All She Ever Wanted

by Barbara Freethy

  "No problem," he muttered as she pushed him back against the mattress.

  She put one leg over him, then straddled his body, moving as slowly as she could up and down his body, teasing him with her breasts, her mouth ...

  "Enough," he said, putting his strong hands on her waist. "I need you."

  "I need you," she whispered, as she took him into her body with a satisfied gasp of pleasure. And for a while all was right with the world.

  * * *

  Laura sat at her kitchen table late Wednesday night staring at the two place settings that had yet to be used. The steaks she'd broiled two hours earlier had long gone cold. The baked potatoes were wrinkled and soft. The lettuce in the salad had turned brown. It was after eight thirty and Drew had not yet arrived home, nor called. She'd checked the airport an hour earlier to learn that his plane had landed on time at five forty-two. Where the hell was he?

  She'd become her mother, Laura thought with a sad sigh. Closing her eyes, she could see her mom sitting at the empty dining-room table in her expensive Atherton home, her beautiful china filled with the homemade dinner she'd lovingly prepared for a man who hadn't bothered to call and say he'd be late—again. Her mother would wait and wait, finally turning off the lights and going up to bed, where she would cry into the night.

  Laura had married Drew determined to have a different life for herself. She'd thought he would be her lover, her husband, her best friend, the father of her children, the man of her dreams, and most of all, her companion. She'd known he was ambitious and determined, but she'd never believed that he would put everything before her—or that he would cheat on her with another woman.

  Was he cheating? Or were his frequent absences, his secrets about something else entirely? Like maybe a best-selling novel?

  The clock ticked relentlessly loud, each beat making her feel increasingly more frustrated. Getting up, she walked over to the phone and picked it up, debating her options. She could call Drew for the fifteenth time or leave it be.

  Before she could decide, the phone rang in her hands, making her jump. "Hello?"

  "Laura, it's Drew."

  She let out a breath of relief. "Thank God. I've been so worried. Where are you?"

  "I'm still in L.A."

  "I thought you were coming back tonight."

  "Something came up. I won't be home for a few days."

  The uneasy knot in her stomach grew bigger. "Why not?"

  "I can't go into it right now, but I need you to give me some time and some space. Can you do that?"

  She hesitated. "I don't think I can, Drew. Why are you being so secretive?"

  "I'm working on a very private matter. I can't go into it, not even with you. You have to trust me."

  Laura wanted to trust him, but how could she? There were too many unanswered questions. And it was about time she started asking some of them. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Drew, I found an itinerary for Garrett Malone in your pocket. Did you speak to him?"

  Silence met her question. She knew he was angry. She could feel it.

  "I can't get into that right now," he said tersely. "I have people coming in for a meeting. We'll discuss it later."

  "I'm not sure it can wait. I got a call from a reporter in Santa Cruz. She knows I was one of the Fabulous Four. She said she has been talking to the Santa Cruz Police Department, and they're considering reopening the investigation."

  "They don't have any evidence to do that."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm a lawyer, aren't I? Look, Laura—you don't have to worry about the book. Natalie is the one who should be concerned, not you. You didn't do anything to Emily. your hands are clean. However, it might be a good idea for you and the girls to get out of town for a while. Why don't you go up to Tahoe, stay in your parents' cabin for a week? You can come back when this all settles down."

  "The girls have school, and I have appointments," she said, surprised by his suggestion.

  "They can miss school, and you can reschedule. I don't want you or the girls hounded by the press. And I don't want you to say the wrong thing."

  Which was probably his main concern, Laura thought cynically. "I can't go out of town. I have an audition on Monday for the Community Orchestra. What do you think about that?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I want to play the flute in the Community Orchestra."

  "You're not good enough to do that, are you? You haven't played in years, and don't you have enough to do taking care of our children and our home?"

  His words made her feel immediately guilty. Madison was right. Drew had always known exactly which buttons to push. But she had Madison in her head now, too. And Natalie. Even Emily's voice could be heard, telling her it wasn't a crime to want something for herself. Before she could tell him she'd do what she wanted, he was speaking again.

  "I've got to run," Drew said. "We'll talk about this when I get back."

  "I love you," she said quickly, automatically, out of habit—but he had already hung up. He hadn't told her he loved her. Maybe he didn't. Maybe she didn't. Right now even her own words of love had a hollow echo to them. They needed to talk, share, trust each other again. But that wouldn't happen until he came home, until this secret case he was working on was over. She just hoped the secret case had nothing to do with Malone's book, because there were a lot of things she could forgive, but that might not be one of them.

  Chapter 16

  Natalie awoke to sun streaming through the blinds in Cole's bedroom early Thursday morning. A glance at the clock told her it wasn't that early— almost eight. She rolled onto her back with a sigh of delicious satisfaction; she hadn't slept so well in years. She was just sorry that tomorrow had finally come. They would have to talk about the past, the present, and maybe even the future. It wouldn't be just the two of them anymore. The rest of the world would have its say. And she wasn't quite ready to give Cole back to the rest of the world.

  Maybe she never had been.

  She'd told him before that she'd never asked him for anything, no promises, no ring, no happily ever after. That had been true. She'd never said the words out loud, but in her heart she'd wanted all of that. Maybe he'd run from what he'd seen in her eyes, not what he'd heard in her voice. Maybe the same thing would happen again. Because she was falling in love with him for a second time. Her heart wanted to believe that there could be a different outcome this time around, but her brain knew it was a long shot.

  The bathroom door opened and Cole appeared, his hair and chest damp from a shower. She swallowed hard at the sight of him wearing only a pair of skimpy blue boxers. She would have liked to just stare at him for a while, but after giving her a sexy smile that completely undid her, he jumped into bed, pinned her beneath his body, and proceeded to kiss her like he was never going to let her go.

  As soon as one kiss ended, another began. He gave her no chance to protest or even to tell him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. Which was really all she wanted to say. He pressed his lips to her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone ... and she sighed with pure pleasure. She didn't want him to stop. She didn't want to think anymore or worry about what would happen between them.

  "I love that sound you make," Cole muttered, stopping long enough to look at her with eyes that had darkened with desire. "It drives me a little crazy every time I hear it. I know I should let you get up now. You must be hungry. You probably want to take a shower. Go home. Do something."

  She put her hand on his neck and pulled his head down, touching his lips with hers, sliding her tongue between his lips in a kiss that made Cole sigh. "The only thing I want to do is make love to you again," she whispered against his mouth. "You know, the night isn't officially over until I get out of bed. That's a rule. And we promised each other a night."

  "Really? Well, I wouldn't want to break any rules." He slid his hand across her breast, his fingers teasing her nipple into a tight point. He bent his head to suck the point between his lips, and she
thought she might just die again. Her lower body pooled in delight and she kicked the covers off so she could rub her legs against his. Then she slipped her hands inside his boxers and pushed them down over his hips.

  "I'm ready for you, Cole," she said softly, pulling him into the cradle of her thighs. "I'm always ready." She sighed again as he sank deep into her body. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. She might have to let him go later, but for now he was hers.

  The persistent ringing of a doorbell finally brought Natalie back to awareness. Cole was sprawled on his back beside her, his eyes closed, but she could tell he was awake by the groan that followed and the way he squinted his eyes as he opened them. "Who the hell is that?"

  "I have no idea," she said, a bit unsettled. "Whoever it is must have gotten past your doorman."

  "It can't be a reporter then," Cole said, as he hopped out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans. "It's probably Josh or Dylan."

  As Cole left the bedroom, Natalie gathered her clothes off the floor by the bed. She intended to jump into the shower, but at the sound of loud voices, she paused and decided to put on her clothes instead. She could hear arguing, a man's voice, then a woman's. She didn't quite recognize them. Madison maybe? Dylan?"

  "Where is she?" the man demanded. "Is she here? Is she with you?"

  Natalie's heart sank. Now she recognized the voice. It belonged to Cole's father, Richard Parish, and he did not sound happy. She had a terrible feeling that the she he was referring to was her.

  The bedroom door flew open and Natalie jumped. Her blouse was still open and she quickly pulled the edges around her body. Richard Parish stopped in mid stride, a fiery figure of anger and pain. His hair, once a light brown, was completely gray now. His body, once muscular and strong, appeared thinner, softer. His eyes, Cole's eyes, were hard and unforgiving as they stared at her in disbelief. Then he looked back at Cole. "You slept with her? You slept with the girl who killed your sister?"

  "She didn't kill anyone," Cole said, leaping to her defense, for which Natalie was intensely grateful.

  "That's not what the book says."

  Natalie drew in another sharp breath as Cole's mother entered the bedroom. She was an older version of Emily, dark chocolate brown hair, matching eyes, a small pert nose that set off her perfectly oval face. But Janet Parish had not aged as well as Natalie would have thought. There were lines around her eyes and mouth, and her skin was pale and filled with shadows.

  "Natalie," she whispered, as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "It really is you."

  "Yes," Natalie said. "It's me."

  "Richard said he saw you on television last night. You and Cole were running down the street together. I didn't believe him, but here you are."

  Damn. The reporters must have filmed their getaway. Natalie hadn't anticipated that. She felt guilty now for spending the last twelve hours wrapped in a cocoon of fantasy. Well, that fantasy was officially over now.

  No one seemed to know what to say next. Natalie didn't like the silence, but she was afraid she would like conversation even less. She was right.

  "You pushed Emily off the roof," Richard said, daring her to deny it. "I don't know why I didn't see it before."

  "I didn't—"

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Everything in the book is true. You had a fight. You wanted Cole. You wanted Emily to get him for you. When she wouldn't call him, you pushed her off the roof."

  "I didn't do that."

  "But you don't remember, do you?" Janet asked her in a soft, sad voice. "Emily was so sweet, so kind. And she loved you like a sister. She told me so. You were her best friend."

  Natalie's heart broke a little more. "I felt the same way about her. And I'm going to prove that Malone is lying."

  "Mr. Malone had to get his information from somewhere," Richard continued. "The Santa Cruz Police will be calling you, Ms. Bishop."

  "That's Dr. Bishop," she retorted, throwing her chin up. The Parishes might be hurting, but she didn't intend to be their whipping post any longer. "And I'll look forward to talking to them."

  "So will I," Cole said. "There seem to be a lot of questions that need answers."

  "No! I don't want you involved, Cole," Janet said sharply, with every last bit of energy in her body. "I can't bear the thought of something happening to you, too. You have to stay out of it. You're all I have left. I can't lose you, too. Promise me. Let your father handle it. Let the investigators do their job. I want you safe. You have to do this for me."

  With Janet's words, Natalie could see Cole's shoulders sag under the burden of his mother's need. It was easy now to understand why Cole had never left his family or the paper. His mother was so fragile, like a China doll that might shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. Emily had felt that burden, too, Natalie realized. Janet hadn't been quite this fragile back then, but she had needed her daughter's love and attention, and Emily had always felt trapped by that need.

  "Nothing will happen to me, Mom. I can promise you that," Cole said.

  "You can't promise me. Emily told me everything would be all right, too. She was wrong." Janet sent Natalie a troubled look, then glanced back at her son. "I don't think you two should be together."

  "Natalie wants to clear her name, and I want to find out the truth."

  "Those two may be in opposition," Richard said.

  "They won't be. I'm confident of that," Cole replied.

  "Because you're sleeping with her, blinded by sex and a beautiful woman. I thought I taught you better than that."

  Cole stiffened at his father's harsh words. "Look, I know you're upset, but I can handle this. I know what I'm doing, and who I'm doing it with."

  Natalie frowned, wishing Cole had presented a clearer defense of her character.

  "You should have enough respect for your sister's memory to stay away from this woman," Richard said sharply.

  "I did stay away from her—for ten years," Cole replied. "How many more do you want?"

  "The rest of your life." He gave Natalie a hard, bitter look. "We took you into our lives, shared our holidays with you, treated you like a daughter, and what did you do—you got Emily drunk. You argued with her. You let her go out on a roof when she couldn't see straight enough to walk. And you either pushed her or you let her fall. Either way, you killed her."

  Natalie couldn't breathe. She felt like he'd just stabbed her in the heart.

  "You're going to have to choose, Cole." Richard tipped his head toward Natalie. "Between her or your family."

  Cole's face tinned white. "Don't give me an ultimatum," he said, but his words hit only air. His parents were gone, slamming the door on their way out of the apartment.

  Natalie slowly finished buttoning up her blouse, realizing belatedly that she'd been talking to Cole's parents half-naked. Another mark against her. Cole finally moved toward his dresser, taking out a T-shirt and pulling it over his broad shoulders. They were dressed now; they had their armor back on.

  "I guess the night is really over," she said, feeling a huge wave of regret despite her best intention to feel nothing.

  "I guess it is."

  She hated the way he wouldn't look at her and wondered if they were going to ignore what had just been said. Before she could ask, Cole walked out of the room. Apparently, they were going to ignore it. She followed him into the living room, where he was searching for his keys. "Are we still working together on this?" she asked. "You heard what your father said about me. And your mother—she begged you to leave me alone."

  "I was here. I don't need a recap."

  He sounded angry, and she wasn't sure who exactly he was angry at. "Are they always like that? So needy?"

  "They lost a lot when they lost Emily," he said heavily. "They have a right to be needy. I just can't ever seem to give them what they want."

  "Emily used to say that, too," Natalie murmured.

  "We already discussed that. Emily was sick as a child. She had to be protected."


  "But you weren't sick. You didn't need to be protected. You felt trapped, too. And you still do." She looked into his eyes and knew she was right. "Is that why you ran from me before, Cole? Is that the real reason you wanted to get out of our relationship as soon as I told you I loved you?"

  Cole ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Natalie. I don't know anymore. Maybe."

  In a strange way Natalie was glad Cole's parents had come by. She understood him better now. Cole was afraid of getting too much love. And she was afraid she would never get enough. How on earth could they ever be together?

  "I'll take you home," he said. "I need to go to work."

  * * *

  Natalie spent most of the morning cleaning her apartment, catching up on laundry, bills, e-mail, all the while trying to ignore the memories clamoring in her head. She did not want to relive yesterday or last night. She did not want to think about how good it had been with Cole and how much harder it was to be alone again now that she'd spent the night with him. She had only herself to blame. She'd made love to him with her eyes open. She'd chosen not to think about tomorrow—so why was she surprised that tomorrow had come and bitten her on the ass? She'd known the time they had together was only a brief interlude. She just had to accept it and move on. Except she just didn't quite know how to move on.

  There was still the problem of the book, the reporters, the fact that she couldn't go back to work. She felt trapped. And she needed a way out.

  When the phone rang in the late afternoon, she let the answering machine pick up, expecting it to be yet another reporter asking her questions she couldn't answer. She was surprised to hear a familiar voice on the machine, another woman from her past.

  "Natalie, this is Diane Thomas," the woman said. "I don't know if you remember me, but—"

  "Diane," Natalie said, grabbing the phone. "Hi, I just got in and heard your voice on the machine."

  "It took me a few days to track you down," Diane said. "I've been thinking about you ever since that book came out. I wanted to tell you I think it's appalling what's been written about you."