If Looks Could Kill

by Heather Graham

  They’d been wild during the night.

  But now, with sunlight filtering into the room, she reached instinctively for the sheet, drawing it up to her breasts as she turned a nervous gaze on him. “I…meant to be out of here. Martique must be awake. She’ll—”

  He cut in sharply. “Where did you get that tattoo?”

  “What?”

  “Your tattoo. Where and when did you get it?”

  “I really don’t see that it’s any of your business!” she replied irritably.

  Kyle took a deep breath, realizing that he was tense and acting like a drill sergeant. “It’s important, Madison.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then started to turn away, as if anxious to find her robe and get out. He caught her arm. “Madison, get back here.”

  “Let me go, Kyle.”

  “Madison, two of the murder victims had rose tattoos.”

  “Lots of women have tattoos.”

  “Not just tattoos, rose tattoos.”

  “I hadn’t heard—”

  “And you won’t hear. The police are keeping the information quiet. When murders like these occur, they get dozens of cranks calling in, confessing to them. Information like this helps them weed out the phonies. Trust me, Madison, or hell! If you don’t trust me, call your sister. Two of the victims had rose tattoos. Another of the victims had just received a huge vase of roses. Now please, where and when did you get your tattoo?”

  She paused, looking at his hand, where it rested on her arm. The look meant that he should let go. He didn’t.

  “Kyle, I’ve had that tattoo since my first year of college. I was out with a bunch of my girlfriends. We went to a club, had a few drinks and all decided to get tattoos. Luckily, we weren’t too loaded, or it might have been a lot bigger.”

  Kyle frowned, shaking his head. “What ever made you think about getting tattoos?”

  She shrugged, her beautiful mane of auburn hair waving down her back, a small, rueful smile curling her lips. “We were college kids. On break, with too much time and too much money. We were being wild, decadent—adult, or so we thought. I think the tattoo parlor was somewhere in Virginia. Near Manassas, I’m pretty sure. I don’t remember. It was a long time ago. It was one of those things kids do—I had blue hair once, too.” She sighed, shaking her head. “And as to the rose, well…”

  “Yes?”

  Her eyes rested on his. “I guess I felt guilty.”

  “Guilty? How?”

  “I spent so much time not wanting to be like my mother. I still worry about it, now and again, I think because I’m the spitting image of her, and I—I don’t want to have a life like hers, though it does seem I’m on the path, doesn’t it?” She didn’t want an answer; she was already talking again. “I did love Lainie. She was a horrible wife, and she was selfish, but in her way, she was a wonderful mother. She was in costume and all made up for a play once, and the director yelled at her that my sitting on her lap was going to mess up her dress. She hugged me tighter and told him that her children were more important that any dress, and for that matter, they were more important than any play. She did love us. Anyway…Lainie had this rose.”

  Kyle exhaled a long breath of relief. “Your mother had a rose tattoo?”

  Madison nodded gravely, then smiled again. “Do you remember how your father used to call her his rose? He’d say that Lainie was just like the most glorious rose, so beautiful and sweet-smelling—and so full of thorns. She had her tattoo done because of your father. She said that she got it complete with thorns because she didn’t want him to forget that she had her own defenses. She said she needed her thorns. You wouldn’t have seen it, because my mother was hardly going to run around naked in front of you, whereas she felt perfectly natural dressing in front of her daughters. The night I had mine done, I’d had a few glasses of champagne, and you know my tolerance for alcohol. I was probably a little weepy, thinking about my mother, even though she’d been dead a long time by then. My friend Cathy Tarlington had a sailfish done, because her boyfriend was an avid sports fisherman. Jill Anderson got a beautiful heron—she’s still working to save the Everglades. And I had…a rose.”

  Kyle stared at her, nodding after a moment.

  “There’s nothing remotely dangerous about my tattoo.”

  “I guess not. It’s just so curious. An incredible coincidence.”

  “You might never have seen it.”

  He met her eyes. “I think you’re wrong. I would have seen it eventually. Last night was long overdue, and you know it.”

  “It couldn’t have been too long overdue. You haven’t been down here that long.”

  “Well, I’ve been fantasizing since the night I got here. How about you?”

  “I hadn’t fantasized at all,” she assured him regally.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You told me you were so curious you couldn’t stand it. Not another minute.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You said something damned close.”

  “Well, I wasn’t fantasizing—”

  “I see. But your friends have been pointing out the fact that I might be a good lay?”

  She arched one brow with elegant disdain. “What a way with words.”

  “How do you want to put it?”

  “I don’t.”

  She started to rise, drawing the sheet along with her. He pulled it back. She let it go, spinning around to face him.

  “Hey, I’m being honest,” he told her huskily. “You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

  “The best what?”

  “You just told me I’m too graphic.”

  “I didn’t say that. Not exactly. The best what?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, resting on an elbow. “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had in bed. You’re beautiful, erotic and giving. And there’s no way in hell I’ll ever be sorry.”

  She paused, watching him. “I didn’t say I was sorry, either,” she told him. Then, moving with pure grace and elegance, she reached down for her green silk robe, but she didn’t put it on.

  She meant to leave him, he knew. She would be back, he told himself. Oh, God, yes, she would have to come back! Because he was more obsessed than he’d ever been. Still, he luxuriated in gazing at her as she veiled her nudity. She was so beautifully built, and her skin had the perfection of porcelain. He had the sheet now, covering him. But once again, he was discovering that watching her was all he needed for an erection.

  It might cause some problem in the days ahead, he reflected.

  “Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked.

  “It’s morning. Martique—”

  “Would never dream of saying a word to anyone.”

  “I have to take a shower and get ready. We’re doing some more shooting for the poster today.”

  “Madison, it’s not over six-thirty. And do you really have to do more photos? Jaime must have taken hundreds of shots yesterday. I’ve got to go back to Miami—”

  “And I have to work here.”

  Kyle stepped out of bed. Meeting her eyes, he took the emerald green robe from her hands. He didn’t want to argue with her. Not now.

  “I can be really quick, I promise,” he vowed solemnly.

  “Kyle…”

  “Really quick.”

  He tugged at the robe more forcefully. “Once you get away,” he told her, taking the green silk garment from her and letting it fall back to the floor, “I don’t know when I’ll get you back again. Don’t leave me like this.” He pulled her into his arms and molded his hands over her buttocks, forcing her against his pelvis.

  A smile twitched at her lips. It was good enough for him. He swept her up and laid her down.

  And once he had her there…

  It was impossible to let her up.

  He was nowhere near as quick as he had promised.

  Okay, she ha
d walked into his room, Madison reminded herself. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t glad to have done so. Darryl had been a good lover, giving, exciting….

  It was just that nothing in life was like being with Kyle. His passion was so explosive, each touch bringing new sensation. When she thought she was tired, he could reawaken her. When she thought she would die from reaching such peaks, he lifted her over another one. It was wonderful. And he was so vocal, telling her that she was the best lover he’d ever had. In defense of her soul, she didn’t dare return the compliment.

  But sex seemed to make men possessive. Maybe it made women possessive, as well, she thought as she showered, because she knew she would knock Sheila right in the head if she started making a play for Kyle again. And yet, Sheila certainly still had the right to do so. She and Kyle had come together with no expectations, no commitments. Chemistry had been brewing between them from the first, and they’d both recognized it, then acted on it. And it had been good. But that was all. They were supposed to have gotten the obsession out of the way, so that they could get on with their lives.

  There was absolutely no way Madison was ever going to admit that she’d been in love with Kyle most of her life, that she was still in love with him and would always love him. He had called her a witch once. And now he thought she was great in bed. Well, what had she expected? Kyle didn’t give of his heart or his soul easily. They’d had great sex. Such words did not speak of involvement or commitment, and she was going to keep her own head level on her shoulders.

  Except that he was making it so hard.

  “I don’t like you staying here,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I’m committed to another day’s shooting, but I’m safe with these guys, you know.”

  Dressed, dark and deadly handsome in a business suit, he nodded gravely as he sipped his coffee, surveying her, his eyes very green against his bronzed skin.

  “The frightening thing is that this killer is someone everybody trusts. Someone leading a dual life, walking around every day looking as normal as can be.”

  “I’ll be fine. Jaime is picking me up, and I’ll have him bring me home, too. Martique will be here all day, and—” she paused, with just a sparkle of amusement in her eyes “—my dad’s alarm system is even better than my own.”

  “Umm,” he murmured.

  “Besides, I’m supposed to be the psychic one. The witch,” Madison reminded him. “I don’t feel any sense of danger here.”

  He raised a brow, then shrugged. “I can’t explain it, but I feel really uncomfortable about this entire case.”

  “Maybe,” she suggested softly, “you’ve just been at it too long.”

  “Yeah,” he said lightly after a moment, “maybe I need a vacation. Anyway, I’ll leave once Jaime gets here, but I’ll be back tonight, and I’ll drive home with you tomorrow.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “I think it is.”

  Madison gave up arguing. A few seconds later, she heard Jaime beeping outside. “I’ve got to go.”

  He didn’t kiss her cheek, didn’t touch her. He just nodded gravely, followed her to the door and watched as Hector stepped from the van to help her into the front passenger seat. Hector waved to Kyle, then crawled into the back, slamming the side door.

  “Mucho macho, that man,” Hector said, shaking his head.

  “Indeed!” agreed Michelle from the rear seat.

  “He’d make a good model,” Jaime said. “Good face.”

  “Great body,” Michelle added.

  “He’d be good on the poster,” Hector mused. “What do you think, stepsister of mucho-macho man? Would he pose?”

  “Well, we’ll all be together again at his father’s gallery opening,” Madison commented lightly. “You can always ask him.”

  “You can always ask,” Jaime agreed, glancing from the road to Madison with a half smile on his lips.

  “Well, that’s Sunday,” Madison said.

  “Right, we have our work today,” Michelle said. “Can’t think too far ahead. But, Madison, look at you! You’re just glowing today. Don’t you think so, Hector?”

  “She’s pure neon,” Hector agreed.

  “You had a good night, eh? Thank God!” Michelle laughed.

  “What?” Madison gasped.

  Hector and Jaime laughed softly, and she knew that they hadn’t known a thing about her night until she gave herself away.

  “Jaime, just drive, will you, please?”

  Dan was being wonderful.

  True to his word.

  He let Kaila sleep, waking with the kids, getting them fed and dressed. He insisted that she make the most of his free time and go to lunch with her friends.

  She played tennis, showered and joined some of her friends in the clubhouse. She didn’t have to drive anybody anywhere, so she sipped wine throughout lunch. Toward the end of the meal, the waiter brought a silver tray with a small, beautifully wrapped box on it with a gift tag bearing nothing but her name.

  “A secret admirer?” Candy Fox, a petite brunette married to another of the attorneys in Dan’s office, inquired.

  Kaila shook her head, smiling. “I think it’s from Dan. He’s been extra sweet lately.”

  “See what it is,” suggested Tara Anderson, mother of two, part-time tennis coach at the club, and the third and final member of their lunch party.

  She opened the box. Wrapped in delicate pink tissue was a pair of fragile “edible” panties. They were white chocolate with a red candy rose for the crotch. Kaila felt her face turn a million shades of pink.

  “Whoa! How…how romantic!” Candy gasped. “How sexy. Boy, are you going to be getting some tonight, honey! I wish David would send me a gift like that now and then. The man is such a boob. On my birthday he goes out and buys me kitchen utensils!”

  They were beginning to draw attention from nearby tables. Kaila quickly closed the box, flushing. “It’s strange….”

  “What’s strange?” Tara asked her.

  Kaila shrugged. “It’s just…it’s just not like Dan. He did send me flowers recently, but most of the time, well, he’s a kitchen-utensil kind of man, too.”

  “Did you have a fight?” Candy asked. “You know how guys like to suck up after a fight!”

  “No, not really. In a way, but it’s already over. I mean, he’s home watching the kids, being just great.”

  “A man home all day with his little kids—no wonder the edible lingerie. He’s already planning to ease his frustrations!” Tara announced.

  “Maybe,” Kaila murmured.

  “Honey, he’s on a romantic binge! Enjoy it!” Tara advised her.

  Kaila smiled suddenly. Dan was being good. So good. Twinges of guilt tore at her heart. She did act like a spoiled rich kid sometimes, thinking that the world was passing her by while she changed diapers. She prayed silently that God would forgive her; her children were so important to her! She loved them dearly, and they deserved a far more patient mother. Dan, too, was being great. Working so hard and still realizing that she needed a break. Lord, she even had Anna, for God’s sake! So many moms with little kids had no help. She had so much.

  She blinked furiously, realizing how close she had come to destroying her marriage. She had been so blind and selfish that she might actually have cheated on Dan.

  She sipped her coffee and smiled at Tara. “I hope he’s good and frustrated, because he’s going to have one hell of a night!” She was going to be good to him. She was going to wear her gift and make up for being such a bitch lately.

  Tonight…

  Including airport time, it took less than an hour to get from Key West to Miami by plane. By noon, Kyle was back at Jimmy’s office, reading and rereading the forensic reports on all the victims, hoping that something else would jump out at him.

  Jimmy came in, taking a chair and staring at Kyle. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Remember Harry Nore, derelict, bad teeth, found with your father�
�s Saint Christopher medal and the butcher knife that killed Lainie Adair?”

  Kyle frowned. “What about him?”

  “They let him go.”

  “What?” Kyle demanded incredulously.

  Jimmy nodded gravely. “Believe it or not,” he said in disgust, “the shrinks let him go. The doctors were supposed to let us know if they ever let him out, so they sent us a letter that we just got—but he’s been out for about six months now.”

  “Six months?”

  “And the murders started four months ago. All redheads, like Lainie, like you said.”

  “Redheads, yeah. Like Lainie.” Kyle shook his head.

  “So what do you think? Could he be doing the killings?”

  “He’s not the type. Can you imagine Nore romancing someone?” He shook his head. “But…do we know where he is now?” Kyle asked.

  Jimmy shook his head. “He was supposed to be living in Stuart, and a social worker was supposed to have been looking in on him once every couple of weeks, but you know how things like that go. He disappeared after the social worker’s first visit. I have guys looking for him now, but…he could be anywhere. Including Miami.”

  Kyle tapped a pencil against Jimmy’s desk, then shook his head.

  “It can’t be Nore.”

  “Why not? He killed Lainie. He admitted it. Said she was the devil’s spawn. Maybe he feels that way about redheads in general. Now that he’s loose and out on his own, maybe he thinks God has told him to kill more redheads, more of the devil’s spawn.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Jimmy groaned, aggravated. “Why can’t anything ever be simple with you guys? Nore is a homicidal maniac! He butchered his wife, then Lainie, and it looks as if he’s at it again.”

  Kyle shook his head, smiling slightly. “Nore never went to trial for Lainie’s murder.”

  “Christ! He confessed to it!”

  “Right. But he’s a certifiable madman, and madmen confess to crimes.”

  “You had too many years of college, boy. Madmen don’t confess to crimes, they commit them!”

  “Jimmy, this killer is suave and sleek. He seduces his victims. Hell, remember what Nore looked like? His eyes were wild, his smile was a leer. He’s about as seductive as a rabid dog. I don’t think he’s our man.”