We? Sam was aligning himself with her? Coming from Carter, use of the word we would have sounded possessive. From Sam, it merely sounded comforting.
“Jake offered to go down the well after Chris today,” she said thoughtfully.
“Yeah. He did. He also asked how Chris was doing.”
Marly thought about that. But if not Jake, then who? Duncan wasn’t on the premises right now. At least she was pretty sure he wasn’t. She couldn’t picture Carter making that sort of threat. Why would he? But Lou or Keefer?
“Jake said they left the horses in the pasture for the night,” Sam continued.
“Okay, thanks, Sam.”
She was intensely aware of his large hand, warming her skin beneath her shirt. She looked up, to find him studying her. His smoldering gaze heated more than her skin. She began to breathe too fast. Erratically.
For a timeless moment, they stared at one another. Then, as if it were inevitable, he bent down and his mouth settled over hers. Heat and promises. Marly stirred in welcome, yet Sam made no move to deepen the kiss. He pulled back slowly, leaving her to blink uncertainly.
“Lady, if I didn’t have five antsy kids waiting for me in your dining room, I’d let you thank me properly.”
“Ha.” Her voice was too shaky—like the rest of her. She made an effort to gain control, adding a lofty smile to her words. “I think that’s all the thanks you deserve, cowboy.”
“Yeah? Then I guess I’ll have to do something else that’s really heroic.”
Her heart pounded harder in anticipation.
“Later,” he added.
Marly leaned back in her chair and watched him leave the room with a cocky swagger she was sure he put on for her benefit. She found herself smiling. It was the first time she had felt relaxed in days.
“All because he kissed you?” she mused.
No, not just because he’d kissed her, but also because he’d offered to help. She had confidence in Sam, and, God help her, for the first time in years, she wanted to be with a man.
Her smile faded. She had wanted her husband once too, so what did that say? Be careful what you wish for?
“I’m smarter now,” she told the wranglers in the picture on the wall. “Older. Wiser. This time around, I don’t have to marry the man.” She rose from her chair, circled the desk and strode across the room.
This time around, she could take the few pleasures to be found in a relationship and send the man packing when it ended. She lifted the western Remington print her husband had liked so well and pulled it from the wall. She hated that picture, and it was time to make some changes in her life. This time around, she could walk away without expensive lawyers and crippling emotions.
The thought shouldhave left her feeling pleased.
SAM SIGHED as his bedroom door shut with a snick. Marly’s kids were going to be the death of him. Getting thrown in jail might almost be preferable to riding herd on five would-be toughs who were still just kids in need of a little direction, some different role models. And wasn’t he a great one?
He shrugged off that thought, wondering if there was a spot on his body that didn’t ache from directing all that enthusiasm. He touched the sensitive rope burn on his right hand, rolling his shoulders to ease the strain.
Marly had watched from the swing on the porch while he showed the boys a few more self-defense moves tonight. He didn’t invite her to participate this time. Touching her was becoming too great a temptation. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had stirred him so much with a simple kiss.
Simple, hell. There was nothing simple about Marly’s kiss. It was potent and deadly to a man in his situation.
“I need to call Lee,” he muttered.
What he really needed was to get out of here. There was nothing to be accomplished now that Chris was in the hospital. Unless the kid came back to the farm instead of going home, Sam’s opportunity to talk to the boy would be better in the city. It was too risky for him to try and visit Chris in the hospital. Each new person who saw Sam was an additional danger. Eventually, someone was bound to recognize him.
Somehow, he needed to get internal affairs to focus on Bill Porterfield. There had to be evidence somewhere, and Sam sure wasn’t going to find it sitting on a horse farm in Maryland.
He noticed the neatly folded pile of clothing sitting on his bed. Emma, the good fairy. With a smile, he began to strip. Naked, he padded into the bathroom, turned on the tap and stepped into the shower. The pulsing spray felt wonderful. He let his body absorb the moist heat, feeling it soothe some of his minor aches.
His mind instantly returned to Marly. There was no point in wishing things could be different. She was outof-bounds. Still, it was hard to keep his mind focused on his own situation, when Marly’s troubles were right here to hand. Could she be in danger?
He turned off the shower, troubled by that thought, and toweled himself dry. He was combing his hair in the fogged mirror when he heard a sound from his room. He spun quickly, realizing he hadn’t brought his gun into the bathroom with him. It was tucked under his pillow, out of reach. He scanned the room, looking for another weapon. There wasn’t one.
A light tap on the bathroom door was immediately followed by Marly’s voice. “Sam?”
Relief surged through him, and he wrapped the towel around his waist before throwing open the door.
“What are you doing in here?”
She took a step back, her eyes wide in surprise at his brusk tone. “I thought you might need this.” She held out a tube of liniment. It was the same stuff they used on the horses. “It smells foul, I know, but it does a great job on people, too. I’ve used it myself. I noticed how stiff you were moving when we put the boys down for the night, and I thought…”
She wet her lips. He really wished she hadn’t done that. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, and he realized her gaze was now riveted on his chest. A moment later, her gaze slipped lower.
Sam felt an instant, predictable reaction.
He took the tube from her fingers, careful not to touch her. Sam was pretty sure that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Thanks. You shouldn’t be in here.”
The pink deepened. There was hurt in her eyes. It was so tempting to kiss that expression away.
“I didn’t—”
“Jerome’s on the other side of the bathroom. I’m fairly certain he isn’t asleep yet.”
She drew herself up in anger. “I didn’t come in here for some slap-and-tickle, Sam.”
“Well, damn.” Relieved by her anger, he leaned casually against the bathroom doorjamb, though what he felt was anything but casual. “There’s no one else I’d rather play with.”
Her cheeks were cherry red now, and she was breathing hard, but his words had chased away most of the hurt from her expression.
“So I see.” She nodded pointedly toward his revealing towel before returning her gaze to his face.
Laughter sputtered forth. Her devil-take-you response was so unexpected it delighted him.
“I’ll say good-night then,” she told him.
She was almost out the door before he could stop her. As soon as he did it, he realized grabbing her arm had been a mistake. He eased his grip, afraid to mar her skin beneath the soft cotton blouse. She twisted to face him, and he searched her eyes, reading her uncertainty, her vulnerability—and, yes, her desire. The last part made his blood run hot.
“Someday, you’ll thank me for being a gentleman.”
She tossed her head. “Someday, you’ll regret the impulse.”
He grinned. “Trust me—I already do.”
“Good.”
With a low chuckle, he took her mouth. She was soft and sweet, and she responded almost greedily to the probe of his tongue. He swung her all the way around, bnnging her yielding body up against him.
Marly wound her arms about his neck, and he told himself to stop. Instead, he slid his fingers up her sides, letting them rest jus
t beneath the fullness of her breasts. She arched against him. That was all the incentive he needed to toss common sense to the winds. His fingers closed over one breast, cupping, then rubbing, then seeking out her nipple.
The soft moan of pleasure that she uttered was like the taste of ambrosia. He pinned her against the wall. Her eyes widened and Sam smiled. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”
Her eyes flickered closed in response, and his tongue darted in and out of her hot mouth. Marly made a pleased sound again.
From somewhere down the hall came a thump. Sanity made a belated but instant return. Sam released her, spinning to grab for the door. There was nothing to see in the corridor, but the sound was repeated.
“The kids,” he muttered. His hand stabbed at his hair. “Damn it. I’d better go see what they’re doing.”
“No.” She had recovered, as well. “I’ll go. You aren’t exactly dressed for scolding children. Good night, Sam.” She opened the door and marched down the hall with her head held high.
Was she relieved? Upset?
Or was she as horny as he was?
Her hand pounded on a door. “You have ten seconds and I’m coming in,” she warned. Her voice was steady. She never once looked back.
Sam retreated inside his room and closed the door. Picking up the tube of liniment from the floor where he had dropped it, he sagged down onto the bed, next to his clothing. He had to get out of here. This crazy attraction was out of hand. He’d been ready to take her right then and there. What was the matter with him?
Sam lifted the book he had snitched from her den and settled down on the bed in an effort to curb his thoughts. He’d leave in the morning, he decided. There wasn’t any other choice.
Pages into the novel, he realized he didn’t know who any of the main characters were or even what the plot was about. His mind was on a merry-go-round, spinning uselessly, and Marly was the gold ring, just out of reach. He clicked off the light, determined to catch a quick nap. Sleep proved impossible. His mind refused to put aside thoughts of the woman across the hall. What would her hair feel like against his chest?
“Damn it.” Sam sat up and stared around his dark bedroom. He was wanted in connection with a homicide. He didn’t have time to be thinking about anything else. Getting information was critical. Surely Lee would have something for him by now. Sam leaned back against the headboard, watching the digital clock flip numerals and listening to the sounds of the house settling for the night.
At 1:10, he pulled on his jeans. Barefoot, he headed downstairs to the den. Familiar with the layout, Sam went right to the desk and the telephone. He dialed Lee’s number in the darkness and thought about the risk he was taking. It was an even bigger risk tonight. If Lee had told George, or anyone, about his earlier call, the line was sure to be tapped.
“Have to trust somebody,” he muttered as the phone ran unanswered in his ear. Besides, he was pretty sure Lee wouldn’t turn him in. “Come on, partner, wake up.” But the phone simply continued to ring.
“Damn.” He replaced the receiver and stared at the wall. Lee might be working tonight. Sam would have to wait and call him again in a few hours. Or he could call the captain. The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed. Except that George was married. Cassandra wouldn’t take kindly to a call at this hour, and for sure she’d want to know who it was. It had been pretty apparent to him that George and his wife were having problems lately. The last thing he wanted to do was add to them. No, he couldn’t call George.
Unsettled, he stood and walked over to the window. The moon darted in and out between low scudding clouds, casting eerie shadows over the lawn. Sam spotted one of the horses moving restlessly in the paddock area next to the barn. That was odd. Jake had told him they turned the horses out into the field for the night.
He stared out over the porch. Nothing moved, other than an occasional firefly, but he felt a building sensc of unease he couldn’t quite shrug off. It was probably the approaching storm. Marly wouldn’t like the horses being outside if the weather turned nasty. Maybe he should rouse Carter. The two of them could stable the animals quickly.
A flicker of light caught his attention. His eyes strove to focus on the barn. There was light coming from the loft. Someone was moving around in there. Damn. He’d meant to check that out earlier, but he’d been sidetracked by the kids.
He raced for the stairs. Having grown up around horses, Sam knew better than to enter a barn in his bare feet. Besides, he needed his gun. In his room, he grabbed his boots from beside the bed and stuffed his feet inside. He had just reached for his gun when light poured into the hall and a shadow filled his open doorway.
“Oh!”
Sam didn’t have to wonder why Marly had gasped. He shoved the offending gun down in his boot and tugged on his shirt. She was backlit in his doorway by the light spilling from her room. Her long, silky hair tumbled about her shoulders. That image was going to haunt his dreams tonight. If he ever got to sleep, that is.
“Sam, what are you doing? I heard you run upstairs.”
So she hadn’t been able to sleep, either. Any other time, he would have been pleased by that notion. Not now. “There’s someone in the barn.”
“What? Who?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. Stay here.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped back.
He grabbed her shoulders. “After what happened last night, you stay here. Someone planned to hang a goat. No telling what he’s hanging right now.”
She looked stunned. He released her shoulders and started for the steps.
“Where did you get the gun?”
Sam didn’t bother to answer her question. “Wait right there. If I’m not back inside of ten minutes, call the police.”
“No. Wait, Sam.”
He was already halfway down the stairs. It was still hot outside, but a breeze tumbled past, pushing clouds across the night sky. Sam could almost feel the approaching rain. He took time to scan his surroundings. Lightning flashed in the distance. A car sat parked at the far end of the driveway. It was off to one side, and completely dark, partially hidden beneath a cluster of dogwoods.
He withdrew the gun. Whoever went with that car was probably inside the barn. He cursed the fact that there was no cover of any sort between the house and the other building. All the person inside had to do was look out and Sam would be spotted before he got anywhere near the barn door. He could only hope the person was too busy to look.
The light coming from the loft was brighter now. Too bright. Sam caught a whiff of smoke even as the horse called Dickens squealed in alarm from the paddock alongside the stable.
Sam cursed again as he began to run. He made it across the open area and flattened himself against the wooden wall of the barn to listen. The sound of fire licking away at the dry hay was unmistakable. The place would be an inferno in minutes. He pulled back the slide on his automatic and stepped inside, just as the overhead sprinkler system kicked in. An impossibly loud siren shrilled, nearly deafening him.
Sam ignored both the water and the noise. He inched forward slowly, hugging the wall as he approached the nearest stall. He swiveled his head, trying to detect the slightest movement. Nothing. Yet he sensed that he was not alone.
His stomach churned with acid as he peered into the first stall. Empty. He looked across the way and stopped moving altogether. A body lay crumpled in an untidy mound. The pitchfork embedded in its back seemed to sway.
Sam spun, looking for the person who had wielded the weapon. Still nothing stirred. He stepped forward slowly. A crunch sounded under his booted foot. Even in the deepening darkness, he saw the bent frame of broken glasses.
He shot a glance around him once again. There was no motion anywhere, but he could hear the flames overhead. The area darkened as the smoke spread outward. Dripping with water, he stepped inside the stall, keeping his back to the wall. He muttered an expletive as he hunkered down next to the bo
dy. He didn’t need light to see the face. He knew who it belonged to. The pitchfork was buried so deep in the man’s flesh, he knew the victim wouldn’t survive. Still, he felt for a pulse.
Eyes fluttered open.
“Bill. Bill, can you hear me?”
The siren stopped as quickly as it had started. Light flooded the barn. Sam saw, rather than heard, his name on Bill’s lips. Bill must have recognized his voice, because Sam knew the man was blind as a bat without his glasses.
“Hold on, buddy. I’ll get you some help.”
“Joe.” Bill’s hand made a feeble attempt to reach for him before it fell limply to the hard-packed earth.
Once again, Marly’s gasp caught Sam unprepared She stood in the opening, horror etched on her face. Before he could say a word, she whirled and ran. He shoved his gun down his boot and stood, just as Carter and Jake erupted through the main door.
“Cover the exits!” he yelled to them. “The perp may still be inside!”
“What the—”
Carter ran forward and took one look, and his eyes met Sam’s.
“Marly went to call 911,” Sam told him. At least that was what he hoped she had done. “The person may still be inside the barn. Seal off the exits.”
“The fire…”
“I think the sprinklers have it under control.”
Carter backed out and shouted to Jake and the other two men. Sam turned back to Bill, but it was already too late. The portly detective wouldn’t have to worry about his wife’s diets ever again.
“Jesus, Bill. Why?”
“You know him?”
Sam’s head jerked in surprise at Marly’s question. “I thought you went to call for help.”
“I did. I used the phone in the tack room.” Her eyes returned to the body at his feet. “Oh, my God. Sam, that’s Officer Porterfield.”
“Marly, get out of here. The guy who did this may still be inside.”
“Then what are you doing in here?”
Good question. He should be miles away and running hard. Sam looked up at the sprinklers that continued to rain down on them. “Drowning,” he answered succinctly. “Come on, let’s get outside.” A sneeze punctuated his last word, and he cursed.
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