by Debra Webb
The pages.
The pages she needed to retrace her steps. Pages he had stolen and then tried to destroy.
“You,” she whispered. She bolted out of her chair, overturning it in her haste. “It was you who stole my notes.”
Mitch stood, bewildered by her words. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“They were in your trash can,” she said as she backed away from him. “That’s why I went out onto the porch. And then he came out of nowhere and grabbed me. Or maybe it was you.”
What the hell was she accusing him of? Her screams had brought Mitch running. He’d raced out of the house to find her flying across the yard as if the devil himself was on her heels, but he hadn’t seen anyone. Then he’d considered that maybe she had regained some memory that sent her into the darkness then frightened her, like at the clearing.
The rest of what she’d said sank in. How could she have found her notes in his trash can? “What notes? The notes you claimed are missing from your notebook?”
Alex looked at her hands as if she expected the pages to be there. She frowned. “I must have dropped them outside.”
He tried to think if he’d seen anything besides her out there. He hadn’t. He’d been so intent on getting to her all else had kind of faded into insignificance.
She took a step toward the door, then stalled. “They’re out there.” She pointed to the back door, her gaze narrowing with suspicion. “You should know. You had to be the one to steal them.”
“This is ridiculous. I told you I didn’t even look in the envelope before I gave it to you. I didn’t know you had a casebook.”
“Then how did the pages get out there?”
She was accusing him of attempting to destroy evidence. He reached beneath his shirt and removed his handgun. He’d tucked it there and raced out of the house when he’d heard her scream.
She gasped.
Mitch glared at her. Did she think he was going to shoot her now as well? “Don’t move,” he commanded.
Furious with himself and with her, he jerked the door open and stalked out to the trash can. He surveyed his backyard and found nothing. No intruder. No papers. The trash can’s lid was on the ground next to the porch. Mitch surveyed the can and saw nothing but the closed white plastic bags he used to store his trash. He scanned the yard once more before going back inside.
She waited expectantly on the other side of the room.
He locked the door and faced her. “There’s nothing out there.”
She shook her head. “That’s not possible.” She started forward again. “I know what I saw.” She displayed her empty palms. “I held them in my hands.”
“Well, they’re gone now.” Mitch massaged the back of his neck. God, he was tired. He didn’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. “I don’t know what you saw or what you think you saw, but nothing’s there now, so let’s just call it a night.”
“I’m not staying here.” She backed away a few steps. “I can’t trust you. I know what I saw,” she repeated.
Mitch swore hotly under his breath. If he moved in too aggressively, she’d make a run for it. He couldn’t let her do that since she was in his custody and on the off chance that there was any truth to what she said about being attacked. Though he doubted it, considering what she’d said about the missing pages of her notes. He didn’t have them. She had to have imagined the episode. Calling the neurologist would be tomorrow’s first order of business.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked carefully, taking a half step in her direction. “Back to the hospital…or maybe to a cell?”
“Don’t patronize me, Hayden.” She fell back the half step he’d taken. “I don’t know what you’re hiding.”
“I’m not hiding anything.” He moved closer. “You have two choices here, Alex. You can either trust me or you can take up residence in a cell until we’ve determined the threat to you and your involvement in these homicides.”
“How can you expect me to trust you now?” One more step brought her up against the wall. Panic widened those amber eyes. “I’m…confused. The pages were there. I saw them. You had to have put them there.”
He closed in on her fully now, trapping her between the wall and his body. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, I would have done so while you were sleeping last night or the night before. You have to know you’re safe here. We’ll figure this out in the morning. But right now you need to relax. You can trust me. I didn’t take those pages.”
She held up her right hand to ward him off. “I…I don’t know, Hayden.”
A fresh set of scratches on the inner side of her right forearm snagged Mitch’s attention. “What’s this?” He grabbed her wrist and turned her arm up for his inspection. She tried to pull loose but Mitch held her firmly.
“When he grabbed me I struggled. I guess he scratched me when I broke free.”
Mitch muttered a four-letter word. Unless she’d scratched herself and that didn’t look like the case, someone else had. Adrenaline sent his heart pounding. His grip tightened on her wrist. “Don’t ever go outside again unless I’m with you.”
“Does that mean you believe me now?”
“I don’t know what I believe but I’m not taking any chances.”
“And the pages from my casebook? My notes?”
He held her gaze, worry twisting inside him. This was too close. Way too close. “Maybe the pages were bait?”
She looked startled. “I wouldn’t have gone out if I hadn’t seen the pages.”
Mitch couldn’t decide which he wanted to do most, take care of her or go outside and hunt down the bastard who’d hurt her. But he wouldn’t risk leaving her alone. “Come on, let’s put something on those scratches.”
She still seemed a little reluctant, but she followed him anyway. Mitch reached into the medicine cabinet and retrieved the things he would need to take care of her latest injuries. She lingered in the doorway, as if afraid to get trapped in such a small space with him.
He crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”
An unsteady breath heaved past her lips. He hated that she was afraid of him. If she ever remembered what he said to her that night… He swore. That would not be a good thing considering their precarious bond at the moment. Finally, she moved toward him, at once brave and vulnerable, and making him all the more aware of his fierce desire to protect her. A desire that went way beyond the call of duty.
She paused less than two feet away and extended her arm.
Using a cotton ball and antiseptic he swabbed the scratches. She winced against the sting.
“Sorry,” he murmured. He drew her arm closer and blew to relieve the sting.
She watched him, her gaze drifting up to meet his.
The smoothness of her skin beneath his fingers tugged at his senses, made him want to touch more of her. Made him want to press his lips there. The needy look in her eyes only made him want her more. Forcing his attention to the task at hand, he swabbed the antibiotic ointment on next.
“That should do it,” he said tautly, still holding on to her.
“Thank you.”
The lingering uncertainty in her eyes made him ache to show her in whatever way it took that she could trust him. Unable to resist the temptation, he reached up with his free hand and traced the fading mark from her encounter with Gill. She shivered but didn’t draw away. He still wanted to kill the guy for touching her.
“I don’t know, Preston,” he murmured. “I can’t decide if you’re just incredibly brave or completely reckless.”
She smiled, just the tiniest gesture. “After tonight, I think I’d have to say a little of both.” Worry still haunted her amber gaze.
“You really think I stole your notes and was dumb enough to stash ’em in my trash can?” He caressed the sensitive side of her wrist with his thumb. Slow little circles. The feel of her skin made him ache. He was treading on thin ice here.
She closed her eyes and sighed. “I do
n’t know what I think.” After a moment she opened that soft, warm gaze to his once more. “I only know that someone wants me out of the picture and I wish I knew why.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let this happen again. From now on, you don’t make a move without me.”
“That might be a little tricky,” she suggested, the smile reaching her eyes this time. “Unless, of course, you’re planning to ask me to sleep with you.”
“Do you want me to ask?”
She held his gaze for a second or two before she answered. He could see the battle taking place in her eyes. It was the same one he struggled with.
“I don’t want to complicate things,” she said softly. “Especially not now.”
“You mean since you have reason to suspect me.”
She turned her palm into his, allowing him to hold her hand, showing her fledgling trust. “I mean since I don’t know what’s going on up here.” She tapped her temple. “I’m not thinking clearly.”
“I guess I’ll have to take the chair then.”
She moistened her lips and gifted him with another of those fragile smiles. “As strange as it sounds after what I thought a few minutes ago, I’d feel a lot safer with you close by.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what it is about you.” She traced the pattern of the star he wore on his left shirt pocket. “Maybe it’s because you’re the sheriff. You know, one of the good guys.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He resisted the urge to hold on to her hand when she turned away.
“There’s just one thing,” he said, giving her pause.
She looked back expectantly.
Mitch cupped her cheeks and drew her close for the very briefest meeting of the lips. He couldn’t say exactly what possessed him at that moment. He just had to do it. He had to taste her. To feel her lips beneath his. And she tasted every bit as refreshingly sweet as he’d known she would. Her mouth felt marvelously soft and vulnerable beneath his. He wanted to get lost in her more than he’d ever wanted to do anything in his life.
His body hardened instantly. And in that moment he knew that kissing her would never be enough. But right now, she needed to be kissed. And so did he. He’d missed out on kissing her that first time, but not tonight. Tonight he followed his heart, as foolish as that likely was.
She drew back first, breathless, her face flushed. She licked her lips, tasting their kiss. “I’ll just go get ready for bed now.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Mitch watched her go, already berating himself for allowing that kiss, and for knowing that it would never, ever be enough. One thing was certain, he had to regain control before he set foot in that bedroom. The image of her lying amid a mound of rumpled sheets in nothing but a skimpy T-shirt…
The ringing of the telephone shattered the arousing picture.
Shaken more by the kiss than he had anticipated, Mitch strode to the living room and snatched up the receiver. “Hayden.”
“Talkington here, Hayden.”
Mitch frowned. He glanced at his watch, it was late. “What’s up, Talkington?”
“Well, it looks like we’ve found another of Gill’s victims. I’m in the middle of the woods right now. It’s going to be morning before we have anything to look at. I just thought you’d want to know. Could be your missing girl, I suppose. Looks as if she’s been here long enough to be the one you’re looking for.”
“Marija Bukovak?” Mitch asked knowing full well who Talkington meant.
“Can’t tell yet. I’ll give you a call as soon as we know something.”
Chapter Seven
Alex jerked awake. Her fingers fisted in the sheets as the final remnants of her erotic dream faded, leaving her hot and aching. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Man, that had been too real. Her lids drifted open as the images from her dream clicked past, frame by frame. Mitch smiling down at her. The warmth flowing between them, drawing her nearer when she was already far too close. His opening her car door…
The gray sedan.
She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. The gray sedan was her rental car. The one that had been towed away as evidence. She closed her eyes and relived emerging from that same vehicle at the clearing the night Miller was murdered.
Did that mean that her dream was real? Was there some other connection between her and Mitch? She frowned. When had she started calling him Mitch?
Remembering the promise he’d made to stay close by, she turned to the large upholstered chair that sat to the left of her night table. The soft, warm glow from the lamp lit his features. Mitch Hayden’s eyes were closed in sleep. Long strands of tawny hair had worked loose from their leather tie and fell around his broad shoulders. The holster and weapon he wore beneath the loose chambray shirt made her feel safe. His long legs were outstretched in front of him. She wondered how he could possibly be comfortable in that chair?
Her gaze drifted back up to the weapon he carried. For the first time since all this began she wished she had her own weapon back. But it was evidence now. Alex shook her head to deny the reality that Miller had been killed with her weapon. Her prints were on it…but she hadn’t made the deadly shot. She knew it deep in her heart. Whatever she had gone to that clearing to talk to him about, she had not killed him. Her intentions, if recorded, as far as Miller was concerned were among the missing pages. The pages she had seen tonight. She closed her eyes. God, how was she supposed to know what was real and what wasn’t? Had she imagined the whole episode in Mitch’s backyard? She thought of the scratches on her arm and consoled herself in the knowledge that she had proof of the attack.
But what about the pages?
The image of Mitch’s gorgeous smile crept back into her thoughts and a flush of heat warmed her, chasing away those other fears and insecurities. Alex turned back to study her sleeping protector once more. Had something happened between them? Something besides the argument he had confessed to? Something…intimate?
Alex pushed the covers back and dropped her feet to the floor. She sat on the edge of the bed like that for a long time, just watching him, remembering his smile, his touch, the sound of his voice. Her fingers itched to trace the lean angular features of that handsome face. The square line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, and that tiny cleft in his chin. Her gaze slid lower, along his neck and down the well-defined contours of his chest beneath the form-fitting T-shirt. The snug, worn soft jeans molded to his lean waist, well-defined masculine bulge and muscular thighs. The mismatched sweat socks made her smile.
“Can’t sleep?”
The sound of his deep, sultry voice jerked her attention back up to his face. Those clear blue eyes looked straight into her soul, eliminating any possibility of denying what she felt just then.
“I had a dream,” she admitted. “About you.”
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his spread knees, and making her breath catch at his nearness. “Oh, yeah?”
She nodded, her throat so tight she wasn’t sure she could speak. “When I woke up you were here. As if I’d somehow conjured you up from my imagination.”
He inclined his head, taking his time to study every facet of her face as she had done his only moments ago. “Were we fighting in this dream?”
She shook her head.
The desire that flamed to life in his eyes made her heart pound like a drum in her chest. Instinctively, she moistened her lips in anticipation of his taste…of the feel of his lips against hers. He followed the movement, his expression so intent it made her tremble.
The renewed ache that welled inside her when he looked deeply into her eyes was a physical pain. She wanted to tell him that her dream was real…it had to be, no dream could feel like this one had, but she was afraid of breaking the spell that held them in this special cocoon of warmth and yearning. Nothing else could touch them here. Nothing else mattered.
“You were smiling at me,” she said when she could no longer bear the tension filled silence. �
�You walked me to my car. It felt so real.”
Something in his eyes changed, the shift so subtle she couldn’t decipher it. Sadness…maybe.
“It was real.”
Had she hurt him somehow? In some way besides the investigation into his uncle’s life. The idea twisted inside her like barbed wire, made her want to reach out to him and make it all go away.
She chewed her lower lip, concentrating hard to remember every moment of the dream. She lifted her gaze back to his. “You didn’t kiss me that night?”
“No.”
And she knew in that instant what she wanted. Making her move from the bed before she had time to think about it and change her mind, she knelt in front of him and peered up into his eyes. This close she could smell his clean, masculine scent, could feel the warmth of his strong body.
The need she saw in his eyes made her dizzy. She braced her hands on his thighs to steady herself, reveling in the feel of hard muscle.
“Did something happen between us that I haven’t remembered yet?” she asked, her voice as uneven as her equilibrium.
“Not what you think,” he murmured, regret heavy in his husky voice.
Alex squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to banish the funnel of feelings whirling inside her. He touched her. She caught her breath. Just the merest grazing of her cheek with his fingertips and then it was gone.
She opened her eyes to him and the battle was over. She was too weak to fight, too needy to think. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands. The barest hint of stubble scraped her palms. Slowly, giving him adequate time to stop her since she couldn’t possibly stop herself, she lifted her mouth to his. Her whole body sighed as her lips brushed his.
His hands threaded into her hair, as if he might take control of the moment but he held back, his lips so close she could feel their pull, but not quite close enough to touch.