In This Together

by Kara Lennox

  “As happy as she can be without her real parents,” Travis said glumly. “I don’t know if she’ll ever recover from losing both of her parents so abruptly. Before Tammy’s murder she was a different child—cheerful, a real chatterbox. Always laughing. She’s a ghost of what she was before.”

  “Has she been to therapy?”

  “Eric paid for her to see a pricey child psychologist. My guess is, though, that the Stovers didn’t always take her. They might have found some way to cash those checks themselves. It never occurred to me to be suspicious about that until recently, when the other stuff came to light.”

  “So, once you have custody, you can try again.”

  “Yeah. I will. But the best therapy in the world would be to get Eric out of prison. Do you really think Project Justice will make it happen?”

  She nodded. “They will. And they might get to it sooner than three months. That’s just an estimate.”

  “I feel like I should be doing something—like talking to Eric’s neighbors. The police said no one saw anything, but I find that hard to believe.”

  “Sometimes people just don’t notice things. It’s a constant challenge with murder investigations. Either they don’t see anything or they remember incorrectly. Human memory is very fallible. Except yours, of course.”

  “I forgot the first-aid kit.”

  “How much did you spend for the stuff in that bag?” she asked, pointing to the plastic bag he’d dropped on the floor when he’d walked in.

  “Fifty-two dollars and eighty cents. Why?”

  She gave him a penetrating stare. “Freakish. You have a freakish memory.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “No. It’s a good thing. Amazing, really. But you can’t expect everyone to remember things like you do.”

  “Okay. But we’ll never know what people do or don’t remember if they aren’t questioned. And I’m convinced the police didn’t question the neighbors. Or if they did, none of them saw Eric returning in the middle of the day—which is what the police claim happened—so their statements were buried.”

  “Definite possibility.” She reached out and rubbed his upper arm. “I love it that you’re so devoted to your family.”

  “Don’t make me out to be a martyr,” he said gruffly. “Eric and MacKenzie are all I have.”

  “Not true. You have me.” She blinked at him with a bright smile, which faded when he didn’t smile back. “Oh, dear. Stupid-mouth strikes again.”

  “No. I mean, I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

  “By what? Stupid-mouth? You know, when I say things that only an idiot would—”

  “I know what stupid-mouth means. I’m just... I do have you. You’re in my kitchen, you’re sleeping in my house, you’re...you’re...”

  “Having sex with you?”

  “Yeah.” Every time he thought about that, it blew his mind. “I’m still trying to figure out why.”

  “Does there have to be a reason? Maybe just because I want to. Isn’t that good enough?”

  “No. It doesn’t make sense. Even Stockholm Syndrome should have worn off by now.”

  “Do you actually think you’re not likeable?”

  Did he? “I don’t think I’m unlikeable. I just think it’s unlikely that you would like me.”

  “Well, I do. Get over it,” she snapped. “I like you, and I’m annoyed that ever since we had sex you’ve been treating me like I have the plague. Did I do something wrong? Have I offended you?”

  “Elena, of course not. It’s just... You’re my employee. I don’t want to take advantage.”

  “What, you think I’m going to accuse you of sexual harassment?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to do it.”

  “Travis...” She sighed. “Forget it. My mother said I’d lost my mind,” she muttered as she took her plate to the sink.

  “I think she’s a smart woman, your mother.”

  “And I’m an idiot, apparently.” She’d turned on the water to rinse her plate, but she was just standing there, leaning against the sink. Oh, God. Her shoulders were shaking. He’d made her cry.

  “Elena—”

  “Just shut up, okay? Everything you say makes it ten times worse.”

  Makes what worse?

  He opened his mouth, intending to apologize, then clamped it shut again. She’d told him to shut up. But she hadn’t told him he couldn’t do something. He stood and went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. When she didn’t try to shake him off, he reached past her to turn off the water and then put his arms around her and pressed his face into her hair. They stood there for a long time.

  “I wanted tonight to be special.” Her voice was thick with tears. “You said you’d be home for dinner.”

  He was home for dinner. A late dinner. If he’d had any idea Elena was preparing a nice meal for him...

  “I mean, you were late, but that’s okay. I didn’t mind that.”

  “It was special.”

  “But clearly you don’t... I mean, am I making a fool of myself? You have to tell me the truth.”

  “About what?” Why were women so confusing? Why didn’t they just say what they meant?

  “I have feelings for you. Really strong, um, positive feelings. And I need to know if you feel anything for me or if you’re just being polite.”

  Polite? “I’m not polite. Of course I have feelings for you. How could I not? But—”

  “Stop thinking,” she said. “I can almost hear the gears in your brain. Stop thinking and just feel. And for God’s sake, take me to bed before I have to humiliate myself further by begging.”

  He was helpless to deny her. She had fair warning, after all. He scooped her into his arms like a gallant knight carrying his ladylove to the castle keep, and he carried her all the way upstairs—to the master bedroom this time. Bigger bed.

  She giggled, reminding him that she was under the influence, but he was past caring about that. This amazing creature was his—for tonight.

  He set her down only long enough to take off her clothes. She wasn’t wearing much—a Mexican shirt, a gauzy skirt that slid right down her legs along with her panties. She was already barefoot. The bra disappeared, and then she was working on his clothes.

  “Shower,” he said. “I’ve been working all day.”

  “Do I look like I care?” She made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. “Unless you want me to join you? I’ll scrub your back.”

  He nearly swooned, picturing Elena naked and slick in the shower. No, he was too turned on. Making love in the shower seemed like an activity that required finesse, perhaps a more leisurely approach.

  He wasn’t feeling leisurely.

  “Never mind the shower. I need you now.” He’d been in denial about how powerfully he wanted her. But ever since he’d tasted the forbidden fruit...

  “Mmm, me, too.”

  Travis practically ripped his own clothes off. They fell onto the bed, shoving blankets and pillows out of the way. He was kissing her everywhere, filling his hands with her breasts, and she had her hands on him, around him. And then he was squeezing her bottom and she was teasing his chest hair with her teeth and licking his nipples.

  No woman had ever done that to him before—treating him like a giant lollipop. But she was every bit as crazed as he was.

  “Now, Travis. Please,” she whimpered. “I’ve been thinking about this all day until I was almost batty with it.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She laughed hysterically. “Hurt me?”

  She was so soft and delicate, and he was so...well, hard. He was afraid of losing control. “What about—”

  “Right here.” She had the condom in her h
and, already out of the package. He thought the condoms were in her room.

  “I put a few in here while you were gone, okay?” she said, answering his unasked question. “I’m not trying to hide the fact that I planned for this. Hoped for it, anyway.”

  With a smile and a kiss he took the condom from her and managed it himself. He was afraid of losing control if she did it.

  She had him on his back and didn’t intend to let him up. Not that he couldn’t have reversed things any time he pleased, but this felt good. It was her seduction, after all; he’d let her see it through her way.

  She wasted no time straddling his hips and gently guiding him home. But once he was poised to enter her, she didn’t mess around. She enveloped him, a hot, tight, wet sleeve. The air whooshed out of her lungs as she lowered herself completely, allowing all of her weight onto him.

  “Ah, Elena.” She was so perfect. So perfectly formed. He could almost span her slender waist with his big hands. Her bottom was soft to the touch but with the underlying muscles of someone who was fit.

  And her breasts... He could write a sonnet about them. Maybe he would learn how to write better, just so he could do that. Even as he plunged inside her, he felt this odd urge to give her something special, something meaningful. As the pressure built in his loins, his heart expanded, too, and during those few, unguarded seconds when they became one, he let her in.

  As she got closer to coming, she swung her head from side to side, her beautiful hair flying every which way. Their sexual dance grew more frenzied. Travis’s thrusts were faster, harder, deeper.

  Then she screamed. If he hadn’t already been on the verge of his own personal earthquake, it might have scared him. Instead, he joined her with a cry of triumph that echoed through the whole house.

  Her scream devolved into semihysterical laughter. Moisture dropped onto his chest, and he realized she was crying. Laughing and crying at the same time.

  Wow.

  After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a few seconds, she calmed. Her frenetic breathing slowed, and she slumped against him as if she was exhausted. Her skin was coated with a light sheen of perspiration.

  “Sorry,” she whispered with a giggle. “I’m so sorry. I hope the neighbors don’t call the police.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, smiling so widely his face hurt. If anyone heard them, he doubted they would mistake the sounds they’d made for anything but shouts of passionate ecstasy.

  The last time they’d made love, there’d been no time for enjoying the afterglow. They’d been forced to leap out of bed and deal with that blasted broken pipe.

  Tonight was different. Here they were, pleasantly buzzed from their wine and beer, relaxed and satiated. It was late—no one was going to call. He hoped she would spend the night with him.

  After a few minutes, Elena stirred and shifted, moving from on top of him to beside him. She was nestled under his arm, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her hair covering them both.

  “I still need that shower,” he said.

  “No, you don’t,” she said firmly. “Please don’t leave. If you leave, you’ll get all sensible and bristly again. Just...stay here.”

  She didn’t have to twist his arm. “Not going anywhere.” If she wanted them to go to sleep like this, all wrapped around each other, still sticky with each other’s body fluids, he wasn’t going to argue.

  Travis wasn’t sure what lay ahead. But until the sun rose tomorrow, she was his and he was hers, and nothing and nobody could come between them.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MONDAY MORNING DAWNED gray and gloomy, the sky dark with impending rain. The forecast was for thunderstorms. But Travis tried not to let that bother him. He might have MacKenzie today.

  He woke up early, slipping out of bed while trying not to wake Elena. She’d stolen all the covers from him during the night; now she was sprawled on her stomach with the blankets heaped around her, one arm dangling off the edge, one foot hanging off the other edge.

  A king-size bed would be a necessity with this one, he thought with a grin.

  Once he’d showered and dressed, he went downstairs, started the coffeemaker and cleaned up the previous night’s dishes. He gathered up the open bottle of wine and the beer and put them in a brown paper sack, then carried the sack to his truck and locked it in the cargo area.

  A few fat drops of rain fell on him as he headed back inside, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

  He was surprised to find Elena in the kitchen when he returned, pouring herself a cup of coffee. He sneaked up behind her and kissed her on the side of her neck, and she giggled.

  They hadn’t had an opportunity to flirt and play like most couples. He hadn’t yet had the chance to court Elena, to take her out for dinner and a movie, buy her flowers. She deserved that, and he was going to give it to her.

  If she’d have him. If she wanted him that way. Their relationship—there was that word again—was unfolding in such an unorthodox way, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He would have to feel his way through it.

  “You already did the dishes,” she said.

  “I was up early. Couldn’t sleep. You want some breakfast?”

  “I’m starving.” She handed him a full mug of coffee, then got another one for herself. “I could make bacon and eggs. Or oatmeal.”

  Most days, he made do with cold cereal or a couple of toaster waffles. But this was their very first morning together—not counting when she was his hostage.

  “You sit down and relax. I’ll cook. I have to do something to make up for that dreadful pancake I made for you out in the woods.”

  “It was a pretty good pancake, actually. But I’m happy to have you cook. There’s nothing sexier than a man wearing an apron and oven mitts.”

  He whistled as he worked, quickly putting together a couple of spinach omelets and some toast. Elena ran upstairs to shower and dress. He was just scooping the second omelet out of the pan when she returned.

  “Do I look like a responsible nanny?” She’d put on a pair of conservative beige pants with a ribbed turtleneck. Her hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, and it appeared she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Her only jewelry was a plain gold watch with a black band and tiny gold hoops in her ears.

  The effect was sexy as hell. All he could think about was undressing her.

  “You look the picture of responsible nannydom,” he answered. She set the table while the eggs cooked. A loud clap of thunder shook the house as they sat down to breakfast.

  Elena glanced out the kitchen window. “Wow, it’s really coming down.”

  “Yeah. I hope the weather doesn’t stop Missy from coming today.” It wasn’t yet nine o’clock. They still had lots of time.

  Elena took her first bite of omelet. “Wow again. I was thinking how much I’ll miss Cora’s cooking—Cora is Daniel’s Cordon Bleu–trained chef. But if you keep this up, I won’t miss it at all.”

  “I used to make these for Eric.” Travis was pleased she liked his cooking. “It was the only way I could get him to eat any vegetables. But don’t kid yourself. My repertoire is limited. I know how to fix about five dishes. That’s it.”

  “You’ve got me beat. Maybe I’ll get a cookbook and learn a few more recipes. I can find out what MacKenzie likes.”

  “We can all learn together. MacKenzie’s not too young to help out. When I was her age, my mom always had me mash the potatoes.”

  “When I was her age, I would have killed for mashed potatoes,” Elena said absently. Then she flashed him a look of alarm, as if she hadn’t really meant to say the words out loud. “Sorry. That sounded an awful lot like I was trying to one-up you. ‘My childhood was crappier than yours.’ I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “The funny thing is I don’t consider
those times to be crappy at all. Looking back, I know we were poor, but I didn’t see it at the time. We were a family, a team. We took care of each other. It pissed me off when Social Services took me and Eric away from my mom. I know they had to—we were living in a car. But it was just temporary. We had food and clean clothes, and we bathed at least every couple of days at a truck stop. It was summer, so school wasn’t an issue. I thought we were on vacation.”

  Elena reached across the table and placed her hand on his forearm. “It sounds like she loved you a lot.”

  “She did.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Cancer. It happened while I was in the army. She didn’t tell me—didn’t want to bother me with it. Eric had just started college—he was oblivious. By the time I found out and I arranged for leave to come home, it was almost too late. She died less than twenty-four hours after I got home.”

  “Oh, Travis. I’m so sorry.”

  He touched her cheek. “Thanks. But it was a long time ago. She left me a letter insisting that I not be sad, that I go out and live my life and make her proud. I didn’t exactly do that.”

  “You’re doing it now. Look at how you’re running your own business, and how you’re trying to help Eric and MacKenzie. Of course she would be proud.”

  “Yeah, I bet she’d be crowing to all her friends in heaven about how I kidnapped a nice lady who was trying to help me—”

  “Travis. Stop. That’s over and done, okay?”

  Somehow, he had a hard time believing that was true. Against all odds, Elena had forgiven him; he believed that. But he’d gotten off so easy. No charges filed against him, no jail and the victim of his crime had turned into his ally.

  Things just didn’t work out like that. Actions had consequences. Any minute now, the other shoe would drop.

  They finished breakfast, cleared the dishes and cleaned the kitchen together until it sparkled.

  “Let’s do one more walk-through,” Travis said. “Just to make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

  Everything downstairs appeared to be in order. “Maybe I should have bought some pictures for the walls.”