by Beverly Bird
“He doesn’t want to hurt us,” he said finally, in an undertone. “Now ease up on the seat there and scoot over to the passenger side. Just stay down as much as possible.”
“You’re crazy!”
“No. I’m just playing the odds.”
“With my life! He shot at us!”
But he hadn’t. Fox had had a chance to assimilate it all now. “If he had wanted to shoot us, we’d be on our way to the morgue right now.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Darlin’, I know. We made a dead-on, can’t-miss target. I was loving the taste of you for a good five, six, seven minutes there.”
Everything inside her did a sweet, slow roll.
Tara began shaking harder. “What’s the point of shooting if not to hit us?” she whispered so she wouldn’t have to think about it, about the way she could still feel his mouth on hers and his hard arms around her so many minutes after he had touched her.
“To keep us out of the house.”
Tara shot to her feet. “The Rose is in there! It is in there!”
“Son of a—” Fox broke off and got both arms around her waist. He pulled her down beside him again. It occurred to him that he might have waited to advance his theory of the shooter’s intentions when they were safely in the car and away from here. Then again, she wouldn’t get in.
“I didn’t say that. He wants us to go in case it is. He doesn’t want to give us another chance to go inside and find it.”
“He’ll look when we leave!”
“Of course he will. He’ll come up empty-handed just as we did.” What would be really sweet, Fox thought, was if they could trap the guy inside. It could happen if she’d just get safely into the car so he could put his attention to calling for backup.
Tara stared at him for a long time then she pulled free of his hold. She eased her way into the front seat of the Mustang, brushing aside the fragmented glass, waiting for another shot. It occurred to her that she’d never been so terrified in her life.
Fox slid into the driver’s seat after her. There was no more gunfire. He found his keys and a moment later the engine rumbled to life. Then the sound of sudden outraged barking made Tara jump beside him.
The dog came tearing out the front door of Carmen’s home. Tara opened the passenger door a crack. The mutt wriggled through, bounced across her lap, and scooted into the back seat.
Fox finally found his cell phone and called for units to respond to shots fired at Carmen’s address. If anything came of the scene, he knew dispatch would find him and bring him back. He put the car in gear and reached out to touch her hair as he pulled away from the curb. She surprised him by leaning her cheek briefly against his hand.
He’d been right. Everything had changed between them. Not because he’d taken her into his home, but because, for a few short moments, she’d needed him.
Tara accepted the blankets he piled around her. She even let him make her a pot of tea. The first sip she’d taken had told her he’d laced it with something much stronger. She started to protest then she felt the warmth of it slide through her. She was still shivering from the ride home with the bitter December wind blasting through the Mustang’s shattered window. From that, she thought, and from the enormity of what she had let happen between them.
She had kissed him. She had done it, had started it. And then he’d been ready to take a bullet for her.
“Television?” he asked, coming back into the room from the kitchen area.
Tara pulled the blankets more tightly around her and shook her head. “You really don’t have to take care of me.”
“No offense intended, darlin’, but you seem a little incapable of doing it yourself at the moment.”
She tried to glare at him, but the look fell short.
Fox sighed and sat on the opposite end of the sofa. “It’s all going to work itself out eventually, you know, one way or the other.”
Tara seized on the subject of the ruby. It kept her mind off the…the other. “How? Even Stephen’s killer doesn’t know where the Rose is.”
“So when we find it he’ll come to us, looking for it. You’ll get your rock, and I’ll get my killer.”
“How do you propose to find something that’s disappeared into thin air?”
“Ah, but it hasn’t. It couldn’t possibly.” Fox went quiet, thinking about it. “If it was on the floor when you got there that night, then the killer obviously lost it in the struggle with Carmen. Something panicked him, made him run without it.”
“Killing a man could do that to a person.”
He glanced at her with a considering expression. “True. It’s possible that he never meant to kill Carmen, that his death was an accident while they struggled for the rock. In any event, we’ll say the killer fled the premises. He didn’t lay low while you hid so he could pick up the Rose again or he wouldn’t be looking for it now. Therefore, someone else has to have entered the house and picked up the ruby while you were in the pantry. There’s a third party involved here.”
“There was no time for that to happen.” Tara hugged herself. “I went into the pantry in the first place because the police had arrived.”
“I’ll admit it was a narrow window of opportunity.” He reached absently to curl a strand of her hair around his finger.
It was too intimate, too familiar. The first time, in the car, she’d been shell-shocked. This time, Tara quickly eased back.
He dropped his hand. “The first question is—who is this someone else?” he continued without breaking stride. “And the second is what does he plan to do with the gem now that he has it. We have to figure out where it’s likely to end up. Then we’ll look there and we’ll get it back.”
Something soft filled her chest, and it felt like hope. “You agree with me that whoever has it will try to sell it? But I called all over today and no one has heard a word of it.”
“You called legitimate establishments. I don’t think whoever has the stone is a stellar citizen, darlin’. He only has two choices here. Keep it, or unload it underground. If he does it the legal way, people are sure going to wonder where he got it.”
If he kept it for himself, Tara thought, then she would never see the Rose again. Everything inside her recoiled from such a possibility.
“For every guy who plays by the rules, there’s another bending them,” Fox said mildly. “You’ll find it in any business. If the ruby is going to be moved, that’s how it’s going to happen.” And, Fox thought, there was one man in the city who had his finger on the pulse of everything that ebbed and flowed in that world. Luckily, it was his partner. “I’ll call Rafe and ask him to see what he can find out.”
He stood idly. Tara watched him leave the room. She reached for the remote control on the coffee table and clicked the television on absently. Then she frowned and looked again in the direction he’d gone.
Down the hallway? But there was a telephone on the kitchen wall. Why would he need to leave the room to call Rafe Montiel? Unless, she thought, he was going to tell the man something he didn’t want her to hear.
She pushed the blankets away and stood. She hesitated for half a heartbeat then she moved soundlessly into the hallway. She picked up the hushed tones of his voice just before she reached his bedroom door.
A frown creased her forehead. It was the same way he had talked to Cornelius.
“…can’t do it this year. I’m tied up with something right now.” Then there was a pause. “Ah, Connie, love, you know I’d be there if I could.”
Connie? Love? Tara fought against making a sound.
“Of course, I’ll call,” he said. “I love you, too. Merry Christmas.”
Christmas.
It hit her like a physical blow. It was only two days away. With everything that had been going on, she’d forgotten that. But of course he’d want to be with the…the person on the phone.
I love you, too. Merry Christmas. She felt dizzy. Was Connie short for Cornelius?
<
br /> Her legs tried to give out. It was the only reason he caught her in the hallway.
“What are you doing?” he asked, startled.
Tara dragged in breath. “Don’t you dare stay here because of me!”
He sighed. “Ah.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say? Ah?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to go to him. Her. Whoever. For Christmas. I don’t want to keep you away.” Her knees threatened to bend again. He had to go. She wasn’t sure what made her more frantic—the idea that he might stay in Philadelphia through the holiday or that his heart really did belong to someone.
He looked at her as though she had grown two heads. “Go to who?”
“Connie!”
“She’ll live without me this year. It won’t kill her.”
“She.” He’d said she. Of course, he had. Tara had never been kissed like that in her life. A man who kissed like that wouldn’t harbor tender feelings for a Cornelius.
So it was Connie he’d been talking to. Correction, she thought as something bitter lodged in her throat. It was Connie, love.
But then who the hell was Cornelius?
Fox left her and moved into the living room. “It’s always a zoo at her place,” he said over his shoulder. “She has a husband and four kids.”
Tara followed on his heels. “You have to—she has what?”
His eyes narrowed. “What are we talking about here?”
“What are you talking about?”
“My sister and whether or not I intend to fly to Savannah tomorrow to spend Christmas with her and the rest of my family.”
Disbelief beat against the inside of her temples with nasty little fists. “Connie is your sister? Like Cornelius is your brother?”
“I don’t have a brother!”
She shoved at his chest and swept past him. “Liar! Then who’s Cornelius? Tell me that!”
What was going on here? He watched her go and felt poleaxed. She landed at the coat closet and grabbed her jacket. Fox felt his blood pressure spike.
“Take that off,” he said too quietly.
“No. If I’m not in your way then there won’t be an issue of what you’ll do for Christmas. You’ll go to Connie, love where you damned well ought to be.” She struggled into her jacket.
She did have a way of spitting Connie’s name out, Fox thought. He crossed the room toward her, beginning to understand. “You’re jealous.”
Her face went as red as Santa’s suit. “Oh, get real.”
“You are. I’ll be damned.”
“Over what? It was only one kiss.”
“But it was a really, really good kiss.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “That hardly gives me any claims on you.”
“True. But the sentiment is kind of…provincial just the same.”
“I am not provincial!”
“Sweet then. In a homespun, innocent sort of way. I like it. You continue to surprise me, darlin’.”
She bore down on him, mortified, and poked him in the chest. “That kiss was a mistake.”
“Do you think so?”
“I was just…shaky. I wasn’t in my right mind.” Tara put a hand to her stomach. It was knotted and it hurt. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“I do. Does this mean you don’t want to do it again?”
She zipped her jacket up hard in response. Her hands were shaking. Damn him—damn him—for the way he could make things melt inside her with a few words.
“Connie really is my sister,” he murmured.
“I don’t care.” She felt like a fool.
“It’s a rather long story how Cornelius got into this, but trust me, he’s really nothing to get worked up about, either. I’m not going to join anyone in Savannah for Christmas this year because they’re there and I need to be here.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I’m not going to let this guy get an extra two days’ jump on me. And I’m not going to leave you alone.”
Tara closed her eyes helplessly.
Watching her, the rest of the pieces finally clicked into place. Fox thought about how she’d refused to leave her shattered apartment last night and how she’d resisted today. There was nowhere she could have gone, he realized, except maybe a hotel. He’d watched every move she’d made for a week and he’d seen it with his own eyes; he just hadn’t realized what he was seeing. She wasn’t close enough to anyone that she would call them and beg a night or two on their sofa.
If he stayed in the city during Christmas, if he kept on with this case through the holiday, he’d see that she had nowhere to spend that day, either. As long as he went to Savannah, her walls would stay in place. She could lock her doors and windows and spend the day alone and no one would be the wiser.
“What were you planning to do for the holiday?” he asked quietly, just to be sure.
Tara turned away. “I haven’t decided yet. I’ve been too busy worrying about somebody ransacking my apartment and trying to knife me before he decided to shoot me.”
“Mmm.” Fox caught her hand and turned her about again. He unzipped her jacket. She slapped at his hand. He eased it back off her shoulders and tugged a sleeve off her arm.
“What are you doing to me?” she demanded.
“You’re not going anywhere, darlin’. And neither am I.”
“I won’t let you do this.”
She could have been talking about Christmas, he thought, or the simple business of her spending the night here as they’d planned. Either way, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to win this one.
He caught her wrist and planted a kiss against her palm. He felt the shiver roll through her. He slid his other hand around to the small of her back and eased her body closer to his. He looked down at her, in his arms, his face close to hers. “There now. Isn’t this better than arguing about people who don’t even exist?”
“It’s not solving anything,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t have to. I just want more.” He covered her lips again and swallowed her sigh. “More of you.”
Tara had a single blinding moment to wonder how he did this to her when he was everything—gentle and caring, strong and protective—that she knew she had to resist. Then she was kissing him back.
His mouth was everywhere, hot and wet, up and down her throat, along her collarbone, the line of her jaw. His palm slid up beneath her sweatshirt, along the sensitive skin over her ribs, until she caught her breath in anticipation of where it might go next. Then he found her mouth again and his kiss was as persuasive as a prayer.
She had to stop this before it went any further. She knew that. But she couldn’t remember anymore why it was so dangerous, how it could be wrong.
He bent and slid an arm behind her knees. In the next moment, she was in his arms, then he lowered her to the sofa and covered her body with his own.
“Fox…”
He put a finger against her lips. “I’ll stop if you tell me to, so don’t say it unless you mean it.”
He empowered her with his gentleness. Tara framed his face with her hands and pulled him back to her even as she doubted her own mind.
Fox laid his palm against her chest. Her heart was racing. So was his, he knew. Because he was on a precipice, standing over something huge that could swallow him up, that could change everything he thought he knew about himself. But it seemed good and right that what had ended with a gunshot in Carmen’s yard should continue here, now, when she was safe and warm in his home. He fitted himself against her, prepared to spend a long, long time on her mouth.
This time they were interrupted by a thudding knock on his door.
He felt her go ramrod stiff beneath him. She pushed both hands against his chest, struggling to get up. Fox swallowed every curse he had ever heard.
“Easy. It’s probably just Rafe.” But he sat and let her leave him. “I did call him first.”
&nbs
p; Tara straightened her sweatshirt and touched a trembling hand to her mouth. She tunneled her fingers into her hair. Her eyes wouldn’t meet his.
And that was when it hit him.
She was soft, vulnerable. She was everything he hadn’t thought she was, and she was exactly his type after all. But it came with a huge price, one he took no pleasure from. She was strong by nature, so something, somewhere along the line, had broken her and left her in fragile pieces.
“Who did this to you?” How could she feel such fear over something so sweet and right as that kiss?
Tara looked at him sharply.
“Who left you when you needed him most?”
Then Fox answered himself. Will Cole. Her father. It was the first and last time I saw him, she’d said. But she still remembered it after all these many years. The man had torn her heart out when he’d gone and he’d left her to the particular hell that was Stephen Carmen.
Tara opened her mouth to deny it, her eyes bright with rage. Then Rafe’s voice cut through the door.
“Come on, open up in there! I haven’t got all night.”
He’d drop it, Fox thought, for now. He stood from the sofa, then he bent and kissed her quickly as he passed her. “Tara.”
“What?” She nearly spat it.
“I’m still not going to Savannah.”
Chapter 12
Rafe picked Belle up in one hand as he strode into the apartment, then he shot Tara a glance. “I spoke to a few pertinent sources. Sorry, but your ruby isn’t being sold in Philly.”
She nodded. The tangle of emotions inside her left no room for disappointment.
Her heart was still jackrabbiting in her chest. She’d let him in. It was all her own fault. She’d opened her heart, had forgotten to keep the blinds drawn on her soul. She’d sunk into the goodness and the warmth of him—not once, but twice, like that first kiss had been a single domino setting off hundreds and thousands of other falls. Now he’d somehow gotten into her secrets. Who left you when you needed him most?