Don't Go Home

by Janelle Taylor

  And then she surprised him.

  She pushed him down onto his back and lay on her side against him, running her hands and mouth over his chest. And then she took him in her hand and brought him to the edge.

  “Mia,” he breathed in her ear. “I have to have you.”

  She shifted until she was lying on top of him, her legs straddling his own. As much as he wanted to look at every inch of her, he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to keep control.

  And then she slid down on top of the length of him, slowly ... slowly ... and then faster, harder.

  “Oh, Mia,” he whispered, trailing kisses along her neck, across her breasts.

  His hands roamed her entire body as she shook and trembled and writhed on top of him, and then he couldn’t take another moment. He flipped her over so that she was on her back and he was on top of her, and then he teased her, the tip of his manhood toying with the soft, sweet entrance to her femininity.

  “Matthew, please,” she moaned. “Please ...”

  He flicked his tongue over her nipples, lightly biting the rosy peaks until they were hard, and her husky moan almost undid him. He savored every inch of her warm, smooth body, his mouth and hands everywhere at once.

  And when he couldn’t take another moment, he entered her gently.

  She groaned low in her throat, her eyes closed, and he thrust harder, then withdrew until his manhood was almost completely outside of her. Her eyes flew open, and she arched up.

  Their gazes locked, he teased the sweet entrance to her femininity with the tip of his erection, and she arched her back again, her head moving from side to side.

  “Matthew ... ,” she whispered brokenly, a smile toying at her lips.

  “Yes?” he breathed into her ear, his tongue darting in and out, then down her neck and across her breasts. He took her nipple in his mouth again and suckled the rosebuds until they hardened, while slipping his manhood inside her inch by inch.

  “Matthew ... ,” she whispered hoarsely.

  He thrust into her hard, and she met him, their mouths locking against each other, their tongues exploring, their hands slipping and sliding everywhere they could reach.

  They rocked together in perfect rhythm until he heard her moan over and over and then gasp, her expression blissful, and then his own world exploded.

  He kissed her softly on the lips, then rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. “That. Was. Amazing.”

  “Mmmm,” she breathed next to him. “Amazing.”

  And then he picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom and slid her under the satin duvet comforter. In the dimmest recesses of his mind, he thought of kissing her good night and heading to his bunk on the sofa, but there was no way he could bear being that far away from her.

  He slid under the comforter and wrapped his arms around her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mia knew he was gone even before she opened her eyes.

  She rolled over in bed on her side and stretched her arm over the empty spot where Matthew had been. It was still warm.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of him, masculine, soapy, clean. She could still feel the imprint of his lips, his mouth, all over her body.

  No matter what they’d both said or would say, no matter how either of them felt, last night hadn’t been a mistake. Mia had never experienced anything like it, not in five years of marriage, not even when she’d still been in love with her ex-husband.

  She’d had no idea that lovemaking could be that way, could feel that way, could take her places inside herself that would set her free.

  Which was why she wasn’t upset, wasn’t crying, wasn’t beside herself with disappointment. David Anderson had called her frigid, boring. But last night, Mia knew she’d been anything but.

  She was enough. She had been enough.

  A smile formed on her lips as the warmth spread through her stomach and traveled downward and upward.

  Last night hadn’t been a mistake.

  Matthew, judging from his early morning absence, didn’t agree.

  I will not fall in love with a man who doesn’t want a relationship, she told herself. I won’t, won’t, won’t.

  The problem was, she already had.

  She flung off the covers and trudged into the bathroom. His clothes were gone from the floor.

  It wasn’t that she expected his clothes to be there. She didn’t know what she expected. Matthew to be lying next to her, his arm heavy over her stomach, his soft breath against her neck?

  Mia felt the sting of tears at the backs of her eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, she ordered herself. He told you he’s not interested in commitment. You just had an entire conversation last night about listening.

  You chose not to listen.

  And now you’re going to pay the consequences.

  Mia closed her eyes and willed herself to stop thinking about him. For a very long time she’d prayed that David Anderson would love her, would accept her for who she was. She’d learned that it only mattered that she loved and accepted herself. So why was she hoping against hope that Matthew would change his feelings?

  Don’t do this to yourself, Mia. Don’t go there. Don’t want something you’ll never have.

  But she did want. She wanted very much.

  As the tears flowed down her face, Mia stepped into the shower and let the hot spray wash away the taste and feel of Matthew Gray on her body.

  Let go of what you can’t have, Mia. Don’t grieve for what was never yours to begin with.

  But hadn’t it been hers last night? For just a little while?

  No. That had been sex. That was all it had been to Matthew. Sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

  The tears stopped, and anger began edging its way inside her. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she was ready to stand on her own again.

  Mia stared hard at herself in the mirror. I’d bet anything you’d look great as a brunette ...

  Yeah. Right. Even the sexy blond look couldn’t keep Matthew around the morning after.

  She forced away that line of thinking. She had to remember that a man’s interest had nothing to do with how dolled up a woman got, but how much he actually liked her, loved her.

  And Matthew Gray did not love her.

  Because if he did, he’d be here.

  So what do you have to do? she wondered. What does it take? And why does it keep eluding me?

  Get yourself dressed and go out and help bring your sister back home, Mia told herself. Stop moping around this empty apartment, waiting for someone else to make decisions for you.

  Five minutes later, Mia was dressed and out the door. If Matthew came back and didn’t like it that she was gone, well, that was just too damned bad.

  At nine in the morning, the air was sticky and warm as usual. Mia slipped her thin cardigan off her shoulders and tied it around her waist.

  She had no idea where to go, what to do.

  “Hello, Mia.”

  She turned to her left to find herself staring into the cold, beady eyes of Norman Newman.

  “I hoped I’d run into you,” he said. “Alone.”

  A knot of fear formed in Mia’s stomach. Had he been hanging around since she saw him last, waiting for her? “Oh, gosh, is it nine o’clock already?” she asked, making a show of glancing at her watch. “I’m running late, Norman. Can we talk another time?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m sure you have time for a cup of coffee, Mia.”

  She darted her gaze up and down the block, hoping that Matthew would magically appear. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  Nor was a police officer.

  “I’d really like to discuss what happened the other night,” Norman said. “Our little misunderstanding in the bar. I was quite embarrassed.”

  Mia had no idea what to say. Was she talking to a complete psychopath? Or was he simply the annoying and creepy Norman Newman she’d always known from Baywater Middle School?
Would he hurt her?

  Had he hurt four men—fatally?

  “Mia? I’m just asking for a half hour of your time to discuss the other night. After all the time we’ve known each other, is that really too much to ask?”

  Mia forced the semblance of a smile. A half-hour cup of coffee would allow her to slyly interrogate him about his whereabouts on the nights of the murders. As long as they were in a public place, whether a street or a coffee lounge, she’d be safe.

  “Okay, Norman,” she said, “a cup of coffee sounds nice.”

  His face lit up in surprised delight. “Wonderful.”

  “How about right across the street,” she said, gesturing at the coffee lounge where she and Matthew had met for the first time.

  “Oh, no, Mia,” Norman said. “That place won’t do at all. Their coffee is terrible.”

  Mia felt the color drain from her cheeks. “I like it fine,” she said. “And besides, it’s right here.”

  “I know a much better place,” Norman said, staring at her. “It’s quite close by. Just a few blocks from here.”

  Against her better judgment, Mia nodded and let Norman Newman take her arm and lead her away.

  Matthew wondered what Mia was doing right then. Pacing the apartment? Cursing him out? Crying?

  Maybe you’re giving yourself way too much credit, he told himself. Maybe she’s glad you were gone when she woke up. Maybe she regrets last night, too.

  From the way she’d responded to him, though, he found that hard to believe. Her passion had come from her heart, her soul. And that had been the problem. He’d never experienced that kind of want from a woman. Last night, it had translated into the most passionate sex he’d ever had.

  But this morning, it had unnerved him.

  He’d woken up to find her nestled right beside him, her arm across his chest, her expression so sweet, so trusting.

  And he’d had to get out of there.

  Dammit, he’d told her last night when she’d been in the bathtub that he wasn’t interested in commitment. If she couldn’t deal with that, she shouldn’t have let last night happen.

  So maybe she could deal with it. Maybe she wanted what he wanted.

  What did he want?

  No ties. No commitments.

  Gwen Harriman’s beautiful face floated into his mind. Twenty-two, with sweet blue eyes and baby blond hair, she’d come across as the picture of innocence. And she’d played the role of love-struck secretary to the hilt.

  But she’d been a spy for his competition, the girlfriend of his competition, and in the end, she’d stolen documents that could have bankrupted him had he not acted quickly and ruthlessly in return.

  She’d shocked him, something he didn’t think anyone could do after what he’d gone through that terrible night with his mother and the gun.

  Betrayal, in the worst way.

  He’d let her get inside when he’d vowed no woman would ever do that, and he’d been screwed royally.

  He was not going to allow that to happen again.

  Not when for all he knew, Mia Anderson was playing some kind of sick game with her twin sister. Or perhaps she was simply just using him to clear her sister’s name.

  How the hell did he know if she’d disappear the moment she had what she wanted?

  So what did she want? She wanted her sister’s name cleared. She wanted her sister home. And if Norman Newman was the person they were after, she wanted her guilt assuaged with justice.

  You’re reaching, he knew. You’ll do anything to justify walking away this morning. Walking away from any sort of involvement other than professional.

  Matthew took a deep breath. All around him, couples walked along the promenade on their way to work, holding hands, holding briefcases, holding dog leashes.

  That’ll never be me, he reminded himself. I will never allow myself to be stupid again. Never allow myself to become my father.

  And the way to ensure that was to avoid getting tangled up with Mia Anderson.

  He got up and stretched, his limbs achy from staying in one position for two hours. It was time to go back to Margot’s and deal with Mia.

  With every step, Mia felt more and more uncomfortable. For someone who wanted to talk to her, Norman was being awfully silent. In fact, he hadn’t said one word since they began walking ten minutes ago.

  Ten minutes of utter silence, save their heels clicking on the sidewalk, was very unnerving, especially because they’d entered Center City’s industrial area. A bit too desolate for Mia’s comfort with a lot of construction sites, the north part of town wasn’t an area she’d ever frequented.

  “Norman, I thought you said this coffee lounge was a few blocks from where we were,” Mia said.

  “I meant a few avenues,” Norman responded, his beady blue eyes raking over her for just a moment. “Ah, here we are.”

  Mia glanced up at the Center City North Motel. A neon sign in the window advertised an all-night coffee shop. This wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.

  “Is this a favorite coffee shop?” she asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

  “They have the best coffee in Center City. You wouldn’t know it from looking at the place ...”

  Mia stared at the run-down brick building. They would be entering a public place that surely had plenty of staff and at least a few patrons. She would be fine.

  You want to rule out Norman Newman as a suspect, here’s your chance, she reminded herself.

  She forced a smile, and Norman smiled back.

  She felt his hand at her waist as they entered the motel, and she tried not to flinch.

  The small motel was clean, if shabby. The only person in the lobby was a clerk, a middle-aged woman behind a short counter. She sat reading a paperback novel and popping chocolates from a box into her mouth. She didn’t look up when they entered.

  “The coffee shop is this way,” Norman said, leading her to a narrow hallway.

  Mia smiled tightly, hoping her expression didn’t betray her. At the far end of the hallway, she saw a peeling sign: Restaurant.

  Halfway down the hall, Norman stopped short. Mia practically bumped into his back. “Oh, darn. I just realized I left my wallet in my room,” he said. “It’s right here, one-oh-four.”

  Mia felt sick. “Um, why don’t I meet you in the—”

  Norman had his key out and the door to his room opened before Mia could finish her sentence.

  And before she could scream, he took her arm and pulled her inside.

  Where the hell was Mia?

  Matthew paced Margot’s apartment, then tore through the rooms for the second time looking for a note, looking for anything that might indicate where she’d gone. Dammit! Hadn’t he gotten through to her how dangerous it was for her to walk around Center City alone?

  “Where are you, Mia?” he shouted in the empty apartment. Where would she go? he wondered.

  He hoped she didn’t feel she had something to prove. That ridiculous plan of hers—using herself as bait, pretending to be Margot to catch the killer—that was the plan of a woman who felt she had something to prove. It was beyond dangerous, crazy.

  Was she out there setting herself up as bait to lure Norman Newman into talking? Into confessing?

  No, she wouldn’t be crazy enough to attempt that alone. Would she?

  If she felt alone, she might, he answered himself.

  He tore out of the apartment.

  Norman stood in front of the door, his arms crossed. “I don’t bite, for heaven’s sake,” he said, his expression suddenly turning ... romantic.

  Mia felt sick to her stomach. She was trapped with him in his motel room, and no one knew where she was. Bile rose in her throat. “Norman, I ... I would prefer we talked in the coffee shop. I’m quite thirsty and a bit hungry. I could really go for an order of French toast with maple syrup.” She’d tried to inject a lighthearted tone into her voice, but she knew she sounded unnatural. “Doesn’t that sound good to you?�
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  “What sounds good to me, Mia,” he began, his gaze moving from her eyes to her breasts and lingering there before traveling back up again, “is a little private time with you. I’ve been unable to accomplish that all year. And now here you are.” Suddenly, a bulge formed behind the zipper of his tan slacks.

  Stay calm, stay calm, she ordered herself. Just stay calm and think, girl! “The coffee shop probably isn’t very crowded, Norman,” she said, forcing a tight smile. “Why don’t we head over. Boy, could I go for a strong cup of coffee.”

  “I have coffee here,” he said, his gaze roving over her breasts again.

  Mia crossed her arms over her chest, grateful that she’d brought over some clothes yesterday from her own apartment. She wore a pale blue T-shirt and jeans, neither tight. Had she been wearing an outfit of Margot’s, she would have felt even more uncomfortable than she already did.

  “The motel provides individual serving sizes of decaf and regular, plus nondairy creamer and sugar. Little plastic cups, too,” he added with a smile.

  Think, Mia. Think. Calm down and think.

  She dropped her arms to her sides to appear less nervous. “Um, Norman, some regular coffee with cream and sugar sounds wonderful. Why don’t you go make us a cup each while I freshen up in the bathroom. That walk over in this humidity left me a bit sticky.”

  Smile, Mia, she told herself. Offer him a smile.

  He stared into her eyes, and she forced a warm smile. His gaze moved back down to her breasts and stayed there. “All right, Mia. You are looking a bit flushed from the heat. “It’s that door to the left.”

  Mia glanced at the open door. She could see a window. Thank God! she thought, hope soaring. Oh, thank God. “I’ll be just a minute or two,” she said, turning to give him a smile.

  “And I’ll have your coffee waiting,” he said, licking his lips. “Go ahead in. I like to watch you walk. You have quite a sexy sway, if you don’t think me too bold in saying so.”