The Forbidden Bride

by Debra Cowan

  Over the past week, the two of them had kept in touch about the Mailman cases, but as there had been nothing new, they and Collier had handled other cases or issues needing their attention. Nate had checked in each day with one of them, but this was the first time he had seen Robin in several days.

  Though they had worked together just fine during those days, an underlying tension hummed between them. He knew it was because of their agreement to step back from that kiss. An agreement he had come to appreciate more with each passing day.

  He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to get naked with her, but he sensed there would be more than sex involved, and he didn’t want that. One failed relationship was enough for him.

  In addition to his keen awareness of her, there was a subtle but insistent strain that had to do with work. He felt it, knew Robin and Collier did, too.

  As much as he hoped none of them got a call tonight about another fire-murder, he had a bad feeling in his gut.

  Excusing himself from Gage and Meredith, Nate walked into the red-and-white kitchen for a beer. Collier and his brother, Walker, were there. Nate snagged a cold bottle of beer from a cooler on the floor beside the island and joined the McClain brothers. He knew Walker from a couple of pickup basketball games they had all played together. Their conversation centered around sports and Presley’s upcoming Fourth of July parade.

  Walker’s wife, Jen, stood against a length of counter talking to Robin and firefighter Shelby Jessup. Nate wasn’t sure of the connection between Robin and Shelby, but he remembered Collier telling him Robin and Jen had worked an undercover serial murder investigation together to try and determine if Walker had turned vigilante after the murder of his first wife.

  Clay Jessup, whom Nate had met at the charity softball game, came in for a beer, stopping to chat for a minute before returning with his wife to the group in the living room.

  After Walker introduced his wife, the couple wandered into the living room, leaving Collier, Nate and Robin in the kitchen. Just as he had done all evening, Nate searched her face for some sign in her striking features that showed how she was handling the information she had learned about her ex-fiancé and her sister.

  He had met Robin’s parents earlier when they stopped briefly at the party on their way to a previous engagement. If Collier hadn’t told him the Daly family had celebrated her birthday yesterday on the actual date, he would have thought it strange they hadn’t stayed. Nate wondered if that family get-together had included Wendy.

  Collier pulled a white chair from the nearby dining table and straddled it backwards. “Do we have anything new on Tiffany Jarvis? Anything to link her to the Mailman?”

  “Not yet,” Robin said. “The search warrant for her house didn’t turn up envelopes, chlorine powder or petroleum jelly, nothing remotely connected to the accelerant used in these fire-murders, and we’ve had no reason to question her again.”

  Nate took another swallow of beer as he leaned back against the kitchen island. Only a few feet separated him and Robin, who stood across from him next to the refrigerator. The turquoise dress made her eyes even more blue.

  Nate turned his attention back to their discussion. “The second interview Daly and I had with Sheila Bane’s sister didn’t get us any closer to proving Dennis Bane was having an affair. She didn’t recognize Tiffany’s name or face.”

  “Or Pattie Roper’s,” Robin put in.

  That was the woman who had dated their first victim about six months prior to his death, Nate recalled. It was good that Robin still had the woman on her radar. “We’ve connected Pattie Roper to victim number one and Tiffany Jarvis to victim three, but that’s it.”

  “If we could figure out the Mailman’s motive, it would help,” Robin said impatiently.

  “I’m afraid we won’t get a new lead unless there’s another fire-murder.” McClain pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate thinking more people will probably die before we catch this SOB.”

  Knowing it was very possible, Nate nodded grimly.

  “Collier?” a feminine voice said quietly from the kitchen doorway.

  Nate turned to see Kiley McClain motioning her husband over.

  The big man chuckled. “My wife is paging me. See y’all in a bit.”

  Now alone with Robin, Nate studied her. He’d been doing a lot of that since she arrived this evening. Why not? It wasn’t as though he was going to do something stupid and touch her. His libido was firmly leashed. He had kept his hands off her for three weeks. He could do it for three hours.

  The air conditioner hummed beneath the din of voices from the Spencers’ big front room. Scents of perfume and the outdoors and a heaping platter of chocolate chip cookies on the island mingled.

  Nate and Robin were in plain view of everyone, and he was aware of the group of people in the other room, but he didn’t really see anyone except her.

  He’d been careful to keep his distance since she had walked into the Spencer house earlier in the evening, and it hadn’t helped a damn bit. His whole body was tight.

  His gaze locked on her mouth. The gloss of pale pink there made him want to kiss it off. He took a drink of his beer.

  Her gaze searched his face. “I saw you talking to Meredith and Gage.”

  “Yes.” Nate glanced into the living room and saw the couple with their hostess. “Terra said she was glad I accepted the invitation and Meredith didn’t act as though she wanted to carve me into little pieces. I guess that’s because of you.”

  She nodded. “I told them that you had been the one to tell me about Kyle and my sister.”

  “How are you doing with everything?”

  “You mean Wendy?”

  “Yeah.”

  When she looked away, he decided she must still not want to talk about anything except work. For some reason, that irritated him. So much so that he almost missed her next words.

  “I think we need some ice. Terra told me there’s an extra bag in the garage freezer.”

  As she started through the utility room, she looked over her shoulder at him and it finally registered she was inviting him along.

  Pretty quick, Houston. “Need help?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  She wanted to talk privately. He ignored the voice telling him being alone with her might not be the best idea. Setting his half-empty beer bottle on the island, Nate followed her.

  He closed the door quietly behind them and moved the few feet to the freezer in the corner. Even beneath the faint oily smell of car fuel and the outdoors, Nate caught her gut-twisting scent. Want slid under his skin.

  He forced his gaze to the far wall where an assortment of yard tools hung from a Peg-Board. “How are things between you and your sister? Have the two of you talked yet?”

  “No. She’s still trying to get me to do that.” Robin paused. “She was here last night for my actual birthday. We went to dinner with our parents.”

  “How did it go?”

  “We were civil, but my parents sensed something was going on. When my mom asked what it was, I told her I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I plan to take my time, like you suggested. If I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll do to Wendy what I did to Kyle.”

  Nate heard what she said, understood it, but he was distracted by the soft pink of her mouth.

  She tucked a silky strand of dark hair behind her ear, looking up at him with a vulnerability and warmth that had him going still inside.

  “The more I think about what you did, how you protected me, the more I’m…amazed. Touched.”

  “Robin—”

  “Just say ‘you’re welcome.’”

  “You’re welcome.” He was hit with a sudden need to put his hands on her, taste her again.

  She edged closer and cupped his jaw. This past week, she had been restless, nagged by a vague sense of dissatisfaction, of wanting something. Tonight when she had seen Nate, she had known what. Him.

  Unfortunately, she could tell he was going to continue doin
g what she had asked of him three weeks ago, and keep their relationship strictly professional. If things were going to change between them, she would have to be the one to take the first step.

  The fabric of his red polo shirt stretched across his wide, muscular chest, had her fingers itching to touch him to see if it was as hard as it looked. As she drew in his scent, it seemed impossible to stop staring at his mouth.

  She stepped toward him. “I told you I needed time to deal with what happened between us. Is that why you haven’t asked me about it again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you thought about it? The kiss, I mean.”

  “Yes. Have you?”

  Encouraged by the frank male interest in his eyes, she nodded. “Do you think our agreement to stick to business only was smart?”

  “Considering our track record with relationships, yes,” he said carefully. “I don’t ever want to go through the kind of hell caused by my divorce again. One failure like that is enough for me.”

  “Same here.” Robin eased closer. “But I’ve been thinking about changing our agreement.”

  He didn’t move.

  Taking that as a good sign, she leaned into him, her breasts brushing his chest. A muscle twitched in his jaw. She looked up at him, suddenly breathless at the banked heat in his eyes.

  It hit her then, that skittish feeling she had gotten the one time they had kissed. The sense of stepping off the edge into the unknown. But she was in control this time. She knew what she wanted. “What would you think about taking things to another level?”

  “Define that,” he demanded roughly.

  “Getting naked.”

  His eyes, dark with desire, never left hers.

  “Are you up for that?”

  “Yes, but I don’t do relationships. Note my divorce,” he said wryly.

  “That’s on your ex-wife. You tried, and one person alone can’t save a marriage. Besides, that isn’t what I want.”

  “What then?”

  “You. More.” She smoothed a hand across his right shoulder then lightly curled her hand around his nape. “No strings, just to see what happens.”

  He settled one hand lightly at her waist. “What about keeping things strictly business for the time being?”

  “I think time’s up,” she said quietly, pulling his head down to hers.

  He was prepared to let her control everything, but the first touch of her lips on his set off something inside him. Something wild and huge, primal, unfamiliar.

  Wrapping one arm around her waist, he picked her up, backing her into the stretch of wall between the door leading into the house and the freezer. He held her tight to him, supporting both of them by bracing one hand on the wall.

  After their first frantic taste of each other, he tried to slow down so he could savor the dark velvet of her mouth. The ragged moan spilling from her throat unleashed a raging torrent of heat inside him, a savage, overwhelming need to possess her.

  Her arms tightened around his neck and her breasts pressed against him. He was fleetingly grateful for the wall at her back, because his legs felt like sand.

  Dragging his mouth from hers, he buried his face in her fragrant hair, nipped her earlobe before moving down the length of her elegant neck. He touched his tongue to the hollow of her throat, where he could feel the wild beat of her pulse.

  He wanted to take his time, enjoy the honeyed taste of her warm flesh, but the husky whisper of his name had hard, hot need ripping through him.

  He fisted a hand in her hair, pulling her head back to take her mouth again, as he slid a hand up over her ribs and brushed his thumb across her taut nipple. He wished he could unzip her dress, see her naked flesh, but he was dimly aware that they could be interrupted at any moment.

  The kiss changed, settled into a slow, giving exploration. She melted against him, every soft curve nestled against the rigid lines of his body. Damn, she felt good.

  She drew away slightly, looking up at him with dazed blue eyes. Feeling dazed himself, he rested his forehead against hers.

  She moved against him, her breathing as ragged as his. “That’s what I was talking about.”

  Bending his head, he dropped a kiss on the bare skin where her shoulder met her neck. He nuzzled her jaw, her cheek. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

  “Me, too.” Her lips met his in a deep, languid kiss.

  One of her soft hands cupped his jaw, the other moved down his chest, then curled into the waistband of his jeans.

  The muscles of his abdomen tightened in anticipation. He pressed her hips more firmly into his.

  She went still.

  Muscles tensed in frustration, he groaned. “What’s wrong?”

  Her mouth was wet and swollen from his. A wash of color stained her cheeks. “I think your phone is ringing.”

  Now he heard the low-pitched ring tone. It took a second for his body to cool down enough so that his brain could work. When it did, apprehension knotted his gut.

  Another fire-murder? He read the same dread in Robin’s eyes.

  Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he fished the phone from his jeans pocket. His gut hollowed out as his boss confirmed his earlier apprehension. And even though Nate hadn’t even seen the crime scene yet, he knew with sick certainty it was the work of the Mailman. When he disconnected, the same grim knowledge was in Robin’s face.

  “Where is it?”

  “A summer camp for kids, outside Marshall City.”

  “Isn’t that about seventy-five miles southwest of Presley?” At his nod, she asked, “Fatalities?”

  “One. Caucasian male, early to midfifties.”

  “So, you have to go.”

  “We have to go, all three of us.”

  “Right.” She shook her head, looking sheepish. “Right.”

  She flushed a pretty pink, and he was glad to see he wasn’t the only one reeling from what had just happened.

  “We should tell Collier,” he said.

  Her eyes were still soft with arousal. “I need to change clothes.”

  “That’s a shame,” he murmured. “Because you look great. Every inch of you looks great.”

  Standing this close to her, still touching her, made it difficult to slow his heart rate. Somehow he made himself let her go.

  She turned to go back into the house, then swung around. “Oh, the ice.”

  “I’ll get it.” Nate reached into the freezer and grabbed a bag, then followed her slowly into the house, hoping like hell no one would notice his body’s response to her.

  Too bad he couldn’t spend some time in that freezer. So much for keeping his hands—or anything else—off her.

  He had an intense, extreme reaction to her on every level, not just the physical.

  No woman had ever had such an effect on him. Ever. It was unwelcome. A little frustrating. A connection he hadn’t ever experienced.

  The fact that he had tried to protect her, then and now, from her lying, cheating bastard of an ex meant Nate had invested more of himself in her, with her, than he had with any woman since his ex. The realization had him sideways.

  For the first time since his divorce, he had found a woman he didn’t want to walk away from, but he wasn’t sure he could stay, either.

  During the entire drive to Spur Creek Camp, Robin’s nerves were humming. If she and Nate had kissed much longer, she would have been ready to say yes to anything.

  She had driven her own car because she probably wouldn’t need to stay as long as he and maybe Collier. The men had ridden in Nate’s SUV.

  Since finding out about her sister and ex-fiancé, Robin had turned off as much emotion as possible, letting the pain and anger trickle in as she felt she could handle it. She had insulated herself, almost as though she’d been living in a bubble.

  The instant her lips had touched Nate’s, the bubble had burst. Sensation had flooded in. The feel of his firm lips against hers, the hard strength of his body, his strong arm wrapped so
far around her that his fingers rested just beneath her breast.

  Even before that scorching kiss in the garage, she had admitted she wanted him. She was able to do that because her perception of him had changed. At first because she had learned what he’d done for her at the wedding, and then as a result of working with him on the task force.

  Now they had a new fire-murder. The Mailman had killed again, and the responsibility for that weighed on her. She knew Nate and Collier felt it as acutely as she did. And if she didn’t get her head out of the clouds, this serial arsonist-murderer would continue burning and killing people.

  As she drove under the iron arch entrance marked Spur Creek Camp, the acrid stench of smoke reached her. She topped a hill and started down the other side, her headlights cutting through the gray-brown haze drifting across the old tree-lined asphalt road.

  Surrounded by woods, the camp was illuminated by lights mounted high on telephone poles. A large central building was flanked by six cabins on each side. A mobile home trailer sat under a sprawling oak. Between there and the main building was a long structure, which Robin assumed to be showers and restrooms.

  The center building was burned away, smoldering in the blinding brightness of Nate’s portable floodlights.

  Three police cars, lights strobing, sat on the perimeter of the scene. She showed her badge to the closest officer and checked in, then parked her car behind his.

  The firefighters had contained the blaze to this main building, and now the mess hall was propped up by charred and seared beams.

  Stepping out into the sultry July night, Robin tugged on the steel-soled boots Collier had loaned her when they had investigated the first Mailman fire. The medical examiner’s wagon sat near the mobile home, the open back door revealing a body bag holding the lone victim of this fire.

  The wind, mostly blocked by the woods surrounding the campground, was heavy with smoke and swirling ash. Robin pulled her hair into a ponytail as she walked up to Nate and Collier, who stood at the edge of the burn area talking to a gaunt-looking man in a police uniform.

  The man walked away as Robin approached. Nate gestured toward him. “That was Sergeant Hardin. He’s going to have his officers fan out and search the area, see if they can find anyone hanging around. We’ve got one victim and one survivor.”