SUSPICION'S GATE

by Justine Davis

  "Anyway, Bill told me that if I stuck it out and got my A.A. degree, he'd make me a foreman. I didn't believe him, but I didn't know what else to do. So I stuck."

  Because you didn't have anywhere else to go, she thought with a pang. "Why didn't you believe him?"

  "I didn't believe anybody, then."

  It stabbed at her again, the pain of realizing what he'd gone through. What had once seemed too little punishment for what he'd done now seemed grim and harsh.

  "Did he … keep his promise?"

  "Yes. And four years later, after he had a heart attack and had to slow down, he offered me a partnership. I told him I couldn't afford it, but he let me pay it off in installments." His mouth twisted wryly. "As long as I went back to school again, for my bachelor's degree. The Schultz boys had a thing about school."

  "I'm glad," she said softly.

  "That they made me go to school?"

  "That there were some good people in your life."

  His expression softened as he nodded. "They are good people."

  "Do you still have any contact with them?"

  He grinned. "Can't avoid it. Bill's my field consultant. He got tired of being retired. And Larry's a counselor at the summer camp we built in the mountains up near Hemet."

  Friendship, she thought. His kind of friendship. His kind of honor, and debts paid. No wonder he laughed at Richard's idea of it.

  "Anyway, when Bill was ready to retire, I bought him out." He grinned suddenly. "Cash, this time. We were doing okay. That was six years ago." He looked out over the ocean once more. "And the rest, as they say, is history."

  "Except you changed the name."

  He went very still, then shifted his gaze from the rolling surf to her face. "Yes."

  "Why? Why that name?"

  "I think you know."

  She gave a shivery little sigh. "When I first saw the name, I wondered … if maybe it meant something special to somebody, like it did to me. Then I figured it was just something silly, like there'd been a willow in front of their office building, or something." He was watching her too intently, and she looked out to sea. "I keep thinking I should have known."

  "Even your radar's not that good, little one. I told you I kept a low profile. And when I knew you were making a bid, I made a point of keeping my name out of everything. Chuck handled it all."

  A long moment of silence stretched out before she said, "Travis?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Would you have … told me? If I hadn't figured it out?"

  He sighed. "Yes. I almost did, that day in your office, when you told me why you wanted to deal with Willow Tree."

  She looked back at him then. "Why then?"

  "Because it… When you said those things, it was like you were telling me you were … proud of what I was doing."

  The words were so broken, so hesitant, that her voice was barely a whisper for fear he'd stop talking altogether.

  "Why didn't you tell me then?"

  "I still didn't want you to know."

  "Is that all?"

  He let out a long, compressed breath. "I guess I didn't want to admit how much I needed you to be proud of me." He rubbed at his leg again, as if it were aching. "Hell, I almost told you that first day when you were—"

  He broke off suddenly, looking away from her.

  "When I was being a superior bitch?" she supplied gently.

  "You were hurting." His voice was soft, husky. "I had no right to jump you like that. Not then."

  "But you were right." She gave a mirthless little laugh. "Lord, were you right."

  She fell silent, and he didn't speak as he tried to work the soreness out of his leg. At last, she asked quietly, "It was you who awarded us the marina contract, wasn't it?"

  He stopped, his hands frozen just above his knee. "I made the final decision, yes."

  "Because you knew we were hurting, financially."

  "Nicole—"

  "I don't want it, Travis. Not like that."

  "That contract," he said dryly, "is not going to help. You won't be making much on it."

  "But you know what landing a Willow Tree contract can do for a company. You can't deny its prestige, and that it can give us an edge in the future, even with other companies."

  "It's nice to know we can dress up your résumé."

  "I don't want it," she repeated stubbornly. "Not if you only did it to—"

  "Hey," he said, cutting her off, "what happened to the Miss Lockwood who used to climb on her soapbox and lecture me on the quality of Lockwood concrete?"

  "She doesn't have a whole lot of faith in her own judgment, at the moment," Nicki said ruefully.

  He reached for her then, only now reasonably certain she wouldn't push him away. He hauled her up onto his lap and held her close.

  "I'm sorry, Nicole. Maybe I should have told you from the start. But you… I thought you hated me, and I felt like … like a dog who's been kicked but keeps trying to please. I just couldn't do it. It was too much like begging you to be proud of me. And I'll never beg for anything again in my life."

  "You don't have to," she whispered, putting her arms around his neck, "I am proud of you, if it matters to you."

  "It matters," he whispered, burying his face in the gentle curve of her neck and shoulder. "God, it matters so much."

  "And I was proud of you before I knew any of this, even though I didn't want to be." She pressed a soft kiss on his hair. "I was proud of the man you've become, before I even realized that's what I was feeling. I'm just sorry it took what you did yesterday to make me recognize it."

  "I didn't—" He stopped the denial that he'd done anything special when she put a finger to his lips, and then lowered his head in acceptance. "Okay, okay."

  She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. "It's going to take me a while to get used to this." She added humbly. "I'm sorry, Travis. I was being a superior bitch."

  He hugged her. "No. You didn't know. And you were in pain. Striking back, like anyone would do."

  "That's no ex—"

  "Shh," he said. "You're sorry for that, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. We're even, okay?" Then, looking up at her he added, "I'm proud of you, too, Nicole. You've turned out as smart and strong and beautiful as I knew you would."

  "I'm not sure about the smart part right now," she said, her mouth twisting wryly, "but I thank you for the rest."

  "You're welcome. Nicole?"

  "What?"

  "Could you quit moving like that?"

  "Like what?"

  His hands went to her hips and shifted her slightly, moving the trim curve of her buttocks across his lap, and she realized she had been doing just that, unconsciously.

  "Like that," he said. "You're driving me crazy."

  "Okay," she said blithely. Then, with a sinuous twist of her body and a quick, graceful movement of her leg, she had straddled him.

  "Oh, that helps," he grated out as she rubbed against his quickly responding flesh. "Especially knowing you probably haven't got a damned thing on under that robe."

  She lifted one slender hand from where it had come to rest on his shoulder, and held the front of the robe away from her. She looked down the gap, making a mock inspection of her body.

  "Nope," she confirmed cheerfully, "hot a thing."

  He groaned, closing his eyes but unable to stop the instinctive arching of his body up to hers.

  "So tell me," she said, her conversational tone belied by the sensuous caress of her hands over his naked chest, and her hips against his, "is there anything between you and your Levi's?"

  His eyes snapped open. Slowly, one corner of his mouth lifted into that grin. "Nope. Not a thing."

  Heat flared in her clear blue eyes, darkening them to sapphire. She leaned forward and planted a long, hot, wet kiss in the center of his chest. His back arched, his hands gripping her hips tightly, grinding her against him.

  "Does this mean you're not mad anymore?"

  She didn't answe
r, just trailed her mouth down over his belly to circle his navel with her tongue. The taut abdominal muscles rippled beneath her, and he groaned deep in his throat. When she reached down and unsnapped his jeans and began to tug at the zipper, the groan became a warning.

  "Nicole…"

  "Shh. I'm deciding whether I'm still mad or not."

  "You're driving me up the wall is what you're— God!"

  She'd slipped her hand beneath the denim and found him, her fingers circling and caressing in the way she'd learned so quickly and so well last night. He couldn't stop his body from bowing upward against her hand, seeking that touch that fired his blood.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought for control. He pulled her up his body, away from the surging flesh that threatened to erupt under her sweet ministrations, but all she did was drape herself atop him, and it wasn't much better.

  He put his hands to her shoulders and lifted her up. It was a bad idea; the front of the robe gaped open, exposing the firm, full curves of her breasts to his avid eyes. Her pink nipples, already taut at the tips, drew up into hard, hungry peaks under his gaze.

  With a movement so swift he hardly realized he'd done it, he parted the front of the robe and pulled her down to him, crushing her bare breasts against his chest. She gave a little gasp of shocked pleasure, then began to move against him, twisting sinuously until her nipples were two points of fire searing them both.

  "Oh, Travis…"

  "What?" His voice was thick, heavy.

  "I want…"

  "Anything. Everything. What do you want, love?"

  She lifted her head, her eyes dark, her lashes half-lowered with growing passion. "I want to hear you call me Nicki again."

  One dark brow lowered. "Did I?"

  "You did. Right when you…" She trailed off, reddening.

  The brow lifted. "I did, didn't I?"

  "It's never sounded like that before. So sweet. So special."

  "Ah, Nicole, you're what's sweet. All of you. And I want to taste every bit of that sweetness. From here—" he pulled her head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead "—and to here—" his toes brushed hers "—and every sweet inch in between."

  Her cheeks were flaming but her eyes were hot when he gripped her shoulders and lifted her up once more. Although the open robe hid her from the sides, she was bare to his gaze, her breasts swaying, her nipples barely brushing his chest.

  With a throttled groan he lifted his head, seizing one of the tempting peaks with his mouth. He sucked fiercely, and the sudden shock of heat and pleasure made her cry out, arching her back to give him more, begging him to take it.

  The racing motor of a car out on the street brought him out of the haze of pleasure and back to the reality of where they were. Reluctantly, he released that sweet nub of flesh and lifted his head.

  "Have you made up your mind you're not mad anymore?"

  "I think you almost have me convinced," she said breathlessly.

  "I think," he growled, "I'd better do the rest of my convincing inside."

  He carried her in and back to the bedroom. And if he missed a spot in making good on his promise to taste every inch of her, Nicki didn't notice.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  "You're sure you don't want to pick up your car first?"

  Nicki shook her head. "I'll get it later. I need to get to the plant. There were a million things I was supposed to do today."

  "The day's not over yet," Travis teased. "It's not even noon."

  "By three minutes," she returned dryly.

  "Are you saying you would rather have been at work?"

  She looked over at him as he lounged behind the wheel of the sleek Mercedes. She saw the glint in his eyes, and knew he was remembering the way they had spent this morning. So was she, and her body tingled with the memories.

  "No," she said honestly, "I can't think of anything I'd rather have been doing."

  That satisfied, male smile curved his mouth, but Nicki didn't mind. He'd earned it, showing her that what she'd experienced last night was only the beginning. Besides, she thought with a slightly smug, feminine smile of her own, she'd done some satisfying herself; she had the memory of his thrashing body and his hoarse cries of pleasure to prove it.

  "Damn."

  "What?" she asked, startled by the sudden exclamation. "You look like a cat who's found out where the catnip is stored."

  "I have," she agreed, and gave a throaty little purr that had him laughing and groaning at the same time. "And I find I like it very much. It's very … tasty."

  The groan won out over the laugh this time, and she could see him remembering the long, leisurely moments when she had set about tasting him as he had her. His hands were tight on the wheel as he made the last turn and headed toward the plant.

  "Can we change the subject?"

  "Something wrong with catnip?" she asked innocently.

  "It's making my jeans too tight," he growled.

  "Strange effect," she said in mock surprise, laughing when he made a sour face at her. "Speaking of jeans— Oh, stop," she said at his warning look, "I just wanted to thank you again for the shirt."

  "You're welcome."

  When they'd found her blouse damp, stained, and impossibly wrinkled on the floor of the bathroom, he'd loaned her a T-shirt. It was pale blue and fashionably huge on her, and she'd pulled up one side at an angle and tied it in a knot so that it wouldn't flap around her knees. It was obviously a man's, and it was probably written all over her face that it was his, but Nicki didn't mind. In fact, it gave her a sense of pleasure new to her, just as wearing his robe had done.

  He turned the car into the yard, pulled up next to the office in his usual place and stopped. Then he glanced over at her, and grinned. "It looks a lot better on you."

  "Good. Because it looks awfully good off you. I might have to borrow all your shirts."

  "Feel free," he said, his voice low and alive with that husky note that she'd come to associate with that frisson of heat that rippled the muscles of her stomach.

  "I do feel free," she whispered. "For the first time in so long…"

  He leaned across the console toward her; she met him halfway and kissed him hungrily, forgetting, for the moment, where they were. And then she decided she didn't care where they were, or who saw them. Except that when she got out of the car, she felt a crawling sensation at the back of her neck, and turned to see Carl Weller watching them from the window of Richard's office.

  Richard would have found out anyway, she told herself for the hundredth time when, long after dark, she finished the minimum of work she'd set for herself. In fact, she was a little surprised he hadn't come bursting into her office with a vintage Richard tantrum.

  The thought of explaining to her brother bothered her, and she had no idea how she was going to do it. Not that it mattered. Richard would never understand. But he would have to learn to live with it, she thought. Because she loved Travis Halloran. And he—

  She came to a sudden halt, her fingers tightening on the pen she'd just used to sign a formal letter of apology to Sam Shelby. He did love her, didn't he?

  Slowly, like a person sifting through the ashes of a burnt-out home for some surviving precious possession, she picked over the memories of the last twenty-four hours. And nowhere could she find a moment when he'd said the words.

  But he'd shown her, hadn't he? With every touch, every kiss, every time he'd joined them in the most intimate way possible? Of course he had, she told herself. Stop doubting him. You made your decision yesterday, you're not going to start having second thoughts now. It was too late for that. Much, much too late.

  This time when the phone rang, Nicki was already awake. Awake and laying a path of hot, wet kisses over Travis's belly and heading for points south. When the bell clamored, he groaned in protest.

  "Ignore it."

  Nicki lifted her head and looked at the offending instrument. "If you think it won't sto
p, it will. If you think it will, it won't. Ma Bell's Law of Opposing Rings."

  "Damn."

  He groped for the receiver. And Nicki went back to what she'd been doing. "Chuck, it's 5:00 a.m."

  He lifted one shoulder to her mouth as Nicki nibbled across it.

  "Who else would call me at this hour?"

  He shifted as Nicki traced his collarbone with her tongue.

  "Oh. You heard about that, huh? I didn't realize it hit the news. No, I'm fine. My head's harder than a few tons of rock, anyway. You know that."

  He let his head loll back as she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, where his pulse was beginning to race.

  "They said that? Well, yes, there were some weird things going on. I'll tell you when I see you."

  Her mouth trailed along his breastbone between the muscled swells of his chest.

  "Not much longer. Things kind of … broke loose last night."

  Her head moved again, and her tongue found and flicked over one flat, male nipple. He sucked in a quick, audible breath.

  "No, nothing's … wrong. Things worked out—" he took in another breath "—better than I ever hoped."

  The other nipple received the same tender treatment. Travis tried to control a shudder as he reached for her, meaning to hold her still for a moment until he could get Chuck off the phone, but instead found himself pressing her head to his chest, encouraging that hot, circling caress of his puckering flesh.

  "I know I … didn't get those contracts … back to you. I was … kind of busy."

  She had started down over his belly again, leaving a blazing trail beneath her soft lips. His muscles rippled in response.

  "Chuck, I … can't help how I sound at five in the morning. Look … I promise I'll be in—uh—" he couldn't stop the grunt as she reached his navel "—to sign those contracts by this afternoon, all right?"

  Her tongue, hot and wet and teasing, circled his navel before she began to inch her way downward once more, gently nibbling, tasting. The thought of where she was going to wind up made him gasp in anticipation; Nicki, he'd found to his incredible pleasure, was a very quick learner. And she'd taught him a thing or two in the process.