by Rebecca York
In the cool, dimly lit interior, both she and Alex ordered cappuccino from the man behind the counter. She knew his name. Blake Richmond. She’d gone to St. Catherine’s High School with him. He hadn’t been a good friend. But they knew each other, and he gave her a smile and a nod as she ordered.
After the coffee arrived, she found Alex eyeing the display of muffins.
“How about a couple of those?” he asked.
“I don’t usually indulge in sweets for breakfast.”
“You’re entitled to a treat.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she murmured.
“What’s your pleasure?”
Pleasure. The way he said it was warm and carnal. No, that was just her own reaction to his voice. “Um…cranberry nut,” she managed to say, hoping she didn’t sound too breathy.
“What about if we get an apricot, too, and split them.”
If she’d been with any other man, the offer would have sounded tempting. Coming from Alex, it sounded much too intimate. But she decided it was easier not to protest, particularly since Blake was watching them with interest. That was one thing about a small town: People were nosy.
Like her, she silently conceded. She’d always been curious about what had happened to Alex Shane. Now that she had a chance to find out, there was no harm in indulging that curiosity, she told herself firmly.
She picked a table by the window, as far from the counter as she could get. Seated across from her, Alex used a plastic knife to carefully split the muffins down the middle, then put two halves on each of their paper plates.
Picking up the apricot, he took a healthy bite.
Sara eyed the fruit-studded confections, then decided that letting the food go to waste was foolish.
After taking a bite of the cranberry muffin and a sip of coffee, she raised her eyes to his and casually asked, “So what’s the respectable job that keeps you off the docks?”
He took another bite of his own muffin, chewed and swallowed, and she wondered if he was stalling for some reason.
Finally he answered, “I work for a company that does various types of security work.”
“Like installing alarm systems?” Sara probed.
He shifted in his seat. “We do some of that. Plus evaluations. And we take investigative cases.”
“In St. Stephens? You mean, like evidence for a divorce? Stuff like that?”
“I can’t really be more specific. Client confidentiality.”
She nodded, mulling that over.
“You don’t look like you approve.”
She tried to smooth out her features. “That would make a good cover if you didn’t want people to know what you were really doing.”
He laughed. “Yeah. I guess it would.”
She didn’t join him in the laugh. After several seconds, he set down his mug. “So what kind of papers do you pick up and deliver early in the morning?”
“I’m an accountant. I keep financial records for various clients.”
“Like who?”
“Oh, that’s confidential,” she answered, dredging up a laugh of her own. The laugh died and her mouth went dry as she caught a flicker of movement in the street outside the window.
“It’s him,” she gasped.
Chapter Three
Sara saw Alex swivel around to follow her gaze and zero in on the green truck driving down the street, now at a moderate pace. He was out of his seat before she could take a breath. And out the door before she could blink. She pushed back her own chair and stood up, leaning toward the window as she watched the chase.
Unfortunately, the driver of the pickup must have been alert for trouble, because she saw him step on the gas when Alex hit the sidewalk. Alex ran down the block after the vehicle, and she had to concede that the man was definitely a runner. His stride was long, his form graceful. But even an Olympic champion couldn’t keep up with an internal combustion engine. She saw the truck put on a burst of speed, laying down a cloud of exhaust fumes as it disappeared.
When Alex came running back down the sidewalk, his hands were clenched at his sides.
His first word when he reached their table was a curse. Then an apology. “Sorry.”
“I think you gave it your best shot,” she murmured, her chest tight.
He settled back into his seat, breathing a little hard but not puffing the way she would have been after a chase like that. Well, not quite like that. In her high-heel shoes, she wouldn’t have gotten half a block.
“The license plate was smeared with mud. But some of it had flaked off. I got part of the number. Maybe I can—” He stopped suddenly.
“Maybe you can what?”
He sighed. “Figure out the ownership from the DMV database.”
She considered that for a moment. “How do you have access to that?”
“Through my company.”
“I thought only police officers could do that.”
“This isn’t a subject that we should be discussing,” he said.
She leaned back in her chair and studied him. “That’s a convenient excuse. What else are you not telling me?”
She had the satisfaction of seeing a quick, evasive look in his eyes. Then he shrugged and asked, “What makes you think I’m not?”
She gave him her own shrug. “Nothing I can put my finger on.”
“Good. Because I want to ask you something. Whose toes have you stepped on lately?”
“Nobody’s.”
“Are you sure?”
“What are you getting at?”
“When I pulled you out of the way of that truck, it looked like it was heading straight for you. I mean deliberately.”
She felt the blood drain out of her face. “No!”
“It’s like he was waiting around the corner for you to step off the curb. As soon as you did, he came barreling onto Main Street.”
“Is that the opinion of a professional security expert?”
“Yes. So you’d better think about who might be out to get you.”
“Nobody!”
“Maybe it’s connected to one of your clients. Who do you work for?”
“I’m certainly not going to tell you. Did you ask me to have a cup of coffee so you could interrogate me, or are you trying to scare me?”
“I’m trying to make sure you take care of yourself.”
“Why should you care?”
“I like you.”
She made a snorting sound. “How could you? You don’t know me.”
The words hung in the air between them. Lord, did he remember? Was he playing the same game as she—pretending they were strangers?
“I make quick judgments about people,” he finally said.
“So do I. And I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t think we connected a little while ago?”
No! She wouldn’t let that be true.
She stood, aware that Blake was watching them from the other side of the room and thinking that half of St. Stephens would know about this conversation by the end of the day. Lowering her voice, she said, “You’re making me uncomfortable. There’s something you’re not telling me, and I don’t like deceit.”
“Oh, don’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forget it.”
“Right. I will.” Turning, she whirled away from him and marched out of the coffee shop, sure that she had made a mistake by not fleeing Alex Shane the moment she’d realized who he was.
As soon as she hit the sidewalk, she started to shake. Somehow she’d controlled herself in his presence, sat there across from him as if her insides weren’t churning. Now that she was alone, she stumbled down the block toward her car. Once she was inside, she ground the engine, then almost turned into the path of a car coming too fast through the business district.
“Get a grip,” she muttered, although some part of her silently acknowledged that she had a right to be shaken. Two bad things had happened this morning: Someone
had almost run her over, then a man she’d never expected to see again had held her in his arms, and she’d reacted to him the way she had all those years ago. Back then she’d known he was dangerous. Maybe he was even more dangerous now.
Luckily, her house was close to the historic downtown district, because she wasn’t sure how far she could have driven in her present condition. She unlocked the back door, sprinted through the kitchen and collapsed into one of the overstuffed chairs that she’d bought at an auction a few years ago.
Alex Shane!
Part of her had been relieved when she’d heard he’d left the area. Because there was no place in her life for the wanton, out-of-control girl she’d been that night at the State Park.
A group of her friends had heard about where the interesting kids from St. Stephens High hung out. Had heard about their fun parties. She’d been nervous about going along, but she hadn’t wanted to look like a chicken so she’d agreed. Besides, she hated the way Mom and Dad were always on her, restricting her, making sure she was a good little girl. That was why they’d sent her to Catholic school, when she wasn’t even Catholic.
At first she’d stuck close to her friends. But after a few beers, she was feeling braver. And when she saw this drop-dead gorgeous guy eyeing her, she’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
They were in a public park, she reasoned. Nothing major could happen. And when her friends started urging her to go on up and talk to him, she boldly sauntered across the clearing that separated them.
His eyes swept up and down her body in a way that sent tingles of fear and arousal over her skin. “What’s a sheltered little girl like you doing here?” he asked.
“I came to meet you,” she answered brashly. “What’s your name?”
“Alex. How about you?”
“Sara.”
There was some back-and-forth conversation—witty on his part, with her working hard to keep up. He moved closer, draped his arm around her shoulder, his fingers playing with her upper arm, sending currents of sensation through her.
She’d made out with boys before. Clumsy boys whose kisses were a whole lot less potent than the light touch of Alex’s fingers on her arm.
Then he murmured, “I like you a lot… You want to go somewhere private with me so we can get to know each other better?”
Her brain was still functioning enough for her to feel a little zing of alarm. “I can’t go off with you. I’ve got to stay here with my friends.”
“Well, we don’t have to go very far. We can just sit in the back seat of my car.”
“I—”
“Come on. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise.”
Somewhere in her mind she knew that she shouldn’t trust him, but he made everything seem all right. With his words and his gestures and the warm look in his eyes.
She gave him a little nod, let him link his fingers with hers and lead her to one of the cars parked in the darkness under the pine trees.
It started slowly, with light kisses, the gentle stroking of his hands through her hair, across her back.
It scared her when he cupped her breasts. Scared her because it felt too good. She prided herself on keeping control with boys. But she’d never felt this way before. Like her skin was suddenly too tight. Like intimate parts of her were hot and tingling and begging for his touch.
He didn’t push her. He backed off when she insisted he stop, soothed her with little kisses and reassuring words so that she didn’t do the smart thing and get out of the car.
Instead, she let him touch her again in that thrilling, arousing way of his. She felt her breasts aching for his touch, felt her nipples contract to tight points, heard her own breath coming fast and urgent.
She didn’t stop him this time when he went even further—slipping his hand under her T-shirt, unhooking her bra. And when he brought his hands around to cup her breasts, stroke his thumbs over the tight crests, she moaned into his mouth.
Rolling up her shirt, he found one distended nipple with his mouth, circled it with his tongue, then sucked on it, sending a bolt of sensation surging downward through her body.
He kept up the delicious torture, increasing her pleasure as he took the other nipple between his thumb and finger, squeezing and tugging and twisting, so that there was no room in her brain for thoughts—only needs and sensations she had never imagined before.
She had forgotten where she was. Forgotten her friends. Forgotten everything but Alex and what he was doing to her. And when he lifted her onto his lap and pressed the hot, aching part of her against himself, she was helpless to do anything besides rock against him and seek more of the wonderful torture he was inflicting on her.
A distant jangling sound pulled her out of the memory. It took several seconds for her to figure out that the phone was ringing.
She stood quickly, swaying on her feet, then dashed across the room and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
There was no answer.
“Hello?”
She could hear breathing on the other end of the line, feel a prickle of apprehension at the back of her neck.
“Who’s there?”
The connection snapped off and she was left listening to static. Slowly she replaced the phone in its cradle, then she went down the hall to her office and looked at the caller ID. It said “Pay Phone.”
Great. No help.
Probably a wrong number, she told herself, although if that were true, why had the person on the other end of the line hung on so long?
Uneasy, her mind backed away from the phone call, and landed back on the previous topic.
She’d been deep into memories of Alex Shane. She hadn’t known his last name when she’d been in the car with him, but one of her friends had told her on the way home.
She’d been angry with him for tempting her so far and angry with herself for letting it happen. Making out had never gotten to her the way it had gotten to her with Alex. She’d always been slightly detached, always slightly amused at the way guys got hot and bothered. And she’d always stopped them before they ever went too far. With Alex, she’d been completely caught up in the experience. He’d been the one in control.
She shivered. What if he had progressed to taking off her shorts? Would she have had the presence of mind to stop him, or would she have let him have intercourse with her?
Probably. Because she’d been too naive to fully understand what was happening. But he’d let her off easy. She’d been thankful, and at the same time angry. Angry with herself and angry with him for being so good at pleasing a woman. If she’d come away from the experience with anything, it was the determination never to let it happen again.
It had been a long time before she’d let herself get into a similar situation. She laughed. Not similar, exactly. Nothing she’d experienced had ever been similar. She’d never again let herself be pushed into anything she couldn’t handle.
Over the years, she’d learned how to enjoy herself, but she hadn’t allowed herself to lose perspective. Hadn’t let herself slip into that wild, abandoned place where she was totally vulnerable.
She’d been too wary for that. She was still too wary, and she didn’t like coming face-to-face with the man who had been so instrumental in shaping her behavior.
Probably she should thank him, she thought with a little snort. He’d helped her focus her life, understand the importance of staying in control.
Which she was now, she told herself. She wasn’t going to let Alex Shane change that. She wasn’t going to let herself get spooked by the wrong number or the incident with the truck, or any of the other things that had happened lately. Things she didn’t want to think about too much.
She was going to get to work on the papers Lee Tillman had asked her to pick up.
ALEX SAT in front of his dark computer, restless and angry with himself.
He’d screwed things up with Sara Delaney. She was a suspect, and it didn’t matter
whether he remembered hot sex with her or not. He should never have gotten himself into a situation where he had to answer questions that were inconvenient.
But his lack of finesse with Sara was only a secondary problem. His primary concern was the disappearance of Lee Tillman. Maybe talking to the chief of police wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
He’d seen Clark Hempstead around town, and the man hadn’t changed much. In his mind, he pictured the police chief sitting behind his battered metal desk, his chair tipped back at a dangerous angle, his belly protruding above a pair of blue uniform pants worn comfortably low. Strands of dark hair would be combed across his balding skull. His metal-framed glasses, which he’d had for so long that they were coming back into style, would be slid halfway down his nose. And there might be a bit of sugar from a doughnut on his upper lip.
Eleven years ago, Alex had hated the man’s guts. Now he understood that Hempstead was good for St. Stephens.
Like Alex, the chief had left the Eastern Shore to attend school at the University of Maryland, College Park. Only Hempstead had come back right after graduation to serve the people of his community.
Once, Alex had sneered at the man’s small-town values. Now he understood him better. Understood that he had dedicated himself to the community where he’d grown up, which was more than Alex could say for himself.
The sergeant who answered the phone put him through right away.
“Hempstead speaking,” the eerily familiar voice said.
“This is Alex Shane.”
“Heard you were in town.”
“Yes. I’m on an assignment for Randolph Security,” he answered, feeling as if he had to establish his legitimacy right away.
“They’re a well-respected outfit. But weren’t you with the Howard County P.D. before you joined Randolph?”
“News gets around.”
“You’re one of St. Stephens’ success stories.”
Alex shifted in his seat, glad that the chief couldn’t see his face. “A living legend, hmm?” he muttered.
“You turned yourself around real well, son. From juvie to cop. That’s notable.”
“Well, you put the fear of God into me,” Alex heard himself saying.