They came simultaneously.
Quivering uncontrollably as the orgasm radiated through her, she clung to her lover, wanting to hold on to this moment—and to him—forever.
“I love you,” he moaned in that final moment. “God, how I love you.”
“Ben…oh, Ben…” She kissed him hungrily, as needy as she’d been when she met him at this motel half an hour ago.
He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes.
She cuddled against him.
When he said, “I don’t want this to be our last time…” she placed her index finger over his lips.
“It has to be,” she told him. “We’ve thought about it, talked about it, agonized about it, but in the end we know what we have to do.”
Turning to face her, he slipped his arm beneath her head and brought her close enough so he could kiss her. As they lay in each other’s arms, she listened to his heartbeat and knew that as long as she lived she would never love another man the way she loved Ben.
“Maybe someday,” he said. “When our children are older…”
“It’s a lovely thought.”
“Once we leave Birmingham, can I call you? Not often, just once in awhile, to hear your voice.”
She tensed, every muscle in her body reacting.
“LaShae?”
He knew her too well, understood her in ways her husband never had.
“No,” she said. “We need to make a clean break.” She pulled away from him and got out of bed. “It’s the only way.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. Never see you again. Never talk to you again.” He rose from the bed, as naked as she was, then walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms. She loved the feel of him. The strength in his muscular arms, the power of his touch. When he pulled her backward and tumbled them both into the bed, she didn’t protest, wanting him again, as much as he wanted her.
“Tonight has to be the last time,” she told him as he pressed down on top of her and kissed her again.
Within minutes, all rational thought left her, and Ben became the beginning and end of her world.
Lindsay managed to avoid any contact with Griff, Yvette Meng, and Judd during dinner and caught just a glimpse of them after the auction began, and only because Griff bid on and won several items. Of course, he paid outrageous amounts for the items because this was, after all, a charity event. The only person who had been the highest bidder more often than Griff was a man named Cary Maygarden. Nathan mentioned that Mr. Maygarden lived outside Nashville, but because of various business interests, he visited Knoxville regularly.
Lindsay would rather be just about anywhere other than here. And not just because of Judd. She wasn’t the society gala type and felt uncomfortable rubbing elbows with the city’s rich and/or famous. On a cold, drizzly Saturday night like this, she would much rather be curled up in front of the fire with a cup of hot chocolate.
If Nathan hadn’t been one of the organizers of tonight’s function, she would have asked him to leave an hour ago. And she probably would have gone home with him. Anything to escape from the inevitable moment when she would come face-to-face with Judd Walker.
Damn the man!
Just when she’d given up all hope of him showing any signs of recovery, he did something like this.
What did it mean?
The auction came to a close when Henry Lewis successfully bid on the final item, paying what Lindsay suspected was three times its worth. Although she didn’t really know the UT professor, she had heard Griff make several negative comments about the pompous ass. Griff’s term. It didn’t surprise her in the least that Griff had bid against the professor, raising the price again and again. Knowing Griff as she did, she’d bet he had done it on purpose, figuring that the man was determined to outbid him.
When the band struck up a slow jazzy tune, Nathan asked her to dance. At least that was something she enjoyed. But a few minutes later, she realized that her date had two left feet. The poor guy kept stepping on her toes.
“Sorry. Maybe you should give me a few dance lessons,” he said.
“It’s all right. Really. We can sit the next one out.”
Thankfully, they managed to finish the dance without Nathan doing any permanent damage to her toes, but she felt certain her black heels were ruined.
“Good evening, Lindsay,” Griff said as he came up behind her when she started to leave the dance floor. He nodded to Nathan. “How are you, Dr. Klyce? Would you mind if I steal Lindsay for the next dance?”
“Hello, Mr. Powell,” Nathan said. “I’m sure Lindsay would appreciate another partner. I’m not much of a dancer.”
As soon as Nathan excused himself, Griff put his arm around her waist and led her onto the middle of the dance floor just as the band’s next tune began.
“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” she told him.
“And I didn’t realize your Dr. Klyce was one of the organizers, not until after we arrived here this evening.”
“Since we don’t compare social calendars, I guess we have to chalk this up to coincidence.” She had to tilt her head backward to see his face because she was short and Griff was very tall.
“If I’d known, I would have warned you,” he told her.
“You mean about Judd being here?”
“His coming along with us was Yvette’s idea. And to be honest with you, I’m not sure how she persuaded him.”
“Maybe hell has frozen over.”
Griff smiled. “Maybe it has.”
“Do you think it means anything? Is it a first step or—”
A deep voice interrupted her midsentence. “May I cut in?” Judd tapped Griffin on the shoulder.
Griff paused, looked at Lindsay for a decision, then when she nodded, he turned her over to Judd and walked away.
The moment Judd eased his arm around her waist, a series of tiny explosions erupted along her nerve endings. They stared into each other’s eyes. Neither of them spoke. He was so devastatingly handsome that he took her breath away. And the fact that he hadn’t cut his hair, that it touched his collar in the back, only added to his roguish appeal.
For years, she had longed to be in Judd’s arms like this. But after what had happened between them six months ago, she didn’t trust him and found herself questioning his motives. What was going on inside that mixed-up mind of his?
When the dance ended, Lindsay tried to pull away from him, but he held on to her. She looked at him, her gaze questioning his actions.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re as bored as I am. Why should either of us stay?”
“I happen to be on a date,” she told him.
“With the esteemed Dr. Nathan Klyce,” Judd said. “I suppose he’s a nice guy. Reliable. Safe.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, he’s all those things.”
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
When the next tune started, Judd pulled her back into his arms. She went willingly, not wanting to make a scene. She had noticed quite a few people staring at them, trying to eavesdrop on their private conversation. No doubt everyone was curious about Judd Walker’s first public appearance since his wife’s murder nearly four years ago.
Judd held her much too close. But her body loved being next to his.
These were moments out of time. Not real.
It was unfair of him to do this to her.
His mouth hovered over her ear as he whispered softly. “Don’t settle for Dr. Perfect just because you’re running from me. You deserve better. You deserve nothing less than the real thing.”
Closing her eyes, she laid her head on his chest as he pressed her close, so close she could hear his heartbeat. Damn, you, Judd. Damn you!
When their second dance ended, she pulled away from him. And he let her go. As she escaped from Judd, she glanced over her shoulder, taking one final look.
Their gazes joined for a brief second, then she marched back to the table where Nathan sat talking to the other guests. When he saw her, he jumped to his feet and smiled.
As she slipped her arm around his waist, she kissed his cheek, then whispered, “When can we leave?”
A perplexed expression crossed his face. “Are you all right?”
She urged him several feet away from the table and looked directly at him. “Do you still want me to stay the night?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Whenever you’re ready to go, I can follow you home. I want to be with you tonight.”
Chapter 20
At one-forty-five, Judd went upstairs to his guest room at Griffin’s Rest, changed out of his tuxedo, one he’d had overnight delivered from his home in Chattanooga, and took a quick shower. He lay down in bed and spent the next half hour staring up at the ceiling, doing his level best to get Lindsay McAllister off his mind. Images of Lindsay in Dr. Nathan Klyce’s arms kept flashing through his mind. The harder he tried to stop thinking about Lindsay, the more vivid his thoughts became.
Lindsay in her simple, little black dress. Both elegant and sexy, without even trying. She probably didn’t have any idea how appealing her fresh, wholesome type of beauty was. Nothing false, nothing overdone. Natural. That’s what Lindsay was—a natural beauty.
At two-fifteen, Judd got up, yanked a pair of jeans from his still unpacked suitcase and put them on. Then he donned a ratty, seen-better-days sweatshirt and, in his bare feet, padded out of the bedroom and downstairs. He headed straight for the bar in Griff’s study, poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down in front of the fireplace. The last embers of yesterday’s fire blinked reddish gold as the heat from the burning logs diminished.
Judd sniffed the bourbon. Liquor had been his companion over the past few years, neither a friend nor an enemy, just there when he needed it. Then sometime last year, his drinking had gotten out of hand, going from bad to worse, as it had in those first few months following Jennifer’s murder.
After what happened with Lindsay six months ago, he’d gone cold turkey for weeks, proving to himself that he could kick the habit, that he was not an alcoholic. But his sobriety hadn’t lasted. At the first sign of trouble, he had turned to his trusty companion.
Face the truth. You can’t drink. You shouldn’t drink.
His hand trembled. The bourbon sloshed around inside the glass.
Judd cursed under his breath.
He brought the glass to his lips. Lindsay’s blue eyes stared at him. Eyes filled with heartbroken tears.
Judd threw the glass into the fireplace. The bourbon sizzled as it hit the simmering hot wood, creating sparks, and the tumbler shattered into pieces.
Leaning forward, he cupped his hands together behind his head and rocked back and forth for a couple of minutes, then shot out of the chair.
Why had he let her walk away from him? Why hadn’t he gone after her?
And said what? Don’t date Dr. Klyce. Don’t date anyone. Don’t even think about having sex with your nice doctor or any other man for that matter.
She was with Nathan Klyce right now, lying in his bed, in his arms.
Judd hated the very thought of Lindsay with another man.
She belonged to him. She was his.
When had he started thinking of her as his? When had he become so possessive of her?
You can’t give her what she wants and needs. It wouldn’t be fair to use her as you’ve used other women. Women without names, without faces. Lindsay isn’t a woman for a one night stand, someone to provide you with sexual release.
Judd left Griff’s study and prowled the downstairs hallways. Walking off his frustration. Trying not to think about Lindsay.
As Lindsay exited off I-40 at two-thirty Sunday morning, she questioned her sanity. Nathan had tried to persuade her to stay the night, but she had known she couldn’t. Not after the way she had treated him.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he’d told her. “It’s still raining, maybe sleeting a little. Besides, I don’t think you should try to drive home at this time of night. Not in your condition.”
Her condition?
That had been Nathan’s kind way of saying she was an emotional wreck.
Nathan was a kind man. An understanding man. God, any other man would have been angry with her, and would have had every right to be.
She had shaken her head, lifted her hand to caress his face and thought better of the idea. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on, to be a tease.” She’d swallowed her tears. “I–I need to go. Please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.”
Yeah, sure.
She had lied to him and lied to herself.
She wasn’t all right.
What should have been a beautiful evening of lovemaking with a wonderful man had turned into a fiasco. And it was all her fault. Nathan had been patient; he hadn’t pushed her into a sexual relationship. No, she’d been the one who had made the decision to spend the night with him, for them to move beyond friendship and become lovers.
Right now, she felt like the biggest fool on earth.
With one hand on the wheel, she reached up with the other and swiped the tears from her cheeks. She’d been crying on and off for over an hour. Enough already. What was done was done. She couldn’t change the sequence of events. But if she could…
She would go back to that moment when she had fled the dance floor, trying to escape from Judd. What on earth had possessed her to fly straight into Nathan’s arms and all but beg him to take her home right then and there and make love to her?
Because you were running scared.
Scared of her feelings for Judd. Worried that he might use her and then discard her. Puzzled by the very fact that he had attended the dinner dance at the Willows Country Club when, for nearly four years, he had avoided socializing as if it were a plague.
So, what should she do now? What if she went home and Judd was there waiting for her?
Why would he be up waiting for her? A man had to actually care about a woman to give a damn if she had sex with another man.
Oh, Nathan. If only…
After they had gone to Nathan’s home, she had gotten as far as stripping down to her panties and bra; but when Nathan had released the front hook on her bra, she had balked. He had kissed her neck while he cupped one hip and hadn’t immediately realized she was withdrawing from him. She’d wanted to be with him, had wanted them to make love, but something inside her shut down when the moment of truth arrived.
Nathan had been frustrated and hurt. But not angry.
Dear sweet Nathan.
Lindsay wouldn’t be seeing him again. There was no point in putting either of them through the hell of trying to make a going-nowhere relationship work.
Not as long as she was in love with Judd Walker…
Whenever Pinkie had difficulty sleeping, he took a hot bath and soaked until the water turned tepid. Tonight had been such fun that he’d found himself on an adrenaline high afterward. But the bath had helped relax and soothe him, enough that perhaps he could catch a few hours of restful sleep before heading to the airport to catch his Sunday noon flight to Birmingham. The very thought of meeting with LaShae at an out-of-the-way bar and restaurant on the outskirts of the city excited him. He had chosen a very simple disguise for their first encounter. A dark blond wig and bright sky-blue contacts. After all, who would remember him if he was with LaShae. If they were noticed, all eyes would be on her.
Pinkie had gone to great lengths to cover his tracks. John Chapman, the alias he used to rent the cabin in Guntersville, was for all intents and purposes still in Guntersville. The real Pinkie had been seen by hundreds at the charity auction in Knoxville tonight. Flying back and forth from Birmingham might be time-consuming, but well worth the effort. He didn’t think the FBI or Griffin Powell would ever figure out who the real BQ Killer was, but just in case…Besides, he enjoyed creating a tangled web of lies.
It simply added to the thrill of the game.
The more convoluted and confusing he made things for the authorities, the better. John Chapman wasn’t in Birmingham nor was Pinkie. But LaShae Goodloe’s killer would be. Tonight.
He would practice his story on the flight from Knoxville to Birmingham. While others slept, read, or talked to one another, he would close his eyes and mentally go over not only everything he would say to LaShae, but the way he would say it. Humble. Slightly uneasy. Needy. Sympathetic. A sweet, pitiful young man whose life had been ruined because a minister he and his family had trusted had raped him.
As he wrapped the white robe around him, savoring the delicious warmth, Pinkie smiled.
His first meeting with LaShae would set the groundwork for their second meeting. Once they were together this evening, he would be able to decide if it would take one more or two more secret meetings with her before she trusted him enough to come to his motel room.
Quivers of anticipation rippled through him as he walked into the adjoining bedroom. In his mind, he could see LaShae in a seedy motel room with him, there because she wanted to help him, and all the while she would be walking into a trap.
He would have everything waiting for her. If she didn’t drink the doctored cola he would provide for her, then a whiff of ether on a handkerchief would render her groggy long enough to subdue her without any noise.
Pinkie removed his robe, folded it neatly over the nearby chair and got into bed. As he pulled the down comforter up to his chin, he sighed with contentment.
How would he kill LaShae?
So many of the pretty flowers had had pretty voices. And there was only so many ways to silence a singer: Throat slit; vocal cords severed; tongue cut out; head chopped off. In the past, he had chosen the former three, but his cousin Pudge hadn’t had a problem with chopping off heads. Two heads to be exact. The most recent had been last year—a former Cotton Queen who’d lived in Cullman, Alabama.
Perhaps he should try it. Now would be the time if he was going to do it. After all, only one more kill after LaShae and he could win the game. Their scores were so close now that it could easily go either way. If something went wrong…
The Dying Game Page 24