with low, threatening thunderclouds blocking any sight of the moon. But the deck lights that absorbed solar energy during the day and emitted soft blue lighting after dark allowed him to see her. Just as he’d suspected, she was already soaking in the tub, her head tilted back, her chin pointed upward, her eyes closed. Every inch the pampered princess, she spoiled the image by shoving a lock of hair from her eyes and revealing a dark smudge that at first he thought was a shadow, but upon inspection proved to be a bruise. She’d be lucky if she didn’t have a gigantic shiner under her eye tomorrow.

  What was he thinking? She was banged up and hurting and here he was standing salivating over her when she required medical attention. Alcohol to clean her cuts. At the very least, some painkillers.

  “I’ll be right back.” He set the robe and towels nearby, braced the shotgun within easy reach of the tub and headed inside. Opening his freezer, he grabbed a handful of ice which he wrapped inside a clean hand towel.

  What else? Aspirin.

  When he returned to the patio, she hadn’t moved one inch. But her lips parted into a grin. “This is heaven.”

  No, heaven would be taking her into his arms, tasting her lips, massaging her shoulders. He’d been about to climb into the tub and join her but found himself hesitating.

  While he couldn’t see her body, just knowing about her lack of clothing had heat flushing his neck. He didn’t want her to know how he was reacting to her, but hiding his arousal didn’t seem possible without his body cooperating.

  And for some reason that part of his anatomy had developed a sudden rebellious streak. Down boy.

  He stalled for time and sipped some apple juice. He rarely drank alcohol. With his family’s drinking history, he preferred not to test his susceptibility to addiction, so he was perfectly happy with the juice and handed her a glass of her own.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, her tone throaty and low.

  When their fingers touched just briefly, the heat from her flesh darted up his arm and then swooped straight to his lower regions. Gritting his teeth, he backed away, determining that surely distance would allow him to regain a measure of control.

  She peered over her juice glass. “Aren’t you joining me?”

  “One of us has to stand guard.”

  She sipped her juice and rested the glass on the edge of the redwood tub. Her hold on the glass might be delicate but her tone was anything but. “Let me get this straight. You’re standing guard because you think I’m going to attack you?”

  He chuckled. “That thought never crossed my mind.”

  But at her erotic suggestion, his thoughts frothed enthusiastically. What he wouldn’t give to have her attack him. He imagined wet, slick flesh pressing him down, her mouth, hot and seeking, taking exactly what she wanted.

  She frowned at him. “You’re standing guard because you want to impress me with your…equipment?”

  Her husky voice and her sweet scent had made him forget that she possessed a truly sharp mind and that the double entendre had no doubt been deliberate. Of course, his forgetfulness might also have something to do with knowing that she sat fewer than two feet from him—without a stitch of clothing on. Or it might be that he knew she wouldn’t object to him climbing right into the tub with her, sitting so close their breaths would mingle, their thighs would touch.

  No, he couldn’t risk it.

  Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and he took another sip of juice. “In case you’ve forgotten, someone wants to kill us. We can’t let down our guard.”

  “Oh, really?” Her voice tied him in knots with her skepticism. “You thought it was safe enough to let me come out here without you, and now you’re trying to tell me that you need to stand guard, like my ancestor Shotgun Sally’s lover, Zachary Gale, once did when he protected her from Indians? I don’t think so.”

  “What’s with your family’s obsession with that particular ancestor?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Andrew told me he wanted to fall in love with the same passion that Zachary loved his Sally.”

  “Some families can trace their ancestors back to kings and queens. Some claim fame by tracing their genealogy back to the Mayflower. In my family we’re proud to be descendants of Shotgun Sally.”

  “But she wasn’t nobility. Legends say she was a rebel. You really think you’re one of her descendants?”

  “Yes. And stop changing the subject.”

  She’d caught him. “Huh?”

  “Don’t ‘huh’ me. You know I find that particular ancestor fascinating, so you deliberately tried to distract me from your lack of courage.”

  He choked on the juice and set it down. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m finding your illogical statements absolutely fascinating. Admit it. You don’t want to climb into this tub with me.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. I don’t want to climb into the tub with you.”

  “Ah,” she sipped her juice, her delicate neck tempting his fingers to stroke. “What about if I promise not to bite?”

  He didn’t answer with words but gave in to temptation and placed his hands on her shoulders. The pulse at her neck leaped, but she held perfectly still as if a movement might break the mood. Standing behind her, he allowed himself the pleasure of kneading away the knots and the tense muscles, sooth
ing sore tendons. Her skin beckoned him to touch, to smooth, to soothe.

  “Mmm,” she sighed. “You feel so good, I’ll give you an hour to stop that.”

  “And when the hour’s up, you’ll be putty in my hands?” he teased.

  “Something like that.” She swirled the liquid in her glass. “So what’s the real reason you won’t get in this tub with me?”

  No way was he answering her question. He removed his hands from her shoulders, stopping the massage. His fingers tingled with sorrow at the sudden lack of her warmth, but he forced them to reach for the washcloth filled with ice instead.

  “Where’s that knot on your head?”

  She touched the tender spot and winced. “Here.”

  “This should keep down the swelling.” Gently he placed the icy cloth on the lump.

  “It’s cold.”

  “Ice usually is,” he agreed.

  “I liked the massage better.”

  “I’m sure you did. After a while we need to move this to the bruise by your eye.”

  “But—”

  “Think how bad you’re going to feel when you look in the mirror at your big black eye or if this lump swells to the size of a grapefruit.”

  “Not funny. We could have died today, and I decided that since we lived, we should really live.” She smiled and sipped her juice. “Maybe you should kiss me where I hurt and make me all better?”

  Chapter Five

  Kelly stretched and then winced at several sore muscles. But as she awakened in Wade’s guest room where she’d slept alone, and recalled last night, she frowned over her behavior. What had happened to the conservative college graduate who was supposed to be spending the summer deciding between a career in law or real estate? Andrew’s murder had not only devastated her but taken her to another place.

  She couldn’t blame a nonalcoholic beverage for her behavior toward Wade, but she must not have been herself or she never would have been so forward. She’d played reluctant to spend the night at his home while riding in the back of the squad car, but Wade hadn’t pursued her flirtation as she’d hoped. So she’d changed tactics, and never had she acted so boldly in her life. She wished her excuse was that it wasn’t every day she came so close to dying. However, instead of her entire life passing in front of her eyes, she’d seemed able to momentarily set aside everything but her building feelings for Wade. She’d heard of men and women who tossed away their value of abstinence before a partner went s off to war. But she didn’t even have that excuse. She’d made all those inviting remarks to Wade after she’d known she was safe.

  On top of the danger, the hot tub had relaxed her to a state where she’d cut loose her inhibitions like a thirty-pound anchor and sailed onward steered by nothing but pure feminine instinct. Okay, she wasn’t surprised that she had those impulses. The real shocker was that she’d acted on them while right in the middle of trying to find out who had killed her brother. She felt guilty as hell for reaching out to Wade when Andrew was dead. And yet her brother would have understood her need to connect with a man she liked and respected at a time when she was emotionally shaky. If Andrew had still been alive he would have told her there was nothing wrong with giving and receiving comfort. And while she’d once wondered if her attraction to Wade might have been a longing to hang on to memories of Andrew, she now knew better. She liked Wade, liked the way he treated her.

  Her feelings toward Wade seemed to have done a complete 180 in a very short time. Until Andrew’s death, Wade had always irritated her, but perhaps she just hadn’t recognized the simmering attraction between them until now, when they were sharing so much time together. So her boldness hadn’t come out of nowhere but was an accumulated buildup that had reached the do-something-about-it stage, allowing her to make the first move. Although she wasn’t sure herself how far she’d intended to go, her invitation had been unmistakable.

  And then, after she’d gone and overcome inclinations she’d suppressed for a lifetime, Wade hadn’t even joined her in the tub.

  He’d acted the perfect gentleman. Damn him. She not only felt like a fool, she had no idea how she would face him this morning. Pretend none of it had happened? She could go with that option. Pretend his rejection didn’t matter? But that would be a mockery of her own feelings, and she wouldn’t do it.

  However unaccustomed she was to being the aggressor, however much she’d been taught to play the flirtatious Southern belle and to practice come-hither looks, she’d enjoyed the part of pursuer and wasn’t so sure she wanted to give up the role. Failure didn’t sit well with her at any time, never mind with something as important as getting to know Wade better. The fact that he was so valiantly resisting only increased her determination.

  She needed a game plan. Obviously some new clothes. She couldn’t decide which outfit he’d liked best yesterday, the business, the casual or the sexy one. His eyes had seemed to caress her no matter what she’d worn.

  Double damn him.

  As Kelly sat up in the double bed in Wade’s guest room, she marveled at her extraordinary thoughts. Was she really changing so much that she planned to make another move on the guy? More likely she was simply allowing her real self to come out of hiding. The notion both pleased and scared her, and made her think she might have more in common with Andrew than she’d thought. Perhaps going slowly and feeling her way into a relationship with Wade would be prudent. On the other hand, she’d known him for years.

  While she could still recall Cara’s warnings about the dangerous Wade Lansing, her friend didn’t know the man raised orchids. Or read books. Or acted the perfect gentleman. Besides, that edge of danger added a spark of excitement to their exchanges. She never quite knew what he would do next.

  She sighed and padded to the bathroom. Last night, before she’d slipped under the covers, she’d called her parents and told them she wouldn’t be home just yet. She’d rinsed out her underwear and hung them up to dry. Only, they were still damp and she couldn’t bring herself to wear them. So she used the new toothbrush Wade had provided and donned her shirt and jeans.

  Following her nose into the kitchen and the scent of perking coffee, she stepped over to the table. Wade sat tilted back on the rear legs of his chair, reading his newspaper. The moment he spied her, he put down the Mustang Gazette and leaned forward, his full attention almost making her self-conscious. He took in her finger-brushed hair and the slight bruise under her eye, and then his gaze swept over her chest, his pupils dilating slightly.

  So, he’d noticed her lack of underwear. Served him right. She hoped naughty thoughts sucked the moisture right out of his mouth.

  She grinned at him. “Morning.”

  “Morning.”

  Whether his voice was usually this husky in the morning or due to her lack of attire, she couldn’t say. Pleased with herself, she walked over to the kitchen counter. “Can I have some coffee or are you going to hog it all to yourself?”

  He ducked his head back into the newspaper. “Mugs are in the cabinet to the left of the sink.”

  He might be pretending to read, but she knew her braless state had thrown him, and swallowed down another smile. While she hadn’t gone without underwear to distract him, she couldn’t have planned better if she’d laid out a seduction campaign.

  She filled a mug and sat across the table from him. He handed her the local section and they sat together reading like an old married couple. Well, not quite. Going by her parents’ marriage, married people didn’t usually have this kind of sexual tension humming between them, especially this early in the morning.

  The coffee chased away the last of her sleepiness. “I’d like to ride out again today and see Debbie West, her family and her ranch.”

  “Well, we can’t take my truck.” Was that a blush creeping up his neck? “It’s either your Jag or…”

  “Or?” she prodded, curious about the color in his face.

  “The Caddy.”

  “You have a Cadillac?”

 
; “I inherited Betsy from my uncle. Actually, Betsy was his wife’s car. After she died, he couldn’t part with it. And I’ve kept the car in storage all these years, but she runs just fine.”

  He didn’t squirm in his seat, but he most definitely fidgeted. A man who grew orchids in his kitchen and was nostalgic over an old car—who would have thought Wade capable of such sentimentality?

  She savored the jolt of her morning caffeine and asked, “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “If we take Betsy, we won’t be going incognito. She was built in 1955.”

  “Oh.”

  “And my aunt painted her hot pink.”

  “Wait a second. Isn’t that the same car that used to be on the roof of the Hit ’Em Again?” She recalled the ridiculous pink car with the passion-purple banners and balloons that had been a Mustang Valley landmark for the better part of her childhood.

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “But the city inspectors made us take Betsy down. They said the car could fall on someone. Mayor Daniels probably just thought old Betsy was ugly.”

  “I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  He scowled at her. “Stop that.”

  “What?” She kept her eyes wide and, hopefully, innocent looking.

  His mouth curled upward in one of his irresistible bad-boy smiles that she couldn’t help but find charming. “How can I argue with you if you stubbornly insist on agreeing with me?”

  She raised her coffee cup to him in a toast. “You’ve made your point. But if you think that wisecrack remark is going to get me to agree with everything you say, then you don’t know me very well.”

  “I know you better than you think.”

  “Really?”

  “I know that you have a much better brain than most people give you credit for. And while you take pleasure in your fashion-plate clothing, substance is more important to you than image.”