“Truth.”
“Why do Pandolinni men make poor husband material?”
Tony frowned. He wasn’t accustomed to talking about himself, baring himself to anyone. It’s just a game, he reminded himself. “My father was a great cop, but he was horrible as a husband and a family man. He was cold, detached. The characteristics that made him a good cop made him a miserable human being.” His hands clenched into fists as he thought about the man he’d worked so desperately to please. “I joined the police force in an effort to make him happy, get some sort of validation from him. I watched my mother slowly fold into herself, escaping his coldness by warming herself with a bottle of gin.” For a moment he forgot where he was, who he was speaking to, as memory after memory assaulted his brain.
“When I was in fourth grade, I noticed my mom getting quieter and quieter, and when she tucked me in at night, I’d smell the liquor. By the time I was in sixth grade, I smelled the gin when I got home from school in the afternoons. And when I was in high school, she rarely got out of bed. I hated her, but I hated my father even more, because I knew he was the one who’d created her. He’d made her a shadow. I finally quit the police force so I wouldn’t become a man like my father, and I vowed I’d never take a woman into my life and subject her to the life-style that destroyed my mother.” He jumped up from the table, suddenly angry that he’d said too much. “This is a stupid game and I don’t want to play it anymore.” He walked to the front door, needing to escape from her and her provocative ways and probing questions. “I’m going to see if I can’t find a newspaper at one of the stores. I’ll be back later.”
Libby watched him slam out of the door, surprised that such an innocent question had obviously touched a nerve.
She ached for the little boy he had been, trying to please a cold, distant father. She hurt for the child who’d never had his father and had lost his mother, as well. But more than anything, she mourned the man who had made himself a vow long ago…a vow created by disillusionment and bitterness.
Didn’t he realize that by keeping himself isolated from love, by refusing to consider the possibility of sharing his life, he would eventually become a cold, detached man just like his father?
She hadn’t meant to pry into his personal life, although she had to admit she’d hoped by playing the silly little game that she would learn a little bit more about him.
She got up from the table and grabbed her purse, digging in the bottom until she found her nail file. She had to do something, anything, to pass the time.
As she filed her nails, she thought of her shop, wondering what her customers thought about it being closed for the past two days. In all the years her father had owned it, and in the past year of her ownership, the store had never been closed during the week.
It was difficult to consider that three days before, her life had been sane and normal. Now she was in a motel room in the middle of the Ozarks, hiding out from men who wouldn’t hesitate to kill her to get what they wanted. She was cooped up with a man she hardly knew, yet trusted with her life, a man she knew she was dangerously close to falling in love with.
She finished her nails and put the file away, then went to the curtains at the window and peeked out. Tony… She had a feeling there was a child within the man, a child afraid to reach out for love. And she didn’t know how to do anything but love him. Oh, Libby, you’re such a fool, she thought, letting the curtain fall shut again. Of all the men in the world, she had to be falling for a private detective whose personal demons made the men chasing them look tame. Damn, but sometimes life was incredibly unfair.
* * *
They ate dinner in silence, then cleaned up the dishes and put them away. “I’m going outside to look around,” Tony said when they were finished. She nodded, almost grateful for his absence. There was a tension between them that she couldn’t seem to dismiss, one that nothing seemed to dispel.
After he was gone, she went into the bathroom. She might as well get ready for bed. Hopefully they would get up early the next morning and get back on the road to solving this whole mess.
After her shower, she pulled her sleep shirt on. Perhaps it would be best if she was already in bed and asleep before he came back. Maybe that would ease the awkwardness of another night spent together in the intimate confines of the bed.
She got beneath the sheets and waited for sleep to overtake her. She’d just about drifted off when she heard the click of the door unlocking. “Libby?” he called softly in the darkness.
She didn’t answer. Instead she didn’t move, feigning sleep. She relaxed as he went into the bathroom and started the water in the shower. Her body tensed in anticipation as moments later she heard the shower stop, and she waited breathlessly for him to join her. She’d felt the sexual tension between them all day long, and now she sensed an explosion in the air, an explosion that seemed as inevitable as morning following this night.
He came out of the bathroom and even in the darkness she could feel the sudden energy crackling. She held her breath as he eased into bed next to her. She didn’t move, knowing an accidental touch would destroy the tenuous control she had left.
She was aware of his breathing, not the deep, regular patterns of a sleeping man, but rather the short, shallow breaths that spoke of suppressed emotions. We should be sleeping, preparing for tomorrow and whatever danger it might bring, she thought. But how could she close her eyes and sleep with him lying so close to her, his heat surrounding her, enveloping her?
“Libby?”
She didn’t know whether to answer him or not, but she had a feeling he knew she wasn’t sleeping. “Yes?” she answered, surprised at the dryness of her mouth.
“Truth or dare?”
Again she hesitated, afraid to answer…afraid not to. “Truth,” she whispered. She could feel his tension and her body reacted with a tension of its own.
“If I tried to make love to you right now…would you stop me?”
“No.” The word seeped out of her on a breath of air that was caught in his mouth as he kissed her. His lips were hot, insistent, plundering hers with a hunger that overwhelmed her.
As his lips worked to devour hers, his hands slowly moved up the inside of her T-shirt, stopping to reverently caress the fullness of her breasts.
At the touch of his hands, Libby moaned into his mouth and arched herself against him, wanting to be closer, wanting to lose herself completely in the passion that exploded between them.
Tony wanted to take his time, to savor the sweet silkiness of her skin, the taste of her mouth. But as she sat up and pulled her T-shirt over her head, then beckoned for him to do the same, he knew there was no way he could control himself enough to take it slow and easy. He’d been beyond slow and easy before he’d even touched her.
He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, gasping as her fingers immediately danced across his bare chest, raising hundreds of goose bumps of pleasure.
His mouth slowly nibbled down the length of her neck, licking and reveling in the small gasps and moans of pleasure she emitted. He wanted to pleasure her fully, he wanted to take her with him as he rode the tide to fulfillment. He wanted her to feel the same things he felt…and oh, was he feeling. His blood surged powerfully in his veins, and his heart thudded erratically. Every nerve ending in his body sang in anticipation.
She moaned again as his hungry mouth fastened on her breast, caressing and rolling the turgid nipple with the tip of his tongue. She tasted of honey and wine and forbidden fruit, and he feasted on her flavor, insatiable as an alcoholic drinking whiskey.
As he feasted on the sweet fullness of her breast, his fingers slid teasingly beneath the waistband of her panties. She felt her quickened breath, her heart flutter dangerously fast. Slowly he pulled the wisp of silk over her hips and down the length of her legs. Once she was completely bare to his touch, he took off his own jockey shorts, wanting her to feel the power and strength of his desire.
Then it was his turn t
o gasp and cry out in surprise as she took him in her hot hand, stroking him gently with butterfly caresses, forcing him to fight for control.
She moved beneath him, placing her hands on the broad expanse of his back, beckoning him to move over her, into her. With a throaty groan, he slid into her warmth, trembling violently at the exquisite sensation of velvety heat. For a moment he didn’t move, simply remained buried in her glorious fire, afraid that he would shatter into a million pieces and it would all be over before it had truly begun.
Slowly he moved within her, closing his eyes as ripples of pulsating pleasure swept through him. She met his thrusts eagerly and her hands clawed at his back as if trying to pull him completely inside her.
His movements took on a frenzy as he buried himself deep and hard within her, and she met him with a frenzy of her own.
And suddenly she was there, and he was there with her. As she cried out, her body quivering, Tony shook with the explosion of his own release. He gasped and clung to her tightly, reluctant to let the feelings end. He’d never felt this way before, he’d never felt the sensations he felt at this very moment. And he was terrified that he would never experience them again.
CHAPTER 11
Tony awoke first, realizing instantly that the night had slipped away and the cabin was filled with the quiet of predawn.
For a long moment he didn’t move, not wanting to interrupt the total tranquillity of waking well rested with Libby slumbering peacefully in his arms. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the pleasurable sensations of Libby’s curves molded against him, the scent of her hair tickling his nose.
He frowned thoughtfully. He knew that somehow a bridge had been crossed, a connection had been made between them. It was a connection that would make it impossible for him to escape from her unscathed.
When they finished with this mystery and went back to their own lives, he knew there would be many times when memories of this intimate time with her would come back to haunt him. There would be moments of reflection when he mourned what might have been if his ultimate decision had been different.
Still, he knew that to anticipate any sort of long-term relationship between them was a fool’s dream.
They had come together, made their connection in the surreal world of a small cabin in the woods, surrounded by a heady combination of mystery, intrigue and danger. What they had shared here would never last back in the real world. He refused to make the same mistakes as his father and mother. As much as he hated to admit it, he feared he was too much his father’s son to make and keep a marriage healthy.
He gently eased himself away from her and out of bed, studiously ignoring the desire to stand over her and watch her sleep. He stealthily crossed the room and disappeared into the bathroom, where he stepped into the shower. Maybe a hot, stinging shower would rid him of her scent, wash away the feel of her body against his, banish her from his thoughts and heart.
Minutes later he stepped out of the shower and dried off briskly with one of the thin, worn towels. He pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, his gaze falling on the thick gold necklace resting on the side of the sink. For a long moment he stared at it, frustration welling up inside. What did the damned thing contain? What in the hell was so important? With a sigh, he shoved it into his jeans pocket, then left the bathroom.
Libby still slept soundly, not having moved an inch since he had gone into the bathroom. Standing there for a moment, watching her in the dimness of the room, he suddenly felt the need to get on the road.
Her hair was like a halo surrounding her head and he remembered how it had felt in his hands the night before, with its perfumed silkiness and rich texture. She had given to him completely, holding nothing back as they’d made love. And he’d found himself responding in kind, unable to do anything else. It had been frightening…that moment when he’d lost himself to her, found himself in a veil of darkness where she was the only light, the only reality. He frowned.
She’d gotten too close, crept into his insides like a dreadful disease. The protective box he’d always kept firmly erected around his heart had been opened, and like Pandora’s box, the mystery of it all scared the hell out of him.
He needed to regain his equilibrium, restore his self-imposed isolation. He needed to keep her out of his heart. He wanted out of this room, out of this mess that had brought them together. It was time to move on and bring this whole mess to an end.
He looked at her again. Despite his anxiety, he was reluctant to wake her out of her peaceful sleep. Besides, an hour more won’t make any difference, he thought as his stomach rumbled its good morning.
He looked at his wristwatch. It was only a few minutes after five o’clock. If he woke her up now they would have time to stop at the restaurant for breakfast before they went on their way to Jasper Higgens’s lab. Still he hesitated, knowing Libby would not appreciate being awakened at five o’clock just so he could have a hearty breakfast before they continued on their adventure.
His frown deepened as his stomach rumbled loudly. Just because she doesn’t like to eat breakfast doesn’t mean I have to do without, he thought irritably. He didn’t want to wake her up or go to the trouble of cooking in the room, but as he remembered the wonderful steak he’d had two nights before at the restaurant down the road, his mouth watered. They could probably fix him up a dandy breakfast in no time at all. He could probably eat and be back in the room before Libby even awoke and knew he was gone. Finding a piece of paper, he quickly scribbled a note telling her where he’d gone, just in case she woke up before he returned. Laying the note on his pillow, he crept out of the cabin and into the brisk, fresh air of predawn.
* * *
Libby woke slowly, stretching sensually against the crisp cotton sheets. She knew immediately that Tony was no longer next to her. The heat of his body was gone, but she could still smell the scent of his maleness on the sheets, on her skin, and she closed her eyes and smiled.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so soundly. Her sleep had been that of a woman totally and completely sated. She wanted him again, even now with her body still tingling with the lingering sensations of their lovemaking. She wanted him again and again. She ran her hands down the sides of her body, remembering the touch of his hands, the feel of his lips against her skin. Making love with him had been everything she’d imagined. He’d been a passionate, sensual, thoughtful lover.
She sighed and rolled over, opening her eyes as her hand encountered a piece of paper on his pillow. She scanned the note quickly, smiling softly. Tony and his morning appetite. She flushed slightly. His nighttime appetite wasn’t too shabby, either.
She got out of bed and headed for the shower, knowing that the minute Tony returned to the room he would be ready to hit the road.
As she stood beneath the spray of water, she wondered what the day would bring. Would they discover the secret of the necklace? Would they find the answers they sought at Jasper Higgens’s lab? And if they did solve the mystery and went back to their lives in Kansas City, what would happen between her and Tony?
Surely last night changed things, she thought hopefully. Surely after last night he couldn’t deny that he felt something for her…that there was a magic between them. The thought of not seeing him again, not making love with him again, made a hollow ache of emptiness well up inside her.
But he’d been most emphatic from the very beginning. He wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. He didn’t want a lifetime commitment. And what did she want from him? It was a question that, in her mind, had no clear-cut answer.
She shoved her head under the water spray, rinsing out the shampoo and unsettling thoughts. One mystery at a time, she cautioned herself. The first and foremost thing was to get rid of the necklace.
She had just finished pulling on her T-shirt and jeans and was towel-drying her hair when she heard the outside door of the cabin creak open.
“I’m almost ready,” she called through the bathroom door. She qu
ickly finger-combed her hair, looking one last time at her reflection in the mirror.
“I hope you had a good breakfast,” she said as she threw the towel she’d used in the corner and walked out. “I figured you’d be anxious to get down to business and on the road and find—”
The last of the sentence strangled in her throat as she saw the albino sitting at the kitchen table, his pink eyes glittering and his thin lips pulled into a cold smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Weatherby.” His voice was soft, but Libby heard the steely grit beneath the soothing tone.
“Good morning, Mr. Taylor,” she returned, using the name Tony had learned from his friend Cliff.
The albino’s eyes flickered in surprise at the sound of his own name. “Ah, it seems perhaps we have underestimated your knowledge. Unfortunately, we’ve underestimated several things, which has made us lose valuable time. But, I think all that can be rectified right now.”
Libby’s head spun and she swallowed hard, hoping to swallow back the frantic panic that made her knees weaken and her blood roar in her ears. She had to keep her wits about her. If only she could stall him until Tony came back. “What…what do you want?” she asked, glad that her voice betrayed none of the abject terror that twisted her stomach and produced a cold sweat to break out on her upper lip.
The man smiled. Again, it was a cold death mask kind of grimace. “I think you know what we want.”
She reached up to her neck, startled when her hand encountered nothing. Where was the necklace? When had she last had it? Her mind raced, then she remembered. She had laid it down in the bathroom the night before when she had showered. It must still be in there on the sink. God, where was Tony? How long could it take him to choke down breakfast?
She gasped as Mr. Taylor pulled a knife from his pocket and with a barely perceptible click, a long, evil-looking blade popped out. “I grow impatient, Mrs. Weatherby. You and your friend have made us lose precious time. We’re tired of the game. Where is the necklace?”
One of the Good Guys Page 13