by Brant, Kylie
His interest in warm water had lagged by the time he’d taken his shower. He’d run it as hard and as frigid as he could stand it. Unfortunately, the cold shower came a little late. He wasn’t a man given to impulses, so it was impossible to explain to himself just what the hell had happened in here a while ago. And why he had let it.
Let it? a voice jeered inside him. He’d invited it, designed it. He’d wanted to force Jaida to respond to him again. He’d wanted to prove to her, and to himself, that he had that kind of power over her.
The joke, he thought grimly, was on him. Because he’d lost control very quickly, about the time she’d started kissing him back. And after that there had been very little thought at all. She was the one with the inexplicable rare gift, but it was he who was going to spend the night with a vision in his head, one that had sliced through his desire with rapier sharpness.
It had been so clear. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, replaying the scene in his mind. He stifled a groan. That was exactly the line of thought a man shouldn’t engage in when he needed to get some sleep. But his body told him that sleep was not going to be quick to visit.
Resigned to a restless night, Trey let the mental picture unfurl again. He could see Jaida on his bed at home in California. He could see himself leaning over her, his hand tangling in her hair. The hours passed sleeplessly while his imagination lingered over the image of Jaida’s moon-glow hair spread out over his bed, spilling like white diamonds over his black, silk sheets.
# # # #
Neither of them was talkative the next morning. Jaida avoided Trey’s eyes as they swiftly packed and left the cabin. She put on her sunglasses when she reached the car, although the sun had just begun to splash color across the horizon. They rode in silence for a couple of hours before Trey pulled into a roadside cafe. The large breakfast they both ordered went a long way toward restoring Jaida’s good humor, but had noticeably less effect on Trey.
He’d returned, she observed silently, to the taciturn man she’d met in the valley. She snuck a look at him. His too-perfect profile could have been carved from granite. The only time he’d spoken at all this morning was when he’d asked, in a brief clipped tone, which town she wanted him to drive through first
Tourist towns dotted the eastern seaboard. She had been having him explore one, and then sometimes would ask him to backtrack to drive through another. He had been unabashedly verbal about his distaste for the practice yesterday. Today he followed her directions without comment.
She found that she would have preferred his sometimes sarcastic comments to his almost complete silence today. Jaida would have given a lot to know what he was thinking. Was he remembering last night and castigating himself for kissing her? She knew from experience that he was not above using such a distraction for his own reasons. It had been a very long time since she’d allowed a man close enough to touch her like that, to kiss her. She didn’t like the idea of being vulnerable to him and having him know it. But he was much too observant not to be aware of it. Indeed, at first he’d been exploiting their mutual reaction last night, almost taunting her with it. But then something had changed; he had changed.
Jaida shivered and sank down farther in her seat. His very real desire had been impossible to ignore, especially once she’d sensed his control spiraling away. That was the memory that had invaded her mind last night and kept her spinning wistful, hopeless dreams about him. She knew without asking that it was his loss of control he would he brooding over, rather than the woman who had evoked it.
It was well past noon before Trey flicked a glance at Jaida. She was slouched low, her head against the cushioned seat, arms wrapped around her middle. She’d been unnaturally quiet for the last few hours. She presented a much different picture from the woman he’d ridden with yesterday, who had spent the day with her face tilted skyward, inviting the sun’s kiss. Now she seemed withdrawn, despondent, and he mentally counted the hours since breakfast. He wasn’t hungry yet, but it was possible she needed to replenish her limitless demand for calories. He pulled into a gas station advertising groceries and turned off the ignition.
“Could I have the keys for a minute?” she requested.
“What for?”
“I want to get a sweater out of my suitcase.”
He handed her the keys. “If you’re cold you should have said something. I’ll put the top up.”
Not bothering to comment, Jaida got out, unlocked the trunk and retrieved her sweater. She slid back into the empty car and put the keys back into the ignition. Donning the sweater, she settled down to wait for Trey to return. He did shortly, carrying a sack with him. Before they left, he put the top up on the convertible and latched it into place. Jaida watched without comment. She could have told him that his efforts were in vain, but lacked the will to do so.
Trey got into the car, and they headed back to the interstate. “I bought you something to eat.” He nodded toward the sack, “There’s string cheese, potato chips and some candy bars. I figured your appetite alarm is due to go off any minute.”
Jaida smiled unwillingly. “Thanks.”
She made no move toward the sack, and he gave her a concerned look. “You’re not sick, are you?”
She almost smiled again at his suspicious tone. “No, I’m not sick.”
He frowned at her answer, but she didn’t embellish on it. They drove on in virtual silence again, and he used the time to try to figure out what was behind her unusual behavior. Had he offended her last night with that kiss? It hadn’t seemed so then, and he had been as attuned to her reactions as he had to his own. It had been a stupid move on his part, enacted for the sheer pleasure of it and nothing else. It had been so long since he’d done something unplanned, uncalculated, that he was having trouble accepting it now. He’d wanted to elicit that exciting electrical current that jumped between them each time they’d touched. And he’d wanted more than that. He’d wanted to see if that current would transfer to her veins, if the response went any deeper than the surface. He’d gotten his answer and more.
He’d spent most of his adult life masking the wildness of his nature. As a youngster he’d struck out at the world in any way he could, to make it pay for the losses in his life. His mother, his sister, his home . . . all had been taken away by the time he was ten. Everyone he encountered owed him something for that, or so he’d believed. It wasn’t until he’d met Colonel Lambert, and later started a career in the army, that he succeeded in developing an iron control, which he wielded most unbendingly on himself.
The first to lose control loses. The colonel’s words, spoken to him as a surly fifteen-year-old, had stuck with him ever since. He’d learned that lesson well over the years. And he prided himself on never losing control.
But last night it had evaporated. Jaida West wasn’t like the women he entered into relationships with. She wasn’t sophisticated and polished, with artful conversation and attention- getting ploys. And he was betting that she didn’t have a wealth of experience with men to draw from. That knowledge, accompanied by the intense physical response between them, had torched his own desires.
He knew too well that a man who wasn’t in control of himself could scarcely hope to control his surroundings. And yet, for the few brief moments he’d been pressed close to Jaida, he hadn’t been in control.
He hadn’t recognized the strange compulsion he’d had to force her to admit the response she had to him, to demand she tell him it was experienced solely with him. And he wasn’t comfortable with the deep satisfaction her admission had elicited and the compelling need to explore it further.
He should never have touched her. Not because it hadn’t been planned and had served no useful purpose in the search for his nephew. And not because it had represented such a departure from a lifetime of careful habit. But because now it would be impossible to forget the feel of her or the taste. And he’d never get rid of the mental picture of her sprawled out over the slick, inky backdrop of his
own sheets.
“Where to?” he fairly snapped when they came to the next town. He glanced sharply at Jaida. She hadn’t said a word since he’d stopped to buy the food, nor had she touched the sack. Although with the top up he found it rather warm in the car, she had her legs drawn up and the sweater wrapped around her knees.
“South,” she murmured, not bothering to look at him. Her head was relaxed against the seat again.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” he questioned gruffly. “You shouldn’t be cold. It’s eighty-four degrees outside, warmer than yesterday. Maybe you’re getting the flu.”
The chill permeating her bones had nothing to do with the temperature or illness, but she wondered how to explain that to him. “We’re getting nearer,” she replied quietly. “The colder I get, the closer I’ll know we’re getting.”
He involuntarily lifted his foot from the accelerator, stunned at her words. “What do you mean, we’re getting nearer?” he croaked.
Her eyes behind her glasses were shut. She was so tired. Normally she needed long hours of rest after being buffeted by psychic storms, but she’d gotten precious little of that since Trey had come into her life. “Just keep driving,” she said. She didn’t need to have her eyes open to recognize the place when she came to it. The recognition would seep into her bones with a deep, pervasive cold impossible to overlook. She just hoped that what they would find when they finally arrived wasn’t going to tear the Garrison family apart with pain.
Trey pressed down on the accelerator more firmly, and the car spurted forward. Calling himself all kinds of fool, he couldn’t discount the anticipation building in his gut. Logic still wanted to insist that Jaida West was a fraud. But logic couldn’t explain her forays into his mind, her inexplicable knowledge of things he kept tightly locked away from others. That knowledge made her a threat, to his cautious defenses and his carefully managed life. He couldn’t help hoping her ability would prove as accurate in this instance. Even as his rational mind jeered at him, the speedometer steadily climbed. And the car continued in the direction she’d indicated.
“We have to walk from here.”
He turned to look at her, instantly uneasy at the picture she made. She was completely still, her cheeks ashen. He was about to question her again about the state of her health, but in the next moment she opened her car door and got out. Not waiting for him, she started swiftly toward the beach.
Trey easily caught up with her and they walked in silence down the picturesque boardwalk, until she came to a stone wall about three feet high that separated the street from the sandy beaches.
Jaida leaned forward slightly, her gaze sweeping the beach slowly, before coming to rest on a spot a hundred yards away. She stared for so long and so fixedly that Trey involuntarily followed the direction of her gaze, a chill prickling his spine. There was nothing of interest to see there, as far as he could observe. Children played noisily, couples sunned together and the odd brightly colored parasail dotted the sky overhead.
There was no toddler, large for his age, with a shock of dark hair and a babyishly charming grin.
Disappointment surged through him, strong and bitter. “Jaida.” His voice was harsh. “Go back to the car.”
She moved, but not in the direction he’d ordered. Instead, she turned away and started up another street.
“This is ridiculous. You can’t expect me to believe that . . . dammit, come back here.” He strode after her. “Where are you going now?”
“I’m walking around the town.” The same streets that someone had strolled Benjy through, past the same stores, the same buildings. She never bothered to look at him. “You can go back to the car and wait if you wish.” She neither noticed nor cared whether he followed.
It was a quaint town, one maintained primarily for the tourists it attracted during the summer months. They passed eateries, arcades and laundries. Jaida never hesitated before any of them. She trudged past the antique stores and souvenir stands. Finally she came to a stop.
Trey gave her a wary look. “What is it?”
“In there.” Her breath left her with a visible shudder and she pulled her sweater closer around her. She was an oddity on the street, with most people milling around in swimsuits and tank tops.
He gazed past her and frowned. “An ice-cream shop? You want to stop for ice cream now?” His voice was disbelieving.
She pulled open the door and went inside. The air conditioner in the small shop hummed. A man with brown hair and a mustache wiped off the counter in front of him with a lazy purpose that spoke of a slow day. He looked up as the bell over the door signaled their arrival.
“What can I get you folks?”
Trey glanced at Jaida, but she said nothing, seemingly frozen in place. Her breathing was noticeably labored.
“We got over forty flavors,” the man behind the counter offered. “They’re all up on the sign. And we’re running a special. If you want to sample the new trial flavor, you can suggest a name for it. Winner of the best name will get a gallon of ice cream each month for a year.” He slung the rag he’d been cleaning with over his shoulder. Long moments stretched and he glanced, puzzled, from Trey to Jaida and back. “You guys want something, or what?”
“Your lost and found.” Jaida’s voice sounded hoarse and strained. “Do you have one?”
The man didn’t answer, appearing to find her manner odd.
After a swift look at Jaida’s white, set features and trembling lips, Trey stepped in. He gave the man a rueful smile. “Sorry. We’re not here for ice cream, at least not this time. We were here—” his hesitation was barely noticeable “—a couple of days ago. My . . . wife lost something, and she’s hoping she left it here that day. What do you do with lost items?”
The man seemed to accept Trey’s explanation with alacrity. “We’ve got a box in the back room. We keep things for about a month. You wouldn’t believe what we find in here. Craziest things . . .” His words were lost as he entered the back room. He returned moments later with a large box. “Go ahead and look through this stuff if you want. There’s nothing real valuable in here, although there have been times we’ve found wallets, rings, ladies’ purses, the works.”
Jaida focused on the box he was holding out to Trey. She remained rooted in place. After a glance toward her, Trey took the box from the man and set it on the floor in front of him. Cursing silently, he started going through the items, unsure even what to pretend to be searching for. The man had been right; there was all manner of odds and ends in the box. Beach towels, sunglasses, hats and, inexplicably, a bikini top. Then his hand faltered in its search. Slowly, disbelievingly, he pushed aside the rest of the items and grasped what he’d at first thought was another towel. Freeing it from the rest of the junk, he drew out a small blanket.
It wasn’t the sort of thing one would expect to take to the beach. It was small and quilted, printed with a selection of friendly animals, all smiling merrily. The colors had faded from their original state of primary brightness, and one end was looking rather ragged. It brought an immediate sense of recognition to his gut, and a hard knot formed in his throat.
It was the same blanket his nephew had clutched in his fist every day since he’d begun to crawl.
Trey’s eyes slowly lifted to meet Jaida’s.
It was the same blanket that had been in Benjy’s stroller the day he’d vanished.
Chapter 9
“I’ve already told you, Detective, it doesn’t just look like Benjy’s blanket, it is his. I’m certain of it.” Trey paused to listen to the man’s response on the phone. His voice lost all semblance of civility. “Yes, it was purchased commercially, and no, I don’t have any idea how many blankets just like that were sold. But one corner of Benjy’s blanket was getting frayed, and this blanket has the same . . .” After a brief pause he said harshly, “What the hell do you mean, coincidence? A damn DNA test will prove I’m right.”
The one-sided conversation drifted clearly throu
gh the open French doors. Jaida sat outside the motel room on a small terrace overlooking a Tidy-Bowl blue pool. The sun was fading in glorious splendor, but the beauty of her surroundings was lost on her. She wanted to put her head down on the plastic white table in front of her and be sent off into immediate, oblivious slumber. She didn’t move. Sleep, if it came at all, would be impossible for many more hours.
It took an enormous effort to turn her head enough to see Trey profiled in the room, his expression forbidding. “For a man who’s come up with nothing so far on the disappearance of my nephew, you’re damn casual about the first real lead we’ve got in this case.” He listened for another moment, then snarled dangerously, “Fine. I’ll Express Mail it to you tomorrow morning to take to the lab. And I want you to pass this information along to the Bureau. Maybe they’ll take it more seriously than you do.” He replaced the receiver with an audible bang.
Trey seemed to have forgotten her presence. He wheeled around agitatedly, and his gaze fell upon the crumpled child’s quilt lying on the top of the bed. With footsteps slow and measured, he moved to the bed and reached down to pick it up. His fingers clenched on the soft, worn material, and the muscles in his jaw worked reflexively. He sank down on the edge of the bed and dropped his head, Benjy’s quilt clutched in his big hand.
The poignancy of the scene brought Jaida out of her psychic-induced lethargy. Her heart ached for him. The sight of that dark head, so proud and confident, bent in sorrow stirred something in her she didn’t dare name. But it was impossible to see Trey in pain and not wish to offer comfort.
She approached him silently and dropped to her knees in front of him. He didn’t look at her. For a long time they were both quiet. His voice, when it came, sounded rusty.