by Sherri Hayes
At twelve thirty, Megan whipped them up a quick lunch, and then marched the little girl upstairs to clean up. While Chloe was washing her face and brushing her teeth, Megan packed Chloe’s suitcase. Other than clothes and the stuffed bear she slept with, there wasn’t much to take. Cindy and George kept toys at their house, and Megan had no doubts that more would be added to their collection over the next three weeks. Grandparents spoiled their grandchildren—or at least, that was how it was supposed to be.
Promptly at two, there was a knock on the door. Chloe ran to answer it, not waiting for Megan. With her grandmother here, Chloe was full of energy.
She wrapped her arms around Cindy’s waist. “Grandma!”
Cindy laughed. “Oh, my. Let me have a look at you. I think you’ve grown two inches since the last time I saw you.”
Megan brought all of Chloe’s things downstairs, and then asked if she wanted to say goodbye to her dad. Without giving a verbal response, the little girl took off up the stairs toward Paul’s bedroom. Megan was hot on her heels, but even still, Chloe reached Paul’s door first. “Chloe.”
At the sound of her name, she stopped, and looked wide-eyed at Megan.
“It’s okay, honey, just try to remember your daddy is sick.”
Chloe looked down.
Megan sighed, and knocked on the door before pushing it open.
Paul turned his head and opened his eyes. When he saw Chloe, he smiled. “Hi, sweetpea.”
“Hi, Daddy.” Chloe twisted her fingers together, and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“Cindy’s downstairs, and Chloe wanted to come up and say goodbye before they leave,” Megan said when she saw a crease beginning to form in Paul’s brow.
“Oh.” He glanced over at the clock. “I didn’t realize how late it was. Did you get all your cookies made?”
“We made lots, and lots, and lots of cookies, Daddy. We’s taking some to Grandpa.”
“That’s very nice of you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
Paul coughed, which led to another deeper cough.
Megan knew it was time for them to go and let Paul get back to recovering. “We need to say goodbye and let your daddy rest. Plus, I’m sure your grandma has lots of fun stuff planned for you. You don’t want to miss that, do you?”
Chloe looked up at Megan, and she ran a gentle hand through the little girl’s hair. There was so much in Chloe’s eyes—more than there should be in someone so young. Two seconds later, Chloe practically hurled herself at her father’s blanket-covered legs. She hugged him tight, and Paul reached down to brush his fingers along her forehead.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too, Chloe.” She turned her head to look at him, but didn’t let go. “Be good for your grandma and grandpa.”
It nearly broke Paul’s heart to watch as Megan coaxed Chloe away from him and out of the room. He could see she was torn. She wanted to go with Cindy, but she didn’t want to leave him. Whether he liked it or not, Megan and Cindy were right. Chloe would be better off with her grandparents. The longer she stayed in the house, the more likely she’d get sick, too.
He must have drifted off to sleep because the next time he opened his eyes, it was dark out. His throat was dry, and he was starving. Paul figured it was a good sign that he was hungry. Maybe he would be back to work sooner than he’d thought.
Kicking the covers off him, Paul shuffled to the bathroom and then made his first trek outside his bedroom since coming home from work over twenty-four hours before.
It was after midnight and the house was quiet. Megan was asleep. She’d left her door open—something she didn’t normally do—probably thinking it would be easier for her to hear him.
Paul was careful not to make too much noise as he crept down the hall, but he couldn’t help but pause at her door. The room was clothed in shadow, but he could clearly see the outline of her figure lying in the bed. Megan was full of contradictions. He knew she came from a not-so-pleasant childhood, and yet she was great with his daughter.
She’s great with you, too.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he inhaled, he caught Megan’s scent. It was somewhere between lilac and cherry. He didn’t know if it was a perfume she wore or what, but she always had a hint of it surrounding her.
Before he could get lost in memories, Paul backed away from the doorway, and continued downstairs to the kitchen. Everything was neatly put away, and he was easily able to find leftovers to warm up in the microwave. Megan was taking such good care of him, and it made what he was feeling for her that much more complicated. If it was only physical attraction, he could deal with that. But it wasn’t only physical. He liked her. He enjoyed spending time with her.
As Paul sat in the darkened kitchen eating the soup he knew Megan most likely made just for him, he considered his options. He still didn’t think he was good enough for her—or anyone, for that matter—but although Megan knew what he’d done, she didn’t seem to agree. Could he give a relationship with her a chance? Would it work, or was he setting them both up for failure? He was thirty-six years old. She was twenty-three. Did they even want the same things?
All the questions were making his head hurt, so he decided to put off any more contemplation until he was feeling better. It wasn’t as if anything could happen while he was feeling like he was, anyway.
Putting everything away, Paul trudged back up the stairs, and tumbled into his bed. He popped a few more pills and rolled over, closing his eyes against the pain. Everything else would have to wait until morning.
Over the next thirty-six hours, Paul began to feel somewhat normal again. He no longer felt as if he’d been beaten and left for dead. His muscles ached, but it was more like something one would experience after a good hard workout.
Megan took her role of caregiver seriously. She hadn’t been pleased that he’d awakened the other night and gone downstairs for food. He’d been given a nice little lecture about letting people take care of him. Was that something all women learned how to do? Did they teach it in school or something? He could have sworn he’d received a similar lecture from both Melissa and his mother at various times in his life.
As it was, Paul didn’t want for much of anything. Megan made sure he had food, water, cough syrup, pain medication, and anything else she thought he might need. The only problem with all her attention was that as he started to feel better, he began craving other things. She’d go to plump up his pillows and her breasts would come within inches of his face. There was a time or two when he came close to pulling her top out of the way and sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. Knowing exactly how it would feel and taste made it doubly tempting.
He’d been home for three days when his partner showed up bearing gifts.
“I thought you’d be climbing the walls by now.”
Paul sat up as Janey strolled across the room. “Megan brought over the TV from her room for me to watch. Not much on during the day, but it’s better than staring at the ceiling.”
Janey sat down on the edge of the bed and handed him a thick folder. “I have to go to court this afternoon, so I thought I’d bring the file over for you. I looked at it until my head hurt, but I’m not finding many patterns.”
“But you’re finding some?”
She shrugged. “Just the usual. They all lived or worked within a twenty-mile radius, so most of them went to the same stores. There is overlapping, but nothing I can find that screams it may be the place they attracted the attention of a serial killer.”
He opened the folder and paged through some of Janey’s notes. “A pattern is a pattern.”
“True, but I’m not finding anywhere all these women went a day, a week, two weeks before they were killed. It’s possible this guy is picking his victims and then watching them until the time is right. If that’s the case, it’s going to make him harder to track. Considering he’s killing about every two months, I have to think he’s p
icking his victims with some degree of frequency.”
Paul nodded. “I agree. There has to be a pattern. We just aren’t seeing it yet.”
Janey let him look over the file for a few minutes before she shifted her weight, getting his attention. “So. How are things going with the nanny?”
He rolled his eyes. “None of your business.”
She laughed. “That good, huh?”
Paul grunted.
“A little piece of advice—”
“I don’t need any advice on my personal life.”
“Oh, but I think you do. Besides, I’m going to give it to you anyway, whether you want it or not.” Janey looked over her shoulder, and then back to him. “If you like her, then you should go for it. Chloe likes her, and I’ve seen some of those looks she gives you. What do you have to lose?”
“It’s not that easy, Davis.”
“Why the hell not? Don’t tell me you’re not attracted to her.”
“It’s not—”
“Exactly. So suck it up and ask the girl out. You do remember how to do that, right?”
Paul snorted. “Yeah. I’m not that old and decrepit.”
She patted his leg. “I didn’t think so.”
Janey stood and sighed. “As much as I’d love to stay and give you more grief, I need to get to the courthouse. Call me later if you need anything. Or if you find something.”
“I will.”
Paul spent the next several hours going over the case file. Janey was right. Although there were patterns, they weren’t ones that stood out or screamed a connection. All of the women had been to the same grocery store in the last six months, but only three went on a regular basis, and one hadn’t been to the store for four months before she was killed. While they would follow up on the lead, it was most likely a dead end.
When Megan brought his dinner, Paul set the folder aside. “Smells good.”
Megan smiled and sat down on the bed. He could feel the heat of her body as it pressed against his leg. As usual, he was hyperaware of her.
“Is that what Detective Davis brought over earlier?” Megan asked.
He glanced at the file, and then took a bite of his food before answering. “Yeah. She’s hoping maybe I can see something she’s missing. Fresh eyes and all that.”
“This is the serial killer?”
Although Paul didn’t discuss the details of his cases with Megan, the murders had made the news, and she knew he had been assigned to the case. “Yes.”
She nodded and bit the side of her lip.
Needing to touch her, Paul reached out and took hold of her hand. “What is it?”
She met his gaze. “Did you want me to cancel my trip? I can stay here. It’s not a big—”
“No. Go. You need to spend time with your sister.” He saw by the scowl on her face that she was going to protest. “And I need to catch up on the work I missed. With Chloe gone, I’ll probably be pulling twelve to fifteen hour days for the next week.”
Megan nodded. “All right.”
Paul couldn’t help the pull he felt toward her, and how right it felt to hold her hand like he was. A surge of warmth raced through his body, and he wondered if maybe he was making the wrong decision. Maybe he could try . . .
No. It would never work between them. They were too different, and he was . . .
Paul looked down at their hands intertwined together, and it was hard to remember his arguments. He had to hold firm. It was for the best. He had to keep telling himself that.
Chapter 14
Sunday morning arrived before Megan knew it, and she was packing up her things for her trip that afternoon. Paul was feeling much better, although his cough lingered. The last two days had been interesting. She wasn’t sure what to make of Paul’s apparent one-eighty.
Okay, so not much had changed. It wasn’t as if he’d declared his undying love to her or anything, but he was different. When he’d joined her in the kitchen for dinner the night before, the wall that always seemed to separate them wasn’t there. Maybe it was only the lack of Chloe’s presence. Megan was trying not to read too much into it and get her hopes up.
“Are you about ready?”
Megan glanced up to see Paul’s figure framed in her doorway. He’d gone into work for a few hours the day before, but was staying home this morning so that he could take her to the airport.
She smiled and made a final check of her suitcase. “I think so. If I forgot something, I’m sure Gage or Rebecca can run me to the store.”
Paul strolled into the room as Megan zipped up her luggage. He picked up the suitcase and started for the door.
“I can get that, you know.”
He looked back at her and smiled. “So can I.”
Megan rolled her eyes. Since he’d started feeling better, Paul had been insistent that he could do for himself. She supposed this was his way at realigning the scales, so to speak.
It was nearly a half hour drive to the airport. Megan spent most of that time staring out the window and tapping her fingers against her leg.
“You all right?” Paul asked.
She turned her head to look at him. “Yeah. It’s just . . . I’ve only flown once before. I guess I’m nervous.”
Paul nodded. “It’s been years since I’ve flown. I don’t mind it, but it’s not my favorite thing either.”
“I was in Oklahoma. My boyfriend at the time wanted to go see one of his friends play in New York City.” Megan’s voice trailed off as she let that piece of information hang in the air. That time and place in her life felt like a lifetime ago.
“We took a trip to New York when I was a kid, but I don’t remember much.”
Megan nodded. “I don’t remember much either.”
Paul glanced over at her and frowned.
She shrugged. It wasn’t as if she had tried to hide her past. “I remember the airport, and taking the subway to this rat-infested motel. Billy and his girlfriend were there. They’d brought booze, and . . .”
“And?”
“And . . . we partied. A lot.” Megan tried to downplay it, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on what could happen in a hotel room with two guys, two girls, and a whole lot of alcohol.
She should have known better.
“Define partied.”
His voice had an edge to it, but she couldn’t tell if he was upset, hurt, or . . . well, she had no idea. Either way, she was determined to be honest with him. “We got drunk and fooled around.”
“As in . . . had sex.” This time she didn’t miss how he gritted his teeth as he spoke.
“Yes.”
Paul’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Did you even use protection? What am I thinking? You don’t even remember most of it. How are you going to remember if you bothered to use condoms?”
Okay, that ticked her off. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. “Look, you knew about my past. I made no secret of how wild I used to be. I made some stupid mistakes. I know that. I don’t need you telling me how dumb I was.”
He was silent for several minutes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I have no right to make judgments. Especially on something that happened years ago.”
Although she wanted to be mad, she didn’t want to leave him for a week with an argument hanging between them. “Apology accepted.”
They approached the exit sign for the airport, and Paul took a deep breath. “Gage and Rebecca are picking you up in Nashville?”
“Yeah. They’re meeting me in baggage claim.” Megan smiled. “I wonder how big Becca’s tummy is now? All she had was a little bump the last time I saw her, but she’s got to be bigger now.”
“She’s what—about six months along?”
“Yep. So she should have a belly for sure.”
Paul laughed, and it was good to hear. Unfortunately, that segued into a coughing fit.
Megan dug into her purse and found a cough drop. “Here.”
He took it and popped it int
o his mouth. His cough subsided as he pulled up to the curb at the airport. “How did you come to have cough drops in your purse?”
She smiled and shrugged. “You never know when they’ll come in handy.”
Paul shook his head, but he was smiling, so she knew all was good.
They both exited the vehicle, and he unloaded her suitcase from the trunk. He set it down on the curb and turned to face her. “Call me when you land?”
Megan nodded. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone, okay?”
“You do the same.”
She knew she needed to go, but there was something stopping her.
Paul glanced up at something over her shoulder, and she could guess that it was the security guard coming to tell him he needed to move his vehicle.
Before she could overthink it, Megan closed the distance between them and planted a solid kiss on Paul’s lips.
When she backed away, taking her suitcase with her, Megan couldn’t help but revel in that little thrill she got at the stunned look on his face. “I’ll see you in seven days. Don’t forget me.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Megan giggled, and waved as she walked through the glass doors. She would miss Paul, but more importantly, she hoped he would miss her. If he didn’t, that meant he probably didn’t feel as strongly for her as she did for him. It didn’t mean he never would, but it would make what she wanted more difficult to achieve.
She got her ticket and made her way through security. It was a little different than she remembered. Then again, she hadn’t been paying much attention to anything other than Dale the last time she’d set foot in an airport. She had been smitten with the wannabe rock star, and at the time, she would have followed him anywhere.
As she found a seat at the gate to wait on her flight, Megan mused over how much her life and her tastes had changed. Looking back, she had trouble seeing what exactly had appealed to her about the bad boys she’d followed across the country. But even as the thought crossed her mind, Megan knew. Freedom. That was what they’d offered her. Or, at least, that’s what she’d thought they’d offered her.