Sultry

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  “Yeah, you can,” Mitch said, his tone unruffled. “You knew when I told you I was through, I meant it.”

  “Right,” Avery replied sarcastically. “I forgot. You’re the man who says what he means and means what he says.”

  “Another right, Bubba.”

  Avery scowled. “And you’re still full of shit. That doesn’t ever change, either.”

  Mitch chuckled, then watched as the agent lumbered out of his chair and strode to the coffeepot in the far corner of the room. Avery refilled his cup before swinging around and holding out the pot, his eyebrows raised in a question.

  “No, thanks,” Mitch said. “Your memory is getting fuzzy. After midmorning, I don’t drink that nasty stuff.”

  Without responding, Avery replaced the pot and returned to his chair.

  During the short silence, Mitch’s eyes perused the room, waiting for that old gut-sinking feeling to wash over him, or bite him on the ass.

  Thank God he felt nothing except an immense amount of relief that he no longer had to report to duty in this office, or in this building, for that matter.

  “I take it you’re not jerking my nuts, Rawlins—that you do have a legitimate case against your brother-in-law.”

  “With the Bureau’s help, that’s what I hope to find out.”

  Avery suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “Look, I’m sorry about your…baby. Despite what you think, I’m not an unfeeling bastard.”

  When Mitch had called to make this appointment, Avery had pinned him down as to what he expected from the Bureau and why. As briefly and unemotionally as possible, Mitch had explained what had happened. At that time, Ken had made no comment, personal or otherwise.

  Now he seemed eager to make amends, which somehow touched Mitch. “Thanks, Ken,” he muttered.

  “So how ’bout we put a tail on the good doctor, see where he goes and who he sees? Will that suffice?”

  Mitch fought down the bitterness that shot up the back of his throat in the form of hot bile. “That’s a start.”

  “Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about what you can do for us.”

  Mitch relaxed his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Shoot.”

  A little while later Mitch walked out into the sunlight, his gut heavy with dread. Hell, he didn’t want to leave town. He didn’t want to leave Lindsay. But he had no choice.

  He’d given his word that he would track down a missing witness, and he would. At the moment, however, he longed to seek Lindsay out and finish what they had started that morning.

  God, how he wanted her, how he ached for her. But even more than that, he felt the urgent need to tell her that he loved her, to confess that his only mission in life was simply to love her and shield her from further pain and harm. But right now, approaching her was not an option.

  He could only pray that one day it would be.

  Thirty-Four

  “Hell, Harv, I should’ve been a shrink.”

  Dr. Harvey Milbrook peered at Cooper over his small, rimless glasses, his dark eyebrows raised. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you have great hours and no stress,” Cooper pointed out, lifting a leg and crossing it over the opposite knee.

  The doctor’s pen hit the mat on his desk so hard that Cooper wondered if he’d thrown it down.

  “No stress? Stress is the name of this game.”

  Cooper snorted, though a smile of sorts flirted with his lips. “You ought to try maneuvering a knife in and around someone’s heart.”

  Dr. Milbrook frowned. “Jesus, Cooper, what’s the matter with you? Somehow I don’t think you came here to talk about stress—at least not yours or mine.” He paused. “Or did you?”

  “Of course not,” Cooper said in a sharp tone. “I’m fine and dandy.”

  “But there is something going on—something that you’re worried about.”

  “You must be a pretty good shrink if you can read me.”

  Milbrook smiled. “That’s what I get paid the big bucks for—to read you and anyone else who happens to walk through that door.”

  “Hell, Harvey, I’m not sure I like that.”

  “Sure you do. That’s why you’ve spent a fortune with me on Lindsay’s behalf.”

  Cooper blew out a stagnant breath. “Speaking of Lindsay—”

  “That’s why you’re here.” The doctor’s words were a blunt statement of fact. “I knew that when you walked in, only you had to tell me in your own time.”

  “Ah, hell, you can’t stop using your skills on me.”

  Milbrook chuckled. “You’re still as feisty as ever, my friend.”

  “Bad ticker and all, huh?”

  “As long as it’s ticking, that’s what counts.”

  Cooper sobered. “That it is, and well, too.”

  “So what’s the problem with sweet Lindsay?”

  “She’s about as mixed up as I’ve ever seen her.”

  “How so?” Milbrook asked in an easy tone.

  Cooper stood, then sat back down.

  “For chrissake, you’re as jittery as a dog in heat. Maybe I should put you over on the sofa.”

  “Not in this lifetime,” Cooper muttered savagely.

  But Milbrook was right. He was jittery. And mad. Mad as hell. At Lindsay.

  “So let’s hear what’s on your mind,” Milbrook said, that easy calm still in place.

  “Lindsay’s way out of control.”

  “In your opinion.”

  Cooper scowled. “That’s right. And it’s my opinion that counts.”

  “She’s grown, Cooper, and married, to boot.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Cooper said darkly. “But not for long, if I have anything to do with it.”

  “What about the baby? How do you feel about her losing it?”

  Cooper heaved a sigh. “No doubt I want a grandchild. In fact, I’m looking forward to that event—only not under these circumstances.”

  “Then you think Lindsay losing the baby was for the best.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Does she know how you feel?”

  Cooper picked a piece of lint off his trousers, then rolled it into a ball. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

  “So what this is about is control. You’re losing control of your daughter.”

  Cooper shook his head in denial. “No, it’s about my daughter playing Russian roulette with the rest of her life. Mitch Rawlins is not for her. He’s not good enough for her.”

  “Don’t you mean for you, Cooper?”

  Cooper leaned forward, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Whose side are you on?”

  “Lindsay’s. She’s my patient.”

  “But I’m paying the bill.”

  “True, but you know the drill.”

  “Fuck the drill,” Cooper said.

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Convince my daughter that she needs to get rid of this guy and get on with her life.”

  “Are they living together yet?”

  “No, which makes me think there’s hope that her sanity will return before it’s too late. Otherwise…”

  “Otherwise what?”

  Cooper sank his hands into the soft leather arms of the high-backed chair and met Milbrook’s direct gaze head-on. “Otherwise I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like having my daughter committed,” Cooper said in a cold tone.

  Would her plan work?

  She hoped so, though she wasn’t sure it was the best plan—or even a smart one, for that matter. But for the time being, it was all she had. She had been tempted to go to Cooper, to tell him what Tim was supposedly into. That temptation had only been fleeting, because she knew her daddy wouldn’t believe her, especially if he knew Mitch was involved.

  Still, she also knew it was just a matter of time until Cooper found out what was going on. If nothing else, Mitch would see to that.

  Shrugging those unwanted thoughts aside, Lindsay
forced herself to concentrate on what she was about to do. When she had gotten behind the wheel of her car after dinner, she’d had every intention of going back to visit Mary Jane, only her plans hadn’t worked out that way.

  The evening had started out more dismally than usual. Cooper had gone out to dinner—not that he would have been any company, anyway. They were barely speaking. And Mitch wasn’t getting back until late—not that she would have fared any better with him. They weren’t speaking at all.

  She suspected those factors contributed to this well-brained scheme to go to the Newman Clinic. Now, as she stood in front of the door, she cast a furtive look around, then jammed the key in the lock and thrust it open. Despite the fact that Cooper had given her a key to the building, she felt like an intruder. Maybe because she was an intruder.

  She had come here for the sole purpose of scouting for incriminating evidence against her brother, for something solid that would point to his guilt or innocence.

  Lindsay desperately wanted to believe in the latter, but she feared the worst. If only he’d looked her in the eye when she’d confronted him, she might feel differently, might give him the benefit of the doubt. Not once, however, had he met her gaze. Thus, this clandestine visit.

  Taking a wary breath, she made her way directly to Tim’s office, though she had no idea what she was looking for. Even if she found tons of sample drugs, she wouldn’t know the defective or mislabeled ones from the legitimate ones.

  So what was she doing there?

  She had to do something, she rebuked herself. If Tim was in any way responsible for her baby’s death, then she had to know it. And he had to pay. That thought filled her with such dread that for a few seconds her limbs felt frozen.

  Then she rallied, chiding herself for turning cowardly. She’d had the courage to come here. The rest would be a cakewalk. With that in mind, she crossed into Tim’s office and headed straight for his massive desk.

  She opened three drawers before she found it. The black ledger was the only thing in that particular drawer. Feeling herself getting excited over what would most likely turn out to be nothing of importance, she removed it.

  She flipped on the desk lamp, sat in his chair and opened the ledger to page one. After a few moments, her emotions were scattered all over the chart. She didn’t know which was more clear-cut—sadness or joy.

  She had struck pay dirt. Oh, she didn’t know exactly what all the information meant, but what little she did understand was definitely incriminating.

  Suddenly sadness overrode the joy in her heart. Oh, Tim, she cried silently, how could you? How could you stoop to such a level?

  “Damn him!” she muttered, slamming the ledger shut, then blinking rapidly. But she couldn’t stop the tears. They trickled down her cheeks, scalding her skin. She reached for a tissue, only to stop mid-action.

  Voices.

  Tim and someone else whom she didn’t recognize. She had to disappear. But where? Frantic, she looked around. Inside the storage closet? Or behind the heavy drapes? The closet. It was the only logical place. What if Tim had to get something out of it? Where then? She would be caught red-handed. Still, after surveying the situation, that was her only course of action, because the men were already in the outer office.

  If she didn’t move now, she might as well stay put and suffer the consequences. To hell with that! Tim was the one who was in the wrong, not her.

  She had barely made it to her hiding place when they sauntered into the room. Lindsay sucked in her breath and held it while she listened.

  “So what has your shorts in a wad?” the stranger asked Tim.

  “The fact that you didn’t tell me the truth.”

  His companion laughed a sinister laugh. “Are you really that naive, doctor, or just that stupid?”

  “What I am is pissed off and about to own a piece of your ass.”

  “I don’t think so,” the man said in a low, controlled tone. “If you’ll think about it, it’s the other way around.”

  “You assured me the drugs were okay—that they weren’t harmful.”

  The man laughed. “We do our best, but it’s not a perfect world.”

  “Damn you!” Tim spat. “I just want you to take your sorry goods out of here.”

  “Greed, doctor. Your own greed is your worst enemy.”

  “That’s beside the point now. You duped me, Freeman. What I want to know is how the hell can I get out of this mess with my hide intact?”

  “That’s your problem, Newman. But I’m warning you, if you try to involve me and my people, you’ll be sorrier than you already are. As far as taking the stuff, you can forget that. It ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Get the fuck out of my face,” Tim said, his voice coated in fury.

  “No problem,” the man said in a smooth tone. “But don’t even think about weaseling out of the deal, because that ain’t gonna happen either. You’re in this for the long haul. Remember that.”

  Lindsay didn’t hear Tim’s response, because both men left the room together. When she thought they’d had enough time to exit the building and the parking lot, she bolted.

  Once in her car, she sat still, grasping the ledger against her chest, shaking all over, in such a state that she couldn’t even throw up, though the urge to do so was there. Only after she sucked air deep into her lungs was she able to think rationally.

  Should she go to Cooper or Mitch? She weighed her options.

  If she went to Mitch, Tim would be in serious trouble. And despite what Tim had done, the idea of turning him in was repugnant.

  On the other hand, taking the ledger to her daddy would mean the whole illegal mess would be swept under the proverbial rug. Cooper was a master at that.

  “Oh, Tim, Tim,” she whispered.

  With hot tears once again making their way down her face, she started the car and wheeled out of the parking lot.

  Thirty-Five

  Mitch cursed all the way to the door. He didn’t have any idea who his visitor was, nor did he care. He didn’t want company. He wanted to be left alone to nurse his anger and frustration.

  But when he jerked open the door and saw Lindsay, his own feelings ceased to matter. She looked so broken, so fragile, that for a moment his heart leapt to his throat, almost strangling him.

  “God, Lindsay, are you okay?” he finally managed to get out.

  “I…didn’t know what else to do,” she whispered painfully.

  He had no idea what she was talking about, but that didn’t matter, either. She was here with him, where he could hold her and protect her, and that was really all he wanted to do.

  If someone had told him that this would happen to him, that the love of a lifetime would blindside him, he would have laughed in their face. But as sure as God made little green apples, it had happened.

  Despite all the odds against them, he loved Lindsay, and he would go to his grave loving her.

  “It’s all right, darling.” He reached for her, en-folded her trembling body in his arms, and simply held her. And while her tremors soon subsided somewhat, her limbs remained rigid, as if she were frozen inside.

  He pushed her back a little so that he could see her face, which had been ravaged by tears. Dear Lord, what had happened?

  As if she could read his thoughts, she said, “Please don’t ask me any questions.”

  He didn’t. Instead, he held her again for several more long, hard-breathing moments, before leaning over and placing his lips on hers, nudging them wider apart until his tongue was inside, surrounded by her heated moistness.

  Though she moaned, she returned the pressure of his lips with the same fervor, especially when he clutched the cheeks of her buttocks and ground her against his hardness.

  He picked up on an escaped whimper as he felt her body go slack. Removing his lips, he looked into her glazed eyes. They were glazed over, and her head was bobbing slightly.

  Realizing that she was on the verge of an orgasm, he jerked open her blou
se with one hand, and, without bothering to remove her bra, leaned over and sucked a nipple through the lacy material.

  She whimpered again. Louder. That was when he shifted both hands back to her buttocks and increased the pressure of his hips, moving, grinding, until her head jerked back and she cried out with relief.

  He took her into the bedroom then.

  While he was more than anxious to know what had driven her here, what had put that desperate look on her face and coiled her body, he could wait. He sensed she needed him physically right now more than anything. And he damn well needed her.

  It had been too long since he’d been buried in the heated center of her.

  That thought suddenly made him nuts, especially when she took the initiative, standing in front of him and unbuttoning his shirt, then slipping it off his arms. Then she parted those delectable lips again, her pink tongue flicking out and targeting his nipple.

  He flinched, chills dotting his skin, when she teased the nipple into a hard knot. A contented moan escaped her as her fingertips skimmed over the muscles in his arms, shoulders and chest. He felt as if he’d been caressed by the wings of a butterfly.

  Yet his flesh burned. And that burning intensified when she undid his jeans, slid them over his hips, then grasped his hard penis.

  “Lindsay!”

  Every muscle, every nerve, in his body begged for relief. He pushed her down on the bed and practically tore off her clothes. Once her unblemished flesh was exposed, he bent his head over her chest, his lips once again homing in on her nipple.

  He sucked. And sucked some more.

  He could feel the force of her emotions as she dug her fingers into his back. And it made him all the more determined to keep her with him the rest of his life, no matter what it took.

  He pressed her breasts together, then licked up and down the cleavage until she clasped her fingers on either side of his face and held him to a nipple.

  “Oh, Mitch,” she gasped, “I feel that all through me.”

  “Me, too, and I can’t wait.”

  He spread her thighs with a gentle hand, and then, with gentle fingers, eased into her. She bucked against that tender assault, her eyes widening on him.