by Julie Miller
Kate heard the words tumble out of her mouth and wished she could pull them back when she saw how Boone’s gaze narrowed and his lips flattened into a grim line. It was so rare for her to misspeak like that, to utter words without thinking of the consequences, that it shocked her into silence. Had that been Brad’s excuse for his affair with Vanessa? He couldn’t help who he fell in love with? What lies had he told Vanessa about his marriage to Kate? Had Boone’s ex made the same hurtful excuses to him? “I...I’m sorry. I’m sure Janie meant a lot to this man. And I’m sure she didn’t mention him to you because she wanted to spare your feelings.”
“Unlike you.”
She reached for him. “Boone—”
“I’m sorry, too.” He backed away, avoiding her outstretched hand. And then he tipped his face to the evening sky and cursed before nailing her with a raw look. “I can’t do this right now. Every nerve in my body is fried. Give me an hour to decompress if you want me to think straight.” He took a couple of steps toward the barn before looking back over his shoulder at her. “Unless you want to go riding with me?”
Kate’s eyes widened. “On a horse?”
For a moment, his expression darkened, intensified. Kate’s mind leapt to the idea of riding...other things. Her cheeks felt feverish in the cooling air at the thought of helping Boone assuage his grief with something much more intimate than a conversation.
But if he’d been thinking of a roll in the hay, he never let on. He blinked and the invitation she’d imagined seeing there was gone. “That’s generally the way it’s done.”
She couldn’t keep playing these games with him. Barging into her life unannounced. Unexpected kisses. Holding hands, blunt words. He made her say things without thinking and messed up the necessary order of her life. He’d gotten too far into her head already. Way too far.
“If we could just do this now,” she begged, “then I could get back to the city, you could get back to your life and we could both get back to work.”
He strode away, clicking his tongue against his teeth and calling to a big, tan-colored horse in the corral beside the barn. “I need one hour to myself, Doc. Grangeport isn’t that big. I’ll find you when I’m done.”
“Boone—”
“One hour.”
Why was she chasing after him? She forced herself to stop. “Promise?”
He stopped and looked at her then. “Why would I say something if I didn’t mean it?”
“Not everyone who makes a promise keeps it.”
Kate tilted her chin against the brown-eyed scrutiny.
“I do.” He opened the corral gate and grabbed the horse’s halter to lead it into the barn. “I’ll find you in an hour.”
Chapter Six
He didn’t have to look hard to find her.
By the time Boone had rubbed down Big Jim and stowed the tack, night had fallen, and the family and guests from Janie’s reception had all left. In fact, the only vehicle left in the drive was his own black pickup.
So where was Kate?
Boone ran to the house’s mudroom entrance off the kitchen. She’d made such a fuss about him getting back in an hour—okay, so it had been seventy-five minutes—that she’d probably taken off with Spencer Montgomery and gone back to Kansas City. His tardiness was probably all the proof she needed to believe he wasn’t a man of his word.
“Kate?” he shouted. Before he’d taken that ride out to the bluffs and back to clear his head and purge the worst of the sadness and rage that had been simmering beneath the surface all day long, she’d seemed desperate that he keep his promise to return to discuss the task force’s investigation. And she’d seemed equally certain that he wouldn’t. “Kate!”
He tracked his mucky boots straight into the kitchen before he saw her standing at the coffeemaker, pouring a couple of mugs of what smelled like fresh, hot java. The aroma of home-ground beans and the subtler scent of Kate herself filled his nose and drained the fight right out of him.
“You’re here.” He offered the lame greeting, wondering at the relief coursing through his system.
She picked up one mug and carried it across the kitchen to him. “You said you’d come back to talk.”
“I wasn’t sure you believed me.”
“I wasn’t sure I did, either.”
Humbled by her honesty, and determined to convince her that she could count on him to do what he promised, Boone took the mug she offered and took a sip of the fragrant, reviving brew. “Thanks.”
Relieved to know she hadn’t gone and as ready as he was ever going to be to talk about his sister’s secret life, he handed the coffee mug back to Kate and took a few minutes to hang up his hat and jacket, and take off his boots back in the mudroom. After securing his gun and badge in a drawer near the back door, he grabbed the broom and swept his trail out of the kitchen. “If my mother was still alive, she’d have a cow over me tracking this mess into her house.”
He was curiously pleased to notice that Kate hadn’t just made coffee, but had truly made herself at home. She’d kicked off the shoes and hose she’d totaled and was padding around the kitchen in a pair of Boone-sized white socks. When she saw him watching her feet, she thinned her mouth into an apology. “I hope it’s okay if I borrow these. I found them folded up in the basket in the laundry room. My toes were cold.”
“Not at all.” The cotton socks were an odd contrast to the tailored skirt and blouse she still wore, but he liked the homey, not quite so uptight, twist to her wardrobe. Even something as unsexy as a pair of socks perked up his awareness of Dr. Kate. Could be it was just a little rush of possessive appreciation at the idea of her wearing his clothes. He crossed to the polished oak table where she’d put his mug of coffee. She’d set a place for her mug and cell phone at the opposite end. Just two place settings. Good. “Where’s Montgomery?”
She stood at the microwave, watching a plate with a paper towel draped over it spin around. “He went with your brother Lucas to a place called Nettie’s for dinner.”
“It’s a bar up in town that serves sandwiches and appetizers.”
The microwave dinged, and she plucked out the steaming paper towel and tossed it into the trash beneath the sink. “I cleaned up a bit and made up a plate of leftovers for you, in case you were hungry, too.” She set the plate of casserole samplings on the table and gestured for him to sit. “I know at events like this, the host doesn’t usually eat much.”
“I didn’t. Thanks.” He waited for her to sit before he picked up his fork and joined her. She wound her fingers around her mug to warm them while he tasted the cheesy mac and beef and something crunchy with an Oriental tang. He hoped she’d eaten while he was out. He hoped she was ready for the question that had been nagging at him since he’d saddled Big Jim. “So why don’t you trust me, Doc?”
“Oh, it’s...” green eyes met his across the length of the table, then discovered something fascinating in the depths of her coffee “...it’s not you.”
Boone took another bite. “So who do you trust?”
Her gaze searched the cabinets now. “I don’t suppose you have any tea instead of coffee around here, do you?”
“Nobody, huh?”
The mossy-green eyes found him again, conceding trust issues. He had to give the woman credit. Whatever thoughts were running through her head looked like they were pretty tough to sort through. But she wasn’t shying away from them.
“Flint told me about your wife—your ex-wife,” she amended. “I wanted to apologize for those things I said before at the barn. I know how it feels, when the person you love and have pledged your life to cheats on your marriage. I was letting some of my own feelings get into the mix, and my words wound up being hurtful, and I’m sorry.” Irene’s infidelity was old news. He appreciated the apology, but hearing some selfish lowlife had treated Kate the same way? Boone stabbed his fork in a meatball and waited to hear the rest. “I, um—the reason Vanessa Owen and I were arguing outside my office, why we don’t g
et along well is—”
“Was she the other woman?”
“Yes. And I felt particularly stupid about the affair because I didn’t find out about it—I had no clue—until my husband had a heart attack and died while he was...in bed with her.”
“That’s rough.” Boone forgot the food and reached across table to pry her hand off the coffee she held. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, concerned by the chill he felt there despite the warm mug. “I wondered about your husband. You’re too smart and too pretty to have never been attached to anyone. He’s the stupid one, if you ask me.”
“Thanks.” She turned her hand in his. “I think the same way about Irene.” Her mouth softened with half a smile. “I spent half an hour talking to her and Fletcher, and somehow the conversation always came around and ended up being about him.”
Kate’s smile triggered one of his own. “Self-centered jerk.”
Tiny lines crinkled beside her eyes when she laughed. “I think Flint was right. She’s probably bored out of her mind with that guy.”
“I don’t know. She said she was bored here, too.”
“With that gorgeous sunset I saw tonight? And all the friendly people?”
She’d noticed the sunset? Boone laced his fingers together with hers and studied her expression until her cheeks dotted with color and he was certain her appreciation for the scenery around here was genuine. “Maybe you have less in common with my ex-wife than I gave you credit for.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Definitely.”
Despite the blush, an unsmiling gravity returned to her expression. “So, are we okay?”
The glimpse of vulnerability in this normally confident woman touched the places that were raw and hurting inside him. Without releasing her hand, he stood to walk around the table and tug her to her feet. He heard a formal gasp of protest when he palmed either side of her waist and pulled her to him until his thighs could feel the warmth of hers against them. “I want to be more than okay with you, Doc.”
She braced her hands in the middle of his chest and leaned back. “Boone—”
“I know you’re cautious and guarded and like to think things through. But right now I just want to feel.” He smoothed the silky, honey-gold bangs off her forehead and pressed a kiss to one golden brow. “I want to forget all I’ve lost and grab hold of something good.” He watched the caution light go on in those pretty green eyes as he kissed first one cheek and then the other. The pale skin warmed with heat beneath each caress, and the tips of her fingers curled into the muscles of his chest. “I want you to admit that you’re feeling what I’m feeling, and find out what good places those feelings can take us to.”
He dipped his head and pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. They trembled. Parted. He kissed them again.
“I don’t think—”
“Shh.” Boone pushed a finger over her lips. “I don’t want you to think, Doc. Not about how you’ve been hurt in the past, not about how you’re worried you’ll be hurt again. I just want you to feel this moment—be in this moment with me. Trust me. For this moment.”
For an endless second, he thought she might not respond to his request. Then she tilted her eyes to his and nodded beneath his hand.
“Not a word,” he reminded her. He didn’t want logic or fears talking her out of the connection he believed she needed—the same connection he knew he was craving like a thirsty man.
Kate’s lips stretched into a smile beneath his fingertip.
With an approving nod and a grateful smile of his own, Boone removed his finger and leaned down to capture her lips. But Kate slid her arms around his neck and rose up on tiptoe to meet him halfway.
Boone’s mouth opened greedily over Kate’s. She tilted her face to give him access to every warm corner and soft swell of her lips. He felt the tips of her breasts knotting against his chest as she pulled herself closer. His hands found the sleek arch of her back and the womanly flare of her bottom. He lifted, pulled until he could feel her hips flush against his. He dipped his tongue inside her mouth to taste coffee and heat and the shy welcome of her tongue sliding against his.
The emotions of the day, of the entire week, tumbled together inside him and found an outlet in the white-hot fusion of her lips matching every foray of his, and in the needy grabs of her fingers in his hair, beneath his collar, against his feverish skin.
He had no memory of the ice princess who measured every word and controlled every action. This Kate was open and giving and grasping. She was everything he wanted in a woman, everything he needed. Right now. At this moment.
There were no words, no sounds beyond a gasp for breath or hum of pleasure. There was no thought or reason or doubt. There was only feeling.
The spark of attraction that had been there from their first meeting blazed like a lightning storm between them. And the understanding of two wounded souls coming together in healing passion lit up something close to his heart.
A voice from deep inside his head tried to warn him this was too much, too soon. But the whispering voice was drowned out by pain being assuaged, loneliness being cast aside, trust being nourished and mutual desire being given full rein.
Boone’s thighs crowded against Kate’s, backing her up against the table as he plundered her mouth. There was zero chill to her fingers now as she unhooked one button, and then another on his shirt to slip her hands inside and brand his skin.
In one fluid movement, Boone lifted her onto the table. If china rattled or silverware danced, he didn’t hear it. Blind with need, his fingers found the hem of her skirt and tugged it up her legs. Her thighs were smooth and firm, and opened as willingly as her mouth, welcoming him. Boone pushed impossibly closer between them, nestling his swelling heat against hers.
It was hot. It was passionate. It was perfect.
He hadn’t been with a woman for so long. And he couldn’t remember ever wanting to be with one as much as he wanted Kate right now. Right here.
A bell rang in head. A mechanical ding-dong, like the doorbell, only much, much closer.
“What the...?” Boone dragged his mouth away from Kate’s. Who would dare intrude on this moment?
Her breath rushed out in a moist caress against his neck. “Is that...? Where is...?”
He moved his hands to the more neutral location of her back and scanned the kitchen walls and mudroom exit, trying to orient himself to the sound.
“Boone, stop. I need to...” Kate’s breathing was as ragged as his own as she pulled her hands from inside his shirt and scooted off the table, forcing him back half a step.
And then he saw light on Kate’s cell phone. 1 msg Unknown
He picked the phone up off the table before she could get turned around. He stepped back to give them each some room to cool off and reclaim some of the sanity he’d encouraged her to abandon. “Got a secret admirer?” he teased.
She snatched the phone from his hand and turned her back on him, putting the width of the kitchen between them. She was straightening her skirt and blouse, fluffing her hair with her fingers, getting that invisible armor into place before she flipped open the phone.
“Isn’t it a wrong number?” Everything about her reaction to a misdirected text put him on guard. “Doc?”
“Just a sec.”
There was no just a sec. The woman was shaking like an autumn leaf on the wind, despite the determined tilt of her chin. And he didn’t think it all had to do with the aftershocks of that passionate tête-à-tête that he was still recovering from. Boone crept up behind her on silent feet and peered over her shoulder.
You’re not as smart as you think you are, Kate. I will silence you if you don’t stop telling lies.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Boone!”
He plucked the phone from her hand and read the text a second time. There was no mistaking the threat he read there. Message 10 out of 10. He deflected Kate’s hands as she tried to reclaim her phone. Boone scrolled thr
ough her Inbox and found seven previous texts from the same unknown caller. Each message was just as cryptic and venomous and vile as the threat she’d just received.
He caught her wrist when she reached for the phone again and held the evidence up to her face. “These are from him, aren’t they. The Rose Red Rapist? First he vandalizes your car and now he’s stalking you?” He let her pull free and grab the phone from him. “How long has this been going on?”
Her kiss-stained lips and wrinkled skirt warred with the defiance in her eyes. She snapped the phone shut and dropped it into her coat pocket on the back of her chair before facing him. “Every time I appear on television, or I’m quoted in the news—I’ll get two or three texts or calls afterward.”
“And Montgomery knows about these threats, right? He’s putting a stop to them, isn’t he?” Boone raked his fingers through his hair as she set that stoic expression into place. “Doc?”
“I’m developing a relationship with him—”
“With a serial rapist?” Anger and fear and misguided bravery were terrific antidotes for the electricity sparking through his system.
He listened in disbelief to the justification for not actively pursuing the threats or throwing away her phone or at least changing her number. “It’s key to his profile, I believe. It’s a way to smoke him out. He needs to feel superior to strong women—in this case, me. If he fixates on me, then he—”
“He’ll rape and murder you, too.”
“—won’t go after anyone else.” Kate’s tone grew calmer, more articulate with each ludicrous sentence. She reached up to refasten the buttons of his white shirt and smooth the collar back into place. “He’ll expose himself. He’ll make a mistake. We can catch him.”
That gentle touch, which had tamed his impulsive nature before, barely took the edge off his temper. He closed his fingers around her wrists and pulled them away. “I don’t know how Montgomery runs an operation, but here, we do not put innocent people in harm’s way for the sake of the investigation.”