by Rita Herron
Grant coaxed Emma back into the wooden chair and pulled another up beside her. “What is it now?”
Warner leveled his gaze at Grant. “We did some further checking on Pete Landers, the guy who owns the black Jeep.”
“Yeah?”
“Found out some interesting things about his past. How well do you know Landers?”
Grant shrugged. “As well as anyone knows a co-worker, I guess. We work together, attend general meetings, sometimes have lunch with a group of clients. We’re definitely not buddies.”
“Ever socialize with him or his family outside the office?”
“No.” Grant’s curiosity was piqued. “What are you getting at, Detective?”
“So you didn’t know Mrs. Landers?”
Grant frowned. “There isn’t a Mrs. Landers, at least not that I know of.”
Warner cracked his gum. “You’re right, there’s not anymore. But Landers was married. His wife died about a year ago,” Warner continued. “In a car accident.”
Grant’s jaw went slack.
“That’s terrible,” Emma said in a low voice.
Warner nodded. “Worst part was that his wife was pregnant at the time. Baby didn’t have a chance.”
A fine sheen of sweat dampened Grant’s neck. “Pete never mentioned it.” He thought back over the past year. When had Pete come to work for the firm?
“Records show Landers signed on with your company right after his wife’s death. Other company he worked for said he went berserk after the accident. They encouraged him to seek counseling, but he refused. Said he got volatile, almost went off the deep end.”
“What a tragedy, losing both his wife and baby,” Emma added quietly.
“I had no idea,” Grant said. His gaze shot to Warner’s. “But I don’t understand what this has to do with Emma.”
“Maybe nothing,” Warner said. “But a shock like he suffered can make some people go crazy. I was thinking about the threats Mrs. Wadsworth’s received. Seems sort of eerie, kind of parallel. The car accident. You have a baby, he lost his. If Landers has something against you, maybe he snapped and wants you to hurt like he’s been hurting. Sounds like a motive to me.”
“He wants the promotion I’m up for.” The threats flashed through Grant’s head. I lost my loved one and so will you. The broken locket and missing picture. Pete’s chastising him about staying home with his family. Could Pete’s ambition and grief drive him to such cruel acts?
EMMA CLUTCHED Grant’s hand the entire way home, comforted by his presence. Warner followed them, wanting to confer with the officer stationed outside.
“How’s Carly?” Emma asked the moment she stepped through the door.
“She’s sleeping,” Kate said. “We went to the store earlier to buy diapers.”
“You took Carly out alone?” Grant asked.
Kate bristled. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to go to the store with her.”
“It’s okay, Kate,” Emma said. “We’re both on edge right now.”
Grant explained about the shooting.
“Oh, my God!” Kate exclaimed. “I can’t believe it.” She gestured toward Carly’s room. “You don’t think this crazy person would hurt Carly, do you?”
“I don’t know, but we’re not going to take any chances,” Grant said firmly.
“That’s right,” Warner cautioned. The detective had come in before he left, saying he had a few more questions. “If anyone comes to the door, calls, whatever, I want to know about it.”
Kate gestured toward a long white box on the dining table. “That box was on the back doorstep when I arrived.”
They all moved toward it hesitantly. Warner slowly lifted it and listened, took it to the kitchen sink and slowly undid the ribbon, then opened it. He carefully removed the tissue, and Emma gasped when she saw what was inside.
“Oh, my,” Kate said, pressing her hand to her cheek. “Dead roses.”
Emma’s gaze rested on the enclosed card. Roses are red, violets are blue. I lost my family, and so will you.
Her stomach heaved when she saw a snapshot of Grant, Carly and herself underneath the note. The picture had been cut into a dozen tiny pieces.
“Damn.” Grant’s eyes darkened. He started to pick up the butchered photograph, but Warner ordered him not to touch anything. He rubbed his neck, then turned away, his hand at Emma’s elbow. “I don’t understand why someone would want to torment Emma like this.”
“I’ll have the box and contents dusted for prints,” Warner stated. “And we’ll check with the florist again.”
Kate found a paper bag and the policeman carefully put the box in it. He turned to Grant. “Mr. Wadsworth, I need to know where you were when your wife was shot at.”
“I was at River Mill Steakhouse,” Grant snapped.
“Can someone corroborate your story?”
Emma flinched when Grant’s hand curled into a fist. “Yes. A co-worker and one of my clients.”
“You were with Priscilla?” Kate said in an accusing tone.
“And Adam Bronson,” Grant said, glaring at Kate. “We were closing a business deal.”
“Anyone at the house today other than the three of you?”
“Martha, the housekeeper, came earlier,” Kate replied.
“But she had to clean the jewelry store where I worked at five,” Emma said. “And there hasn’t been anyone else here since.”
“And you, Kate?”
“I was baby-sitting Carly,” Kate said.
“But you went to the store. Did anyone see you?”
Kate’s eyes widened. “The clerk, I suppose, if she remembers me, that is.”
“You or your wife own a gun?” Warner asked, his gaze on Grant.
“No,” Grant said adamantly. “I’d never have one in the house with a child around.”
Warner nodded his approval, his mouth almost quirking into a smile. “How about you, ma’am?” he asked, directing his question to Kate.
Kate bit her lip. “Er…no, I’m afraid of guns. Why?”
“Just checking.” He gestured toward Grant. “I’ll have a talk with Pete Landers. See if he owns a gun.”
“You do that,” Grant said between clenched teeth. Then he escorted Warner to the door.
A few minutes later Emma tried to eat the Chinese food Kate had picked up, but the meal was awkward and tense. Kate chattered on about how good the dishes were, and Grant was unusually quiet.
“Dan called and asked me out,” Kate said idly.
“Are you going to date him?” Emma asked, pushing away the tasteless food.
“I don’t know,” Kate said. “He’s really persistent. But I’m not sure I can trust him, especially now that I know he has an arrest record.”
Emma saw Grant tense, but he didn’t comment. Maybe he and Kate would put aside their bickering for tonight.
“I think I’m going to go lie down,” Emma said. “Kate, I appreciate your keeping Carly, but maybe you’d better go home tonight.”
Kate frowned, then pushed away from the table “All right. But I’ll clean up the dishes before I go.”
“Thanks for the dinner, Kate,” Grant said. “I’ll help clean up.”
Kate smiled. “That’s okay, Grant. Why don’t you take care of Emma?”
Grant nodded and walked Emma to the bedroom door. Emma gazed into his eyes, Grant’s hungry expression almost stripping her of her resolve. But exhaustion pulled at her muscles and she swayed slightly.
“Come on, you need to lie down,” Grant said. He curved his arm around her waist and coaxed her into the room. Moonlight drifted through the bedroom window, dappling soft lines of light through the room and turning Grant’s eyes to a smoky blue. His broad hands cupped her face and he gently lowered his mouth, kissing her with such sweetness she felt tears burn her eyes.
He slipped from the room with a whispered good-night. Emma changed into a gown and crawled under the covers. The empty room closed around her like a tomb, dr
aining the life and energy from her, sucking her into a pain-filled state of semi-sleep. She’d never felt more bereft and alone in her life.
“CARLY, YOU’RE AN ANGEL,” Grant whispered. She snuggled into his arms, her tiny lips parting slightly as he slipped the bottle from her mouth. One chubby hand curled against his chest, and his protective instincts mushroomed. He hugged her to him, pressing his face to hers and inhaling the scent of baby powder and innocence, his anxiety over the danger surrounding Emma heightening his senses.
“I love you, Carly.” He carried her through the darkened nursery to her crib. For an instant when he lay her down, she opened her eyes and stared at him, the trust and adoration so strong his chest swelled and tears filled his eyes. Then her mouth curved into a smile, and he swallowed, watching with an awestruck love as she curled her fist beside her curly blond hair and drifted back to sleep.
At least his daughter was sleeping peacefully, he thought, frustration mounting again. He could hear Emma in her bedroom, tossing and turning, and had to fight his primitive urge to go in and cradle her to his chest and hold her all night. But he’d promised he wouldn’t touch her, not unless she asked, and earning her trust and love was more important than his physical needs. Then he heard a whimper and he turned, blinded by the light coming from the opened doorway. Emma’s sweet scent drifted toward him, making him yearn to hold her.
“Grant?” Emma’s voice came from the shadowed doorway.
“Yeah, I’m here.” Her whispered sigh made his stomach clench. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head, the golden strands of her hair swishing on her shoulders, her slender body haloed in the moonlight. “I can’t sleep,” she murmured.
He moved slowly toward her, his hand outstretched, his arms open. She fell into them and clung to him. He guided her back to bed and helped her climb beneath the thick comforter. Unspoken needs materialized, stronger than the distance that separated them, stronger than the forgotten vows and promises of a lifetime. He removed his shoes, then stretched out on the bed beside her and took her in his arms. The minute she curled into him, her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder, he brushed a whisper of a kiss on the top of her head.
“Stay with me tonight,” she said in a sleepy whisper.
“I will, sweetheart.” His throat was thick with emotion. He hugged her to him, pulling her into the safety of his embrace, and he heard a soft sigh of contentment escape her lips. Then he closed his eyes, dreaming of the day he could do more than hold her, imagining stripping her gown and dropping hungry kisses all over her body. She was warm and as sweetly fragrant as a flower garden, as heady as the finest wine, and he wanted to devour every tantalizing inch of her.
But for now, lying beside her, holding her in his arms, and knowing that she’d taken a giant step toward trusting him was enough to keep him content through the night.
EMMA WOKE UP, feeling vaguely content and safe in spite of the lingering memories of the incident in the parking lot. When she opened her eyes, she saw Grant lying beside her. She felt comforted because he was there. Comforted, but embarrassed. The night before had been filled with nightmares. Then she’d found Grant in Carly’s room, bent over her crib, murmuring sweet loving words, and she’d asked him to come to bed with her.
Peeking lower, she realized he’d removed his clothes except for his boxers. His chest was bare, and at the sight of his broad muscled shoulders, heat curled through her.
She ran her hand over his chest, reveling in the powerful muscles beneath her fingers. His scent invaded her senses, reviving desires she’d thought lost with her past. His lips parted slightly in his sleep and he mumbled something, then rolled to his side and slung his arm across her, his hand groping downward, finally resting on her hip. He groaned, a happy catlike sound, then smiled.
She closed her eyes, unable to fight the lustful sensations stirring in her abdomen as his leg brushed hers and his breath feathered against her cheek. When she looked at him again, she saw he was awake and staring at her, the early-morning sunlight flickering off cheekbones, his blue eyes filled with the sleepy haze of sensual awareness.
“Hi,” he said in a husky voice.
“Good morning,” Emma murmured.
He stared at her for a long time, his gaze intense. Then he pulled her close, and she snuggled against his chest. It felt incredibly sweet to lie with him, a little slice of heaven early in the morning.
“This feels nice,” Grant said softly, his thumb caressing her shoulder. “I’ve missed mornings like this.”
She nodded against him, loving the feel of his heart beating against her cheek.
“I’ve missed holding you, Emma.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered, and closed her eyes, savoring the tenderness of the moment.
But the phone jangled and Grant groaned, giving her a look of regret as he reached for it. When she heard him say the detective’s name, she headed for the shower. Desperate to gain control, she turned on the hot water and stepped under the showerhead, the bright bathroom light illuminating the scar on her thigh and bringing back reality. Even if she remembered her marriage to Grant, she was still too scarred to become intimate with him. He would be expecting the same woman he had married, the flawless face and body, not the scarred, ugly—
“Emma, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, stepping out of the shower and jerking a towel around her. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll make some coffee.”
By the time she combed her damp hair and dressed in a pair of blue sweatpants and a powder-blue shell sweater, Grant had breakfast and coffee ready. She avoided his gaze as she slid into her chair.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
“Yes, and you?”
“Better than I have in a while,” he admitted with a sexy smile.
She couldn’t help but smile back at his mischievous honest reaction. “I’m glad. I know this is hard on you.”
His smile faded slightly. “We’re going to get through this, Emma.”
She nodded, slicing into the steaming omelet. “Is Carly still sleeping?”
As if on cue, they heard the sound of Carly’s early-morning gurgling and they both laughed. “I’ll get her,” Grant said. “She can have breakfast with us.”
Like a normal family, Emma thought, as he came back and propped her in the infant seat between them.
“Hi, sweetie.” She grabbed Carly’s finger. “So you’re hungry, too, huh? Did you smell Daddy’s yummy eggs?”
Grant grinned rakishly and kissed Carly’s forehead, then Emma’s. “Thanks, Emma.”
She looked at him. “For what?”
“For letting me hold you last night.”
Emma nodded, the memory of his husky voice lingering between them during the rest of the morning. The sweet tenderness they’d shared during the night had created a bond that neither seemed to want to break.
“What did Warner say earlier?” Emma asked after they’d settled Carly on a blanket on the floor.
“Well, no witnesses to the shooting.” He paused. “And Pete denies owning a gun.”
A knock sounded at the front door and Martha bustled in. “Good morning, folks. I brought you some peach pie.” She placed a plastic container on the kitchen counter. “Dan said to send his best. He wants to stop by again and see you, Emma.”
“Sure, I’d like that,” Emma said.
“Said he wonders if you might want to come back to work sometime.”
“I don’t know. I’m certainly not ready right now.”
“Emma’s going to stay home with Carly,” Grant said, his voice level. “We discussed it before you quit, Emma.”
Emma gritted her teeth in frustration, wishing there weren’t so many holes in her life. Martha stopped to talk to Carly for a few moments, then tweaked her toes. “I’m going to change your linens, Carly, so you’ll have a fresh bed for your nap.” Martha dashed off to the nursery
with a wave.
Carly pedaled her arms and legs, cooing up at Emma. Emma lifted Grant’s jacket from the chair and moved it out of Carly’s reach. A small slip of paper and a matchbook fell from the pocket and she picked them up. A phone number was scribbled on the paper, and the matchbox was from a place called the Seascape Motel. Her pulse hammered wildly.
She remembered the red lipstick and Kate’s comments. “Grant, what are these?”
Grant took the paper and matchbook from her, then studied them. “I don’t know. Where’d you find them?”
“They fell out of your jacket just now,” Emma explained.
“What?” A frown drew his mouth down. “They aren’t mine. I’ve never been to this motel.”
Emma hesitated, unsure what to say. “They were in your pocket,” she said slowly, “but you don’t know where they came from.”
“That’s right,” Grant said, his voice growing defensive. He sat down beside her and met her gaze. “Emma, I swear I’ve never been to this place. I don’t know how those matches got in my pocket.” He released a tired sigh. “The last motel I went to was the one we stayed in before Carly was born. We took a weekend trip to Florida for some sun.”
Emma pressed her memory for the slightest hint of what he was talking about.
“And the time before that, we stayed in this little bed-and-breakfast in the mountains. We got snowed in. That was the weekend we conceived Carly.”
Emma shifted, dangling a toy in front of Carly, suddenly uncomfortable.
“I’ll never forget the day we learned you were pregnant,” he said, his voice filled with the fondness of memories. “You bought this home pregnancy test. When I got home, you’d fixed a special candlelight dinner. Then I asked where the wine was, and you grinned and showed me the test. We drank orange juice, instead, and danced around the room to Celine Dion.”
Tears burned the backs of Emma’s eyes as he continued reminiscing about their past together. “Our wedding day was the happiest day of my life, then Carly was born, and I thought that was the happiest day.” He chuckled and Emma felt like weeping. “Of course I almost passed out when you delivered, but I was exhausted and hadn’t eaten all day, thinking about your labor and all—”