by Geri Krotow
She couldn’t help laughing. “It was the thought that counted.”
“That’s not what you said back then.”
“No, I was a real bitch about it, wasn’t I?”
“It wasn’t the paint job that made you angry.”
“No.”
They’d had so few hours together, and when they were home, she’d wanted to make the most of it, not do home-improvement projects. She’d walked in on him, back early from a grueling day. All she’d wanted was to get into a steaming-hot bath and then sink into bed and let him spoon her.
Instead, she’d found their bedroom full of everything he’d moved out of the bathroom, the tub full of painting paraphernalia. She’d been furious and taken out her cranky mood on him.
“I was really nasty, Drew. I’m sorry.”
“Water under the bridge. That was a hard time for you—make or break as far as getting selected for a command tour. I wasn’t around enough to give you the support you deserved.”
“What about me not there for you while you studied your butt off? We always thought it would be Easy Street once you had your degrees and I was back on shore duty.”
“We were young when we set out those dreams, Gwen. And still pretty young when we achieved them.”
“That was only what—six or seven years ago?”
“We’ve both been through a lot since then.”
They had, alone and together.
“Do you think you’ve changed?” She looked at his profile in the museum light and while she still saw the Drew she’d fallen in love with more than a decade ago, she also saw the lines that had appeared during their breakup. They’d deepened since his clinic’s catastrophe.
“Hell, yeah. I’m still me. I’ve still got a tendency to want things my way, but of course I’ve changed. It was inevitable—we all have to grow up sometime.”
“I didn’t change, not really, until after I took my trip to the jungle. Even then, it wasn’t until I found Pax that everything started to look different.” After she’d discovered that she could put up with any kind of insect crawling over her, that she was willing to kill to save her baby’s life.
His gaze at once warmed her and stopped her cold in its seriousness.
“You’re still you, Gwen. Under all of what you had to become in order to survive. I see you.”
Uninvited tears slipped down her cheeks.
“It wasn’t that...that horrible.”
“Of course it was.”
Mindless of their fellow art patrons, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight.
“Of course it was.”
* * *
“I THOUGHT WE were going to a hotel in the city.”
“This will be more fun.” Drew had convinced her to let him drive for what she’d figured would be a twenty-minute trip to a convenient overnight hotel.
“Sure, but this was supposed to be my gift to you.”
“It is, trust me.” He flashed her a smile that made her stomach flip as though she were sixteen and on a date with her secret crush.
“You weren’t expecting to stay overnight, were you? Or was that part of your plan the whole time?”
“You know this wasn’t my idea to begin with. I’m going with my gut here, sweetheart, and for once you’ve given in without too much of a fight.” She began to feel apprehensive as they left the outskirts of Seattle; her apprehension grew as he drove them into the deeply forested byways, toward the mountains.
He wouldn’t.
He hadn’t.
Not there.
Yes, he had. He pulled up to the exclusive spa resort where they’d celebrated their anniversary years earlier.
It had been the most romantic night of their marriage.
“Drew, this isn’t a good idea.”
He shut off the ignition.
“It’s a great idea, Gwen. No matter where we each go after this, we have a chance to come full circle. A lot of couples have goodbye sex at the end of their marriage. We never even had a goodbye kiss—we were both so hurt and angry.”
“But this, this is—”
“This is our night. One night, Gwen. I hurt you, and it’s the least I can do. I can’t make up for being an ass and throwing our marriage away, but we can have a great night. I’m not asking you to forgive me—hell, I should be shot for not keeping you first in my life. Keeping us first.”
“I’m just as much to blame here, Drew.” She gulped. Vulnerability wasn’t her strong suit.
* * *
HE KNEW THAT if there was anyplace he could make love to her the way she deserved, it was the lodge. They’d had the best sex of their lives here, when they’d celebrated their seventh anniversary.
When they thought they were stronger than life.
She’d probably forgotten, or blocked the happy memories they shared. He understood that. Some things were best left buried. Their split had been necessary for both of them—they’d had to heal from the wounds they’d inflicted on each other.
Gwen was stunning with her hair draped over her shoulders, her top low-cut enough so he could see her cleavage. He still dreamed of losing himself between her breasts.
“I feel a little underdressed.” She toyed with her linen napkin as she glanced around the dimly lit dining room. They were seated next to the huge glass wall that offered a magnificent view of Snoqualmie Falls. The other diners were mostly couples who spoke in hushed, reverent tones. The place did have a kind of sacred feel. Of course he could be in a barren desert with her downrange and find it mystical.
“You’re beautiful.”
Her indrawn breath made her chest rise and the fabric of her shirt tightened over her breasts.
“Drew, no mushy stuff.”
He laughed. “Okay, no mush. Do you want to talk gritty?”
“Not exactly my strength, either.
“You, Gwen, are strength personified.”
She gulped her ice water.
“Are you blushing?”
“No, it’s a hot flash.”
“You’re a little young for that, sweetheart.”
She gave him a halfhearted smile. “You never know. I’ve been through an awful lot these past few months...”
“Now I know you’re feeling better if you’re pulling the pity card for your Philippine escapade.”
She shrugged. “I get it where I can.”
“Have you picked out the massage you want?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Gwen, what’s wrong?” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand.
“I feel awful having fun when Pax is still so far away.”
“And I feel like crap knowing there might be someone out there who killed Dottie and I’m here, doing nothing about it.”
“You don’t have any control over it, Drew. That’s Cole Ramsey’s job.”
“Just like you have no control over Pax at this point. You’ve done all the legwork, and the State Department has to finish the job for you.”
She sniffed. “I suppose we’re in the same boat.”
“And your idea to get away was brilliant.”
“You didn’t want to.”
“No, but I’m really glad I’m here. With you. Now.” He squeezed her hand.
She nodded. “Me, too.”
He picked his menu up.
“Do you want to share an appetizer?”
* * *
GWEN WALKED DOWN the hallway from the spa to their room. The massage had been wonderful, but all she’d been able to think about was how it would feel to be with Drew again.
This wasn’t like when she’d first come back. That had been an act of need on both their parts. She thrust her hands in the deep po
ckets of her terry-cloth robe. She and Drew were so good at shoving down their real feelings and needs. Compartmentalizing was a useful skill taught by the navy. It helped pilots, submariners, ship drivers and other operators stay focused on their mission while all hell broke loose around them. It had helped her stay alive in the jungle, and eventually get out.
But when it came to personal relationships, compartmentalization sucked.
The storm wave of emotions she’d had to wade through this past month had proved that to her. Her heart couldn’t take another decade of avoiding unwelcome feelings to the point that she could deny their very existence. Whenever she did that, she was cheating herself of whatever lesson she should have been learning in the moment. And more than that, she held back from those she loved.
Love.
Did she still love Drew?
Of course she did; she’d always feel an unconditional love for him. He’d been her first husband, her friend and confidant through the most pivotal times in her life to date.
Liar.
Newfound knowledge fought with her instinct to ignore the voice that said she was still in love with him. That she still wanted him to make love to her as if she were the only woman in the world.
Not as a goodbye.
She slipped her key card into the door slot.
“How was it?”
Drew sat at the window with his iPad. It was criminal, really, that he could look so sexy in his shirt and jeans, his bare feet propped on a generic cocktail table.
“Great. I feel limp as a noodle.”
He nodded toward the dresser that ran the length of the room. “I know you’re supposed to drink a lot of water after a massage, but I thought you’d enjoy a glass of champagne.”
She read the label and groaned. It was her favorite domestic sparkling wine.
“You remembered.”
“I like it, too.” He was beside her, popping the cork, pouring them each a flute of bubbling rosé.
“You do not. You’re a beer guy.”
“True, but a glass of nice wine every now and then is okay with me.”
“To...” She held out her glass and was horrified when her hand started to tremble. She’d almost said “us.”
“New beginnings.” He saved her with a clink of his glass against hers before he sipped his drink.
She allowed the effervescence to play with her lips, her tongue.
“Mmm. Even better than I remembered.”
“Didn’t you have this in the P.I.?” he asked in a tone of mock innocence.
Bubbles went up her nose and she spewed what would have been her second sip. Laughter spurted out of her. Drew maintained his bemused air the entire time, not flinching as she sprayed the sparkling wine all over his face.
“You may claim otherwise,” she said, “but you still have your sense of humor.”
“You’re the only one who laughs at my stupid jokes.” He took her glass and placed it with his on the dresser. His hands cupped her face.
Her laughter quieted to an intense awareness.
“I know I’ve already said this, and I’ll keep saying it. You’re beautiful, Gwen.”
“You’re dripping champagne.”
He shook his head. “You’re more glorious every day. You’ve always been exceptionally pretty.” He stroked her jawline, trailed his fingers along her neck, caressed her collarbone. “But you’ve become even more gorgeous. The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever known. The sexiest.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond, which was just as well. She wanted his lips to stop talking and start kissing.
Gwen raised her head and pressed her lips to his. She licked his top lip and his bottom one with light, soft strokes. Drew’s mouth opened, and she fell into the familiar, warm comfort she’d dreamt of even in their darkest moments together. The love had died, or so she thought, but her physical need for him never had. She’d hated herself for it at their lowest points, but now felt grateful it was still there— apparently for both of them.
He moved his hands from her face and grasped her waist as he planted his feet on either side of hers. “My turn.”
He thrust his tongue into her mouth. This was still Drew—his scent, his confident sexual appetite, that heavenly way with his fingers. But he introduced an edge to his lovemaking. As though he needed to put his primal stamp on her with each stroke and kiss.
Gwen couldn’t get close enough to him, to his hard chest and abdomen. To his erection. She pushed her belly into him and relished his groan when her hand pressed against his jeans, feeling his hard penis under her palm.
In one movement Drew untied her robe and pushed it off her shoulders. He nipped at her neck, her shoulders, until he lowered his head to her breasts.
He paused, his face between her breasts, his hands on either side.
“Don’t stop.”
“I’ve missed this so much, Gwen. I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
He responded by bringing one finger to her lips; she took it in her mouth and sucked hard.
He groaned and put his mouth over her left nipple. The wet heat of his tongue circled and lapped until she had both hands in his hair, drawing him closer, closer.
“My knees are giving out, Drew.” She let out a shaky laugh and attempted to back them up toward the bed.
“Not yet.” Drew stroked down her belly and slid two fingers into her most private place. She arched her head back. No thought could compete with his magic caresses or with the deep kiss he gave her. Still standing, she looped one leg around his waist to allow him further access. Drew stroked her while moving his fingers in that intoxicating way. Drew.
“Oh—” The rest was lost on her scream as his touch sent her into climax. She bit down on his shoulder as her hands gripped his backside. She didn’t know if she was falling or flying....
“So sexy, Gwen. Always so sexy.” He withdrew his hand and she whimpered.
“Help me, baby.” He had his shirt over his head and she pushed him back onto the bed, unbuttoning his jeans as he hit the king-size mattress.
She kissed his abdomen while she got the shirt off. Her tongue had a mind of its own, stroking and licking its way around his navel and down to his erection, which she’d bared when she’d unzipped his jeans. His groan spurred her on, and she tugged off his pants. When he lifted his hips to help her, she took full advantage of having freed his swollen penis from its confines. She lowered her lips to him and didn’t stop sucking and licking until he pushed her away with a gasp.
“Gwen!”
“Mmm?”
He sat up and grasped her shoulders, pushing her onto her back.
“I have to have you.”
“I’m right here.”
He pulled on a condom with shaking hands.
The careful, controlled caresses he’d given earlier were gone as he took her in one strong thrust. He felt larger and hotter than before, and she tightened at the familiar yet long-missed connection.
He stilled, his elbows on either side of her neck.
“Open your eyes, Gwen. Are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and saw the heat, the passion that was distinctly Drew. She also saw his concern—for her. As much as he needed this, he needed her to be okay, not to be uncomfortable.
Drew—the healer.
“I’m beyond okay, Drew.”
She grabbed his buttocks and squeezed, urging him to press into her more deeply.
“You’re so hot, so tight.” He spoke through clenched teeth as he began to move, stroking in and out in an excruciatingly slow rhythm.
“Faster,” she gasped.
He let out a quick, sharp laugh. “Patience, sweetheart.”
She bit his shoulders and arms wit
h quick, impatient nips.
“Now, Drew!”
He pulled out, slowly, slowly, before plunging back into her again and again until they both yelled out in release.
* * *
COLE RAMSEY SAT at his desk and clicked through all his notes on the Forsyth case. He knew Drew as well as he knew any of his friends. But he had to be impartial, unaffected by personal relationships. Because he also knew from the years he’d worked in this field that sociopaths often befriended those around them. They were often charismatic and highly intelligent—and usually impossible to identify.
Dottie’s murder had been committed by someone smart enough to leave no trace. Both Drew and Serena fit that bill.
However... He thought Drew might be right about Opal.
Drew was no psychopath and killer; deep down, he knew that.
But if he didn’t find a break in this damn case, the DA was going to call for an arraignment, despite the fact that the evidence was entirely circumstantial.
He’d tracked down every relative, every friend of Dottie’s. He hadn’t met her but she’d been popular in Oak Harbor; he’d been hard-pressed to get anyone to say anything bad about her, except for one neighbor who didn’t like how she “grew those wild flowers all over her lawn.” Dottie’s landscaping, incorporating natural plants into her seasonal blooms, was actually common in Whidbey.
Cole was familiar with plants; he’d been raised by one of the island’s best landscapers. His father had been disappointed when Cole chose criminal justice over agriculture, but had held out hope Cole would eventually become interested in at least the business side of the nursery and gift shop.
He fingered the African violets on his desk. He’d inherited his father’s green thumb and wished he could be as enthusiastic about plants as he was about fighting for justice. At times, it was a tempting diversion, especially during investigations that went cold and whenever innocents were hurt. That was the worst, the kids he couldn’t protect.
Mental images of Anita with her kids brought a smile to his lips. She was the strongest woman he’d ever met.
And the sexiest.
As if summoned by his thoughts, his cell phone buzzed, with her name printed across the display.