You did it Lillian Moore. All by yourself.
Well, maybe not entirely. She’d had some great tutoring, but still… She had learned it. Something she hadn’t been all that certain she could do and probably wouldn’t have without Sam believing in her. Rusty had been dead and buried going on four years. She would never forget him, but it was time to move on. Time to be more than a Navy wife. Time to be Lillian Moore, successful… spy. Time to let herself fall in love, become Sam’s woman of the world.
Lillian drifted off to sleep, woke to a baby’s cry and the phone ringing. She picked up the phone on her way to the nursery.
“Good morning, Mrs. Moore. I hope I’m not calling too early.”
Lillian suppressed a yawn. “I was just about to change a diaper.”
“I’m sorry to report that we haven’t been able to locate any relatives. We’ve had several responses to the picture on the evening news, but nothing helpful. Will you be able to keep Baby John for another day or two?”
Lillian nibbled on her lower lip. Tomorrow was her birthday and Amanda’s big bash at the country club. Usually a child’s extended family would turn up quickly. It was rare for Lillian to house a child for more than one night. She must have hesitated too long because Janet Summers hurried to reassure her.
“I’m sure someone will turn up, or if not, we’ll find another place for him.”
Baby John smiled up at her from the changing table, his fingers wound around her thumb. Would a woman of the world care what anyone thought of her secret life, and why should she apologize if they did? “He’ll be fine with me. I can keep him here until you find a family member.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know the minute I have any information.” Janet hung up.
Lillian finished taping the small disposable diaper into place. “Well, Baby John, looks like you’re going to be here for awhile, and I’m going to play hooky today.”
* * *
Jorgé stared at the mask still sitting undisturbed in the corner cabinet.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Jorgé whirled around and nearly knocked over his cleaning cart. While it wasn’t unusual for the museum director to come in early, the man rarely showed up while he was still cleaning. Of course, if he hadn’t started two hours late…
“I’m sorry, Jorgé. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“This exhibit gives me the creeps, Mr. Kessler. Like maybe it’s haunted.”
“No, Jorgé, it’s simply old.” Kessler approached slowly. “You don’t like it?”
Jorgé didn’t want to get into one of the director’s philosophical discussions which he didn’t understand and the old man would want to explain thoroughly. He had spent way too much time at the bar drinking with Rudy, and now all he wanted to do was finish his work and head home. So far, he had managed to avoid Mariah. He figured she must’ve worked late last night because she hadn’t come home by the time he’d had to go to work at 8:00. But once Mariah left for work today, he would stop at his mother’s house to say good-bye to José, grab the baby carrier, pick up his paycheck, then head for Mexico.
“I like the village. It looks real, you know.”
“Yes, it’s an excellent reproduction. I was looking forward to meeting the artist.”
Jorgé indicated the sign. “It says she died.”
“Yes, most unfortunate. She could have explained this much better than I am able to do.”
Jorgé didn’t think anyone could do that better than the director, but he didn’t want to waste any more time in this room listening to him. He especially didn’t want to call any attention to the forged mask. “That’s okay. I got two more rooms to finish.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it.”
Jorgé watched the old man head for his office, then completed his tasks and left. An hour later, he was standing in front of the door to his apartment, holding a bunch of dumb flowers, and hoping Mariah would accept them along with his unrepentant apology. He unlocked the door and opened it cautiously.
“Mariah?”
Nothing. Crap. She must have gone to work early again. He set the flowers on the counter. Odd. Yesterday, she’d cleaned up after their fight, yet today his empty beer bottles still sat on the coffee table. He went into the bedroom, then the bathroom. Everything looked the same. Guess she’s still mad, he thought, then reached for the telephone.
“Molina residence.”
Jorgé rolled his eyes. “Hello, Mama. I’m home now. I’ll come see José.”
“He’s not here.”
“What do mean? Hasn’t he been there the last two days?”
“No, Mariah called yesterday morning. Said she wasn’t feeling well. I offered to take the baby, but she said she could manage.”
Jorgé’s heart plunged into his stomach. He knew very well she hadn’t been home. Where was she? Shit! “Thanks, Mama.” Before she could ask him any questions he couldn’t answer, he hung up. Dialed the employee number at the Wal-Mart store where Mariah worked. “Come on, somebody, pick up.”
While he waited, he paced. If she wasn’t at work, where could she be? And where was José? Mariah never left him with anyone but his mother. The longer it took for his call to be answered, the more jumpy he got. He didn’t know any of her co-workers. Or their neighbors, for that matter. Stay calm. You don’t want to sound like a panicked idiot. But he was. And because his mind wasn’t working on all cylinders, he hadn’t noticed the blinking red light on the answering machine. Hypnotized, he simply stared at it.
“Employee Services.”
Could Mariah have left him a message?
“Employee Services. May I help you?”
He hung up. Heart pounding, he pressed the message button. Three calls, all yesterday. 9:36 a.m. 11:52 a.m. 3:20 p.m. He listened to all three messages, each one saying pretty much the same thing and from the same person. A worried co-worker named Serena.
Mariah, girl, where are you? It’s not like you to be late to work. Mariah, are we still on for lunch? Mariah, call me. I’m worried.
Serena hadn’t left her number or her last name. While Jorgé listened to the messages for a third time, cursing Mariah with every breath he took, his eyes scanned the room. He frowned. Something was missing. Shit! Shit! Shit! Where the hell was the baby carrier? No! No! He raced into the bedroom, checked frantically through the closet. He couldn’t tell if any of her clothes were missing, but the envelope hidden under the rug in the corner that contained José’s meager college fund was gone. And so was his wife, his son, and the baby carrier containing his future. He sat down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.
I’m a dead man.
* * *
It had been a very long time since he’d held a baby, Sam thought, while he debated whether to get up and go for a run or sleep another hour. Twelve years to be exact. Ben had been a colicky baby, and nothing seemed to help but to be held. The little guy currently staying with Lillian didn’t appear to have that problem. In fact, he seemed quite content to sit in his carrier or lie in the crib watching the wild animal mobile dangling above him. Though when Lillian picked up Baby John, his little cherubic face practically glowed.
Sam imagined his face did too, every time he looked at her. Especially when he kissed her. Tasted the passion he knew lay within her, just waiting to be released. It was getting harder and harder for him to leave her. As he hoped it was for her to leave him.
Bees buzzed. Bees that did not belong in his dream. Sam’s hand fumbled around on the bedside table until he located his cell phone. “What?”
“Did I wake you?”
Sam shook his head, sat up. “Yes, from a very erotic dream about you.”
Silence. Oh, shit. He shouldn’t have said that, and if it wasn’t ergonomically impossible, he would kick himself. Then he heard her giggle. Clear her throat and giggle again.
“Oh, my. Now I really am sorry I woke you.”
Was she toying with him? Or did she mean it? “You can have din
ner with me tonight and make it up to me.”
“I’d like that, I really would…”
“But?”
“Baby John will be visiting for another day or two. I’m calling because I need to cancel our tutoring session today.”
“You could bring him.”
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”
Sam swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. She was probably right. He didn’t need another altercation with Walter. “Okay, if you can’t go out, how about I bring dinner in?” He heard whimpering in the background. Assumed it was Baby John and not Lillian. “Nothing fancy, I promise.”
“All right. Come at 5:00.”
Sam rang Lillian’s doorbell three minutes early. When she opened the door, Baby John in her arms, he couldn’t stop staring. She wore black leggings, a red tunic, v-neck sweater sporting a splatter of white dotting the area between her breasts, and sandals that showed her recent pedicure. His gaze paused briefly on the heart shaped locket visible in the center of the V.
“Spit up.”
Sam tried hard not to laugh. He really did, but lost the effort. “Do you want to change?”
“Not on your life. It’s a badge of honor.” Lillian led Sam into the kitchen and settled the baby into his carrier perched in the middle of the table. She handed Sam a small bottle of formula. “You can finish feeding him while I toss the salad.”
Sam handed her the large pizza box in exchange for the bottle. “Half pepperoni and half Hawaiian. Hope that’s okay.”
“My favorite.”
“Which one?”
“Both.”
Baby John finished the bottle while Lillian set out plates for the pizza. “He certainly has a good appetite,” Sam said, handing her the empty bottle, the baby’s fingers wrapped tightly around his thumb. “And a strong grip.”
“He seems to be healthy and happy.”
Sam drew his hand away, offering the baby a pacifier instead. “And much too young to comprehend that his mother is dead.”
“I have no idea how much a baby understands at this age.” Lillian poured them each a glass of wine. “Or if parents understand their children at any age.”
“So true.” Sam lifted his glass. “To misunderstood parents everywhere.”
Lillian chuckled, clicked her glass against his and appeared to sip her wine thoughtfully. Though he was curious about her relationship with her daughter, he suspected now was not the time to ask. She would tell him in her own time. He reached across the table, took hold of her hand and squeezed. Gazed into blue eyes that mirrored his wariness. Someday they would talk openly about their children, but not tonight. He raised her hand, brushed her fingers with his lips. Felt her tense slightly before she smiled and let her hand relax.
“Sam.” Her whisper caressed his name, soft and light as a cloud.
His lips curved slowly into a seductive smile. “It’s okay, Lilly.”
When the baby whimpered, then let out a cry of distress, Sam merely closed his eyes, took a quiet breath, and lifted her fingers to his lips. The search for just how okay their future could be would have to wait. Lillian drew her fingers slowly from his hand, her gaze offering him a silent apology, and reached for the baby.
“I have a feeling he’s wet.”
Sam stood. “I’ll change him.” When Lillian opened her mouth to object, he kissed her. “I’d be totally useless cleaning up your kitchen.” He took the baby from her arms. “However, I was a pretty good diaper changer, and as far as I know, Ben had no complaints.” Before she could respond, he turned and headed for the stairs.
Sam laid Baby John on the changing table, handed him a small rubber ring, and then proceeded to undress him. “Might as well get you ready for bed. Those baby browns of yours look a bit droopy.” The baby drooled and cooed while Sam removed the wet diaper. “Bear with me. I may be a bit rusty, but I do remember how to do this.”
Setting aside the wet diaper, he dug through the diaper bag for a fresh one. Tugged a wet wipe from the handy container sitting on the side shelf, and attempted to wash the targeted area while the baby wiggled non-stop, his legs punching the air. “Now, hold still. You don’t want Lilly to think we guys can’t do this right, do you?” Baby John grew quiet, his dark eyes intent on Sam’s face. “Okay, here we go.”
Sam unfolded the diaper, spread out the back portion under Baby John’s bottom, and started to thread the front section through the baby’s legs. When he stretched it across the baby’s tummy, a piece of paper fell out. Not a piece of paper. An envelope. “What are you hiding here, Baby John?” Sam glanced at the addresses, took out the letter and read it. “Well, little guy, it appears you do have a name after all. Joey.”
The diapering job complete, Sam dressed Joey in his pajamas and laid him in the crib. He picked up the letter and headed downstairs. Lillian stood in the kitchen doorway. “Your guest’s same is Joey Molina,” he said, handing her the envelope. “This letter is from his grandmother in Modesto. I found it wedged in between the folds of a diaper.” He waited while Lillian read through it.
“This is wonderful. I need to let CPS know about this immediately.”
Sam slipped the letter from her hand and drew her into his arms. “I’ll drop it off at the nearest CHP station on my way home. Joey is sleeping, and you and I need to talk.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lillian suspected that talking was not what Sam had in mind. She gazed into his face, watched mesmerized until his mouth touched hers, then closed her eyes and let herself sink into the pleasure of his kiss. Returned it with a fervor she hadn’t known existed inside her. Her whole body quivered with need.
Oh, Sam. What are you doing to me? What are you capable of doing to me?
When he pulled her tighter, she knew what he wanted, could feel the heat of his erection against her body. But was she ready to lead him up the stairs and into her bed? She wanted to. Longed for him to stroke her in those places she thought would never again know a man’s touch. When he broke the kiss to trail his lips along her throat, she tilted her head to give him access.
You are a wanton woman, Lillian Moore.
“Sam…”
“I’m falling in love with you, Lilly.”
She wanted to cry. Instead, she gazed up into his face, so earnest, so… determined, and stepped out of his embrace. “You can’t fall in love with me.”
“Too late. Do you think you could ever fall in love with me?”
“Oh, Sam, I’m twelve years older than you are.”
Sam brushed his fingers along her cheek in a soft caress that made her whole body tremble. “Would the age difference frighten you so much if I were twelve years older than you?”
“Probably not, but that’s not the case.”
“My head knows that, but my heart doesn’t care.” He glanced down and laughed. “Apparently, neither does my dick.” Without an ounce of shame, Lillian’s gaze followed his. He reached for her hands, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “I want you Lilly. Make love with me. Fall in love with me.”
“Oh, Sam, I’d like to do both of those things. Very much. I feel I should warn you though. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love, and I haven’t had sex in so long, I’m not sure if all the parts still work.”
Sam chuckled, kissed her again. “Sex hasn’t been a part of my life recently either, but just looking at you right now has it all coming back. One thing I do know. I’ve never felt like this before, and I don’t want to lose it.”
So intent was his gaze on her face, Lillian couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. All she could do was nod, and apparently that was enough because in the next instant, he swooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. She clung to his neck, terrified to let go. Afraid she would wake up and his confession and declaration of love would all be a dream. He set her on her feet at the foot of her bed. She couldn’t meet his gaze, stared instead at his chest.
Stop trembling, Lillian. You’ve had
sex before.
Not like this she hadn’t.
Her heart had never thundered this fast in anticipation, certainly not with Rusty, and there had never been anyone else. Until now. And at this moment, she wanted Sam so badly, she couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember what to do. Ocean waves surged and pounded against the beach in her ears. She closed her eyes, willed herself to breathe.
Oh, dear God. Don’t let me faint.
Sam tipped her chin up. “Lilly?”
“I think I’m a little bit scared.”
He smiled, pressed his lips softly against her cheek. “Me, too,” he whispered. Sam stepped closer, slid his hands beneath her sweater to brush against her bare skin. Her heart rate doubled. Her breath caught in her throat, then accelerated when his fingers skimmed along the edge of her bra, brushed against the locket. “I love you, Lilly. Let me love you. Please.”
Lillian lifted her hand to cradle his cheek, ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. Could she fall in love with this man as he wanted? Hadn’t she already? “I’d like that very much,” she stated, drawing his mouth to hers. Tasted rich spices on his breath, savored the desire hot on his tongue. He dragged the sweater over her head, unhooked her black lace bra and released her breasts into his waiting hands.
“I’ve dreamed of this moment.” While Lillian stood naked from the waist, Sam’s thumbs caressed her nipples, gently at first, then with more intensity. Supple buds soon turned into hard, demanding peaks. “You’re beautiful, Lilly. Perfect in every way.”
“Sam…” Lillian couldn’t think, his caress of her breasts too exquisite to bear for much longer. A wetness she hadn’t felt in years collected between her legs. “I want to touch you.” Barely able to control her fumbling fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, then splayed her palms across the muscles of his chest. “Oh my…” She circled his dark, flat nipples with her index finger. Gloried in the moan her stroking drew from him.
An Equation For Murder Page 17