He visibly relaxed. His hand stroked her cheek. “I thought they screamed at the top of their lungs. Or laughed themselves silly.”
“Sometimes.” She couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Did I tell you I love you, Callie Chennault? That I love every golden hair on your head. Every sarcastic remark that comes out of that lush mouth. Every inch of this heavenly body which, by the way, I can’t wait to fit closer to mine.”
“Even my scars?”
He kissed her softly. “Especially your scars. Because they’re a part of you, hon. I love your body and your sense of humor and how smart you are, not just with a snappy comeback at my expense, you know. I’m sorry you suffered the way you have, but in a roundabout way these scars brought you home. To me. And a lifetime of tomorrows.”
He kissed her again, hard and swift. “I’m head over heels for you, sweetheart.” He pulled her close. “And I’m never letting you go.”
Callie’s blood sang as it rushed through her veins. This meant everything to her. “You couldn’t chase me away, La Chappelle. Even if you tried. I’m like that insufferable piece of gum that sticks to your shoe and refuses to come off.”
Nick slid a finger into her. She gasped at the intimate touch.
“I think I’ve got a lock on my target,” he whispered. He stroked her slowly, then quickly, then slowly again, as their passion heated back up. She whimpered and twisted beneath his hand, climaxing with a violent shudder that left her weak as a kitten. Then he held her tightly and rolled so that she was atop him.
He smiled up lazily at her as he lightly rested his hands on her hips. “You’re in charge, Beautiful. Do with me as you wish.”
Callie’s throat tightened. She realized Nick had purposefully put her in the position to control their pace. He wanted her to have confidence in what they were doing. Together. She would be the one at the helm. An overwhelming sense of love and possessiveness flooded her.
She returned his smile. “Then you better hold on. You’re in for the ride of your life, baseball boy.”
She made love to him with an abandon she’d never experienced. She’d never been freer, more open, more a partner to a man than in this single time of making love. And when she came again, with him inside her, she finally understood the beauty of what that meant. She’d experienced little tingles in the past. Having sex made her feel really good at times, like a hard workout brought a great physical rush.
But she’d never had the explosions of wow-ness that she’d heard other women talk about.
With Nick, everything changed. When the waves of pleasure hit, she went with them, clinging to him, treasuring this precious connection they’d made. And after, spent beyond words, she lay curled in the shelter of his protective arms, almost too tired to think.
Except that no one would come between her and this man. She would fight to the death to guard Nick from the killer’s touch of evil. She would be ready for him.
And Callie knew when their inevitable confrontation ended, only one of them would remain standing.
And alive.
Chapter 33
Callie awoke feeling . . . satisfied. Yes, that was the right word. Immensely content. Almost smug, in fact, as she watched the man sleeping next to her.
Any woman in America would recognize that Nick La Chappelle was a twenty on a one-to-ten scale. He oozed sex appeal—even asleep. The thick, dark hair that curled slight at his nape, the high cheekbones and sensual mouth, and the muscled chest her hand now rested on were only the start. Nick was the whole package. Physically beautiful, he was also intelligent and had the most attractive feature a man could possess.
A sense of humor.
She snuggled closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder. Even asleep, he pulled her closer, a small smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
They’d made love three times since yesterday afternoon, each more fulfilling than the last. Callie should be bone tired, but she could’ve run the New York Marathon in record time, she suspected—and this from a girl who hated running with a passion. This athlete-turned-author had turned her life upside down in little more than a week.
And she wouldn’t trade anything for him.
An intense possessiveness crept over her. She had never been the jealous type in the past. Yet she knew from her own experience how someone in the public eye attracted massive attention from the opposite sex. She could handle fans flirting with Nick—as long as none of them took it beyond flirtation. If they did, she realized she would be ready to sweep in like an avenging angel.
Why such an enormous change?
She supposed love did that to people. She—who had never been in love—never gone looking for it, never suspected it would find her here in Aurora—now had given her heart to another. With joy.
It felt good. It felt right. It felt amazing.
She inhaled deeply, getting immense pleasure from Nick’s musky scent. She couldn’t get over the fact that this drop-dead, gorgeous, hot-bodied hunk had proclaimed an old-fashioned commitment to her. Despite all the trouble she was in and all the baggage that came with being associated with someone famous, he’d signed up for the long haul.
She sighed in utter contentment.
His hand suddenly brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. She looked up to find him smiling down at her.
“Sleep well?”
“Yes.” Her insides quivered. Just being near him had her bobbing around like she was a bowl of Jell-O, all boneless and wobbly.
Nick kissed her leisurely, thoroughly, bringing her pulse close to heart attack status. Every touch brought new thrills. And they would have a lifetime together to explore them.
“Hmm,” he said. “You didn’t even leap out of bed to dive for your toothbrush.”
She jerked, realizing that he was exactly right. In every previous relationship, she was always conscious about every small detail. Now, only thoughts of Nick filled her mind.
She played with the hairs on his chest, smoothing them as she spoke. “I guess you’ve turned my head enough so that I didn’t have time to think about it.”
His soulful eyes locked onto hers. “It just took a good Southern boy knowing how to treat you. That’s all.”
But his eyes spoke the unspoken—that they had a connection deeper than anything either had encountered before.
“Hey, you need to get up and do your exercises,” he reminded her. His eyes swept over her playfully. “I can’t have you getting lazy and out of shape on me.”
He kissed her again, and she luxuriated in his taste and touch. “I don’t know if I’ll ever want to get out of bed again.”
He groaned. “Don’t tempt me.” He slipped from the bed. “I’ll go check on Gretchen. I doubt she’ll have time to put you through your paces this morning. She’s probably leaving soon for New York.” He pulled on his jeans as he spoke.
The thought saddened her, the whole mess of worms opened again in her mind. “Okay. I’ll run through what Gretchen calls my basic routine and then shower. I’ll see you in a little while.”
Callie walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Her eyes fell on her image in the mirror. She studied herself intently.
Nothing physically had changed. The ugly scars were still there, evident in their shock of red running along her side. But her attitude toward them had magically changed. She no longer thought of herself as ruined. Embarrassed to be seen by a man. Nick had made it apparent last night that she turned him on, scars or no scars. Confidence shot through her, like an adrenaline high. She finally liked herself again.
And she sure liked that Nick found her attractive.
She did her abbreviated morning yoga routine and quick stretches that Gretchen swore by before she showered and dressed. She figured after her extracurricular workout with Nick
last night that she’d gotten plenty of exercise.
As she approached the kitchen, she heard voices. She pushed open the door to find a full house—Essie bustling around the stove, flipping pancakes and turning bacon while Aunt C praised a top draft pick that had just signed with the Saints. Eric and Gretchen sat next to each other at one end of the table. Nick must have showered, too, since his hair still appeared damp. He was dressed in neatly pressed slacks and a dark blue polo shirt that matched his eyes.
“Callie, love. Come in,” her aunt said when she noticed her hovering in the doorway. “Essie, more pancakes, please. And a cup of hot tea for Callie.”
She sat and her eyes immediately went to Gretchen.
Her friend said, “Eric’s arranged everything. I’m on the 10:10 flight direct to New York. He . . . well, he . . . Uncle Paul . . . will be on the same flight. Everything’s taken care of at home. Eric’s been simply amazing.”
Callie placed a hand over Gretchen’s. “When is the funeral?”
Gretchen took a deep breath. “Day after tomorrow. My aunt and I still have a lot of people to contact. And the department wants to honor him properly since he died in the line of duty.”
“I’m so sorry I can’t be there with you.”
Gretchen shook her head. “Don’t worry about that. And I’ll be back within the next two weeks.” She looked over at Eric.
Callie watched something pass between them. She glanced from Eric to Gretchen, a question on her lips, but Eric answered it for her.
“We might as well tell you now. Gretchen’s bringing all her things back down here when she returns.” He glanced around the table. “It’s a permanent move. And I’m hoping something more permanent will come out of it.” He took Gretchen’s hand and smiled.
Callie glanced over at her aunt and had to hide a smile. Aunt C sat in her wheelchair beaming as if she’d orchestrated the entire match.
They talked amiably while breakfasting, Callandra insisting that Gretchen return to stay at Noble Oaks for as long as she wished. Then Eric glanced at his watch.
“We need to shove off. It’s getting late what with traffic and all.” He stood. “Now Miz C, Callie, the FBI will be here at ten to meet with you and explain how they’ll be running the investigation. Till then, I still have my men on duty out front and behind the house. I’ll be back as soon as Gretchen gets off.
“And Cal—you don’t go anywhere. Period.”
“How about as far as the garden? Please? I need a little fresh air. I’m tired of being cooped up indoors.”
Eric glanced at Nick, who promised his cousin, “I’ll be no more than a stone’s throw away. Guaranteed.”
“Okay. I’ll get the car. Gretchen?”
“I left my purse upstairs. I’ll run get it. Callie?” Gretchen motioned for her to accompany her.
They left the kitchen. She took Gretchen’s hand.
“I know this is a rough time for you, but I’m thrilled that you’ve decided to stay in Aurora. I couldn’t be happier how things are working out between you and Eric. He’s a doll. I know given time, he’ll make you happy.”
“And you have a rather rosy glow about you today,” Gretchen noted.
She couldn’t fight the blush that sprang to her cheeks. “Let’s just say that Nick and I are well suited. In every way.”
“So will you guys stay here, too?”
“Things are so new for us. We haven’t made any long-range plans. I feel certain, though, that we’ll split time between here and New York.”
“I hate leaving in the middle of your therapy. I’ve never abandoned a patient before.”
“Come on, Gretchen. I’m doing so well physically. I can keep up my usual routines while you’re gone, but I feel stronger every day I’m here. I don’t think I’ll need you to play nursemaid anymore.”
Gretchen’s eyes gleamed. “I’m sure Nick will help in providing you a challenging workout if you need it.”
Callie laughed. “Oh, that boy will definitely keep me in shape.”
Gretchen grabbed her purse, and soon they were saying their good-byes. A little prickle of sadness hit her as the car drove off. She waved, a smile on her face despite the awful circumstances of their parting.
“Need a little quiet time?” Nick draped an arm about her shoulders.
“Yeah. A little sunshine and a bench would be nice.”
“I know just the place. It’s one of my favorite spots in Miz C’s garden.”
They walked around to the back of the house and down a cobbled path into the lush greenery of the backyard garden. She froze on the path when she spied a stranger bent over, pulling some weeds from the base of a rosebush.
“It’s okay. He belongs here. He’s the new gardener Essie told us about.” Nick tugged on her. Her legs went rubbery as they moved toward the man. He stood and took a handkerchief out to wipe his forehead. He turned as they approached.
A big smile broke out on his face. “Hi, Nick! Hi, Jessica! I’m Petey.” He thrust out a gloved hand, grinning from ear to ear.
Callie recognized the signs of Down’s syndrome in the gentle giant. She relaxed and returned his smile as she reached for his hand.
“Silly, silly,” Petey said. He pulled off the gardening glove. “Don’t wanna get you dirty. I’m Petey. Pleased to meet ya. I’m helping Miz C. She’s really nice, you know.”
“I sure do,” she said. “She’s my aunt. Are you going to work in her gardens, Petey?”
“Yep. Yep.” He nodded several times. “And I know how to mow and edge and water. I take care of things. Mama says I’m good at taking care of things. Especially flowers. I’m good with flowers. I love flowers, especially yellow. Yellow is my favorite, favorite color.”
“Petey has a real green thumb,” Nick added. “He learns really fast. He’s helped me a few times before with planting and fertilizing.”
“So what do you like to do besides work in the garden, Petey?” she asked.
“I like to eat ice cream and feed the ducks, and I like to watch Jessica. Jessica’s my favorite and favorite of all.” He smiled shyly at her. “You’re pretty. But you look different than on TV. Jessica has really red lips and fluffy hair. That’s a ponytail. Jessica doesn’t wear ponytails.”
“Remember how I told you that this is really Callie? She just make believes she’s Jessica on TV.”
“Uh-huh,” Petey agreed. “I make believe sometimes, don’t I, Nick?”
“You sure do. Hey, we’re going to sit here while you do the things on your list. Can you think of what you’re supposed to do today?”
“I already made my new bed. And I cleaned my bowl. I eat Frosted Flakes every morning. Mama says I have to do that every day before I can go help Miz C. But now I gotta weed these beds, and then I get to mow the front yard. Then I can go home and eat lunch with Mama and watch Jessica. Right? Mama said she would save it for me every day.”
He beamed at Callie. “Mama said you couldn’t be on the show because you came to visit Miz C. She saves shows of you so I can watch them all the time. I don’t like it when you’re not on. I like watching when you come on the TV.” He thought a minute. “Then Mama rides me back here. I get to come back and make the flowers pretty and sleep in my new bed cuz I’m a big boy. I’m learning to be ‘sponsible.”
“Well, you’re doing a great job, Petey,” she told him. “And the flowers you arranged for inside the house are so pretty.”
Nick chimed in. “We’d like to sit here and soak up some sun, Petey. Why don’t you go ahead and mow now in the front so we can have a little peace and quiet? You can finish the weeding after you mow.”
“Okay, Nick.” He loped off.
After he’d gone, Nick said, “I met him in town once at The Sweet Shoppe. He’s Joe Bob Borgan’s boy. He is
passionate about butter pecan ice cream and Jessica. And he really understands flowers. He’s been living at home with his parents up till now. They’re getting on in age, though. I guess maybe they’re trying to help him become a little more independent. The situation working here and having the cottage to go to is perfect.”
“I’m glad he’s here.”
“And I’m glad we’ve got the garden to ourselves.” Nick led her to a bench for two and they sat. Immediately, the sweet smell of roses enveloped them.
Callie lost track of time as they sat there in silence, happy in each other’s company. She guessed Nick was plotting out happenings in his new book.
She, on the other hand, focused on ways to draw out Lipstick Larry.
Chapter 34
She didn’t like Special Agent in Charge Phillips. Not even a little.
Callie’s eyes roamed the room, taking in how Aunt C’s gracious living room furniture had been pushed aside for all kinds of electronic equipment—listening devices, computers with screens and hard drives and printers, card tables setup with area maps that beeped when touched.
And the half-dozen field agents populating the room seemed to have as little personality as Agent Phillips. No, Special Agent in Charge Phillips. He kept saying it that way, so she assumed it was a big deal for a federal agent to carry around that particular title.
Still, he put her on edge. She thought his incessant monologue might cause her to snap any minute now.
She stood. Agent Phillips droned on. She coughed gently. Agent Phillips droned on. She finally had enough. She cleared her throat. Loudly.
Agent Phillips stopped, peeved at the interruption.
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