Closer Than She Thinks

by Meryl Sawyer

  Alyssa called Aunt Thee’s room, but a nurse answered and told her Aunt Thee was sleeping. Her condition had improved and they expected her to be released tomorrow. She hung up, hoping by tomorrow she’d be yesterday’s news and she could bring Aunt Thee home without having to run a gauntlet of reporters.

  Jake left the office early. He wanted to see what the fax from Overton and Overton revealed. He’d arranged to have Sanchez meet him here instead of the office. He unlocked the front door and expected Benson to greet him. The retriever wasn’t anywhere in sight. A female voice coming from the bathroom was singing “Amazing Grace.”

  Alyssa. Aw, hell. He thought she would have gone home by now. He didn’t want to deal with her. Too much was happening, too fast He didn’t want to believe Troy, his main man, had done this, but there wasn’t any other explanation for the altered report Jake had seen. Disillusionment and a bone-deep sense of betrayal left him tight-lipped, repressing his anger, his hurt.

  Worse, he didn’t want to find out Max had been behind the scheme. They didn’t have much in common, but Jake had become accustomed to having a father. He wanted to believe Max trusted him to run the company on his own.

  If the emotion Jake was riding had been simple anger, he might have cooled down by now. But it wasn’t. They’d turned on him.

  Would he be forced to go back to Mobile’s docks? Possibly. Would he give a damn? Yes … and no. He’d grown these last few years. Mobile and the sport fishing fleet he still owned seemed like a distant memory, a life that had belonged to someone else. Yet Mobile was a safe harbor. He could go home again, but he’d always ask himself if he’d missed something.

  He put down his briefcase and hung up his raincoat on the hall tree he’d purchased at Aunt Annie’s Antique Shoppe down the street. He shrugged out of his sport coat and removed his tie.

  What was he going to do about Alyssa? Before he could answer his own question, she came out of the bathroom at the far side of the loft.

  Wearing nothing but a towel.

  Like a siren, she called to him, urging him to come closer and be destroyed. Fool that he was, Jake had been prepared to do anything for her.

  “Oh, my God!” she shrieked, jumping to one side. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here, remember?”

  “I know. You frightened me.” She clutched the towel around her. “I wasn’t expecting you to come home so early. I got caught in the rain, so I put my clothes in the dryer and took a hot shower. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “It’s too late if I did.” He knew he sounded like a real prick, but he couldn’t help himself. Just thinking of Alyssa with Clay sent a rush of scalding fury through his body.

  “Is there a robe or something I could put on while my clothes dry?”

  Without a word, he walked into his bedroom and took his robe off the hook inside the large armoire he used as a closet. He walked back into the living area where she was waiting for him. Benson, the traitor, was beside Alyssa, gazing up at her with adoring eyes, tail wagging. He handed her the robe and turned to go into the office area to check the fax.

  She caught his arm. “I need to talk to you.”

  “So talk.”

  She slipped into the robe and belted it without taking off the towel. “Let’s sit down.”

  He sat in the chair to prevent her from sitting beside him on the couch. “I’m in a hurry. I’ve got work to do.”

  She sat on the sofa opposite him, her expression concerned. What did she expect from him?

  “I can tell you’re upset with me. I want to know why.”

  He wanted to blow off this whole situation. He knew better than to get involved with a woman who worked for him. Trying to think of something to say, he gazed at her. He hated liars and refused to demean himself by not telling the truth.

  Still, male pride, or whatever, kept him silent. He did not want to admit he was jealous of Clay Duvall. Doing so would give Alyssa power over him, something he’d never given a woman before now.

  “I don’t like being in the middle of a mess like this,” he said.

  “I know what you mean. I’ve been nothing but trouble. I’m sorry,” she replied, sounding genuinely upset. “You’ve been very understanding. I would never have expected as much from … anyone in your position.”

  He nodded, unsure of what to say.

  “Forgive me for embarrassing you—embarrassing TriTech with my problems.”

  “Embarrassed? I’m not embarrassed. Why would you think I am?”

  “I know this is a difficult time, but you keep distancing yourself from me.” She leaned across the coffee table as if to close the space between them. “Even though I’ve thought we had become close.”

  “Close?” He spit it out as if it were a four-letter word.

  She studied his face intently, her eyes narrowing. “Is this about my being with Clay last night at Check Point Charlie’s?”

  He considered denying it, but knew he’d be pissed with himself if he did. “No. Not exactly,” he hedged. “You claim you can’t stand Clay. You pitched a fit when you found out he was part of TriTech. Yet every chance you get, you’re with him.”

  “No, I’m not! He came by the hospital last night, and I was very upset over the Code Pink. I had this terrible feeling, and I was right. I would be blamed. Something else happened, and I wanted to talk to you in the worst way.”

  “What about?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. You don’t want to get involved. I understand.” She stood up. “I’m sure my clothes are dry by now. I’ll get dressed and go.”

  He watched her walk away. Getting sex had always been a cinch. He never looked beyond the moment. He’d never wanted a lasting relationship until now. Face it, schmuck, she’s got your number.

  A bolt of lightning arced across the sky and flooded the loft with searing blue-white light. Half a second later a crack of thunder like an explosion rattled the windows. He couldn’t let Alyssa go out in this storm. He lunged to his feet and followed her to the laundry room concealed behind screens at the far side of the loft. The dryer was still running, and he thought her clothes weren’t done.

  He stepped around the screen and stopped. Alyssa was standing there stark naked. His heart seized, and he couldn’t draw a breath. Sweet Jesus.

  He’d never seen her without clothes, but he’d imagined it once or twice. Okay, more than once or twice. Too many times to count. His wildest dreams were nothing compared to the real deal.

  Time halted, seconds fractured. Neither of them looked away. In the shadowy darkness her eyes seemed greener than usual. She made no attempt to cover up even though his robe and the towel were on top of the washing machine close by.

  His eyes roved over her body. Not centerfold material but damn close. High full breasts crowned by dusky nipples. A small waist. Slim tapered hips. A triangle of downy golden hair. Long, showgirl legs.

  A jolt of quivery heat spread through his body. Every muscle in his body tightened with primal need. Aw, hell. He was achingly hard.

  Inwardly cursing his own weakness, he reached out and touched her bare shoulder. His fingertips skimmed downward, barely maintaining contact as he traced the soft curve of her breast. The nipple formed a tight bead. He cradled her warm breast in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb across the taut nipple.

  “Jake.”

  Something about the erotic way she whispered his name, so softly he could barely hear it above the rain pummeling the skylight, extinguished what remained of his willpower. He smothered her lips with his. He didn’t want to hear what she might say. He didn’t want to think or rationalize or anything. He intended to lose himself in her. Regrets could come later.

  CHAPTER 21

  Jake grabbed her, his momentum pushing her backward half a foot until she was trapped against the washing machine by his weight, and his lips covered hers, hot, demanding. A sudden, unexpected explosion of warmth streaked through her body and erupted in a rush of desire. Her
instinctive response to him overpowered her better judgment. A few minutes ago he’d been angry and she had been ready to leave. Now she was allowing him to kiss her.

  She should have grabbed the towel and covered herself, but the expression on his face had been so galvanizing. Raw lust smoldered in his eyes. She’d realized immediately this was her opportunity to break through the protective barrier he kept around himself. She’d never resorted to using her sex appeal, but this wasn’t an ordinary situation.

  Had she fallen in love with him? No, surely not. She needed his strength, his friendship, to help her weather this crisis. That’s all.

  His tongue, sleek and agile and swift, mated with hers. Her heart beating lawlessly, she kissed him with shocking passion. The more familiar she became with his body, the more she wanted, the more she sought, moving against him, letting her hands explore his back and shoulders down to the rise of his buttocks. And lower.

  She attempted to shift to one side, but he had her pinned against the cold machine. Heat radiated from his body flowing into hers and triggering a rush of dampness. Her taut nipples tingled where they were flattened against his chest. Her breath left her body in a tortured moan.

  Her arms were around his neck now, her fingers in his thick hair. She wanted to feel every inch of him—especially the bulging erection jutting against her. She was tall for a woman, but he was taller. She had to stand on tiptoes to position his erection where it would feel even better.

  He rhythmically moved his hips, slowly at first, a counterpoint to the stroking motion of his tongue. Picking up the pace, he ground against her, making absolutely clear what was coming next.

  Dimly she noticed another bolt of lightning followed by an ominous crack of thunder, then the staccato beat of what had to be hail pinging against the skylight, but the sounds barely registered. Her body was too focused on feeling the rough texture of his whiskers where they brushed her sensitive skin, the solid strength of his body against hers, the iron heat of his sex.

  He pulled his head back, his breathing ragged. He went rigid, every muscle tense, his face a grimace.

  “Why … are you stopping? Come on.”

  “Listen.”

  Above the noisy thud of her heart, she head the clatter of hail on the skylight and Benson barking. Then the doorbell rang again. She realized she’d heard it the first time, but her brain hadn’t quite comprehended the sound.

  “Someone is at the door. In this storm?”

  “I’m expecting Sanchez.” The words came out from between clenched teeth, and he backed away, moving slowly, stiffly.

  Struggling to control her erratic breathing, she watched him walk out of the laundry area. It took another second for it to dawn on her that the power had gone out. There had been a small light on when she’d come in to check on her clothes.

  She fumbled around until she found the latch on the dryer. Her clothes were dry and very warm. She pulled on her panties and hooked her bra. The dress was probably hopelessly wrinkled, but she didn’t care. She pulled it over her head with unsteady hands. There had been a moment—no more than a breath—when she could have turned away. Then Jake had touched her.

  Cursing under his breath, Jake shifted himself into a more comfortable position, which wasn’t possible. His throbbing sex was a stick of dynamite What in hell had he been thinking?

  His famous remoteness, his self-control, had deserted him in a heartbeat. He’d wanted her with an intensity that blinded him to everything else. When he should be concentrating on his problems at TriTech, he’d been unable to get his mind off Alyssa. Not a good sign.

  “I brought pizza,” Sanchez said when he opened the door. “I thought we could eat while we talk.” He stepped inside, handed Jake the large box of pizza, then shucked his dripping raincoat and hung it on the hall tree next to Jake’s. “What’s the problem?”

  “The lights are out,” answered Jake as if it wasn’t perfectly obvious.

  Benson whipped the air with his tail, thrilled to see Sanchez, and no doubt, smelling the anchovies he adored.

  “It’s just this block. Jo’Mama’s Pizza had electricity. You must have a flashlight.”

  “Sure. Let me get them.” He was positive Sanchez detected the huskiness Jake heard in his own voice. As soon as he saw Alyssa, Sanchez would figure out what was going on.

  He placed two flashlights on the table, casting long tunnels of light in the darkness. Alyssa emerged from the back of the loft, walking slowly toward the light.

  “Hello.” She bent down to pet Benson, who was hovering around her knees.

  “Hope you like pepperoni pizza with cheese and anchovies.” Sanchez acted as if it was perfectly normal to find Alyssa here.

  “Anything’s fine, really.”

  “I’ve got good news,” Sanchez told them as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for Alyssa. “They’ve solved the missing baby crime. The police questioned an LVN. She’d been given ten thousand dollars in cash to take a baby—any baby—and put it in the linen room on your aunt’s floor.”

  “Who gave her the money?” Jake used another flashlight to sort through a drawer for the pizza cutter.

  “She claims she doesn’t know, but it was a man. He contacted her, gave her five thousand up front and another five when she finished.”

  “Don’t they have a description or something?” Alyssa asked, and Jake could hear the relief in her voice.

  “No. It was dark when he approached her in the parking structure the staff uses. He arranged to leave the final payment in the trunk of her car after she’d taken the baby.”

  “She saw him only once?” Jake rolled the cutter through the pizza. It was emitting a mouth-watering aroma that had Benson drooling.

  “That’s right. I’m positive if she knew his identity, she’d trade the information for a lesser charge.”

  “Someone deliberately wanted to get me in trouble.”

  “We figured that out already.” Jake realized he sounded curt, but a man about to get lucky is in a world of hurt when interrupted.

  “I know but this seems so … calculated.”

  “Clay Duvall was at the hospital that night,” Sanchez pointed out. “I did a quick check of his financial accounts. There haven’t been any large withdrawals I could find, but I’ll keep investigating.”

  Jake handed each of them a slice of pizza and tossed an anchovy to Benson before taking drink orders, then sitting down. While he’d been getting the sodas, neither of them had said a word.

  Finally, Alyssa spoke. “I don’t believe Clay is responsible.”

  Aw, hell. What was it going to take before she figured out what kind of man Duvall was?

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. The hail had stopped, and the rain was tapering off, lightly pattering against the skylight now.

  “There is some bad news,” Sanchez said. “Ravelle was on TV at five o’clock. She claims you threatened Phoebe Duvall’s life.”

  “That’s a lie!” Alyssa shook her head and her blond hair caught the back lighting of the flashlights. “I never threatened Phoebe. I went to see her this afternoon, that’s all.”

  “She told you to drop dead?” asked Sanchez.

  “She wasn’t that polite. She kept insisting I was after Clay. That’s what Ravelle overheard.”

  “She managed to twist it.”

  “I should sue.”

  Sanchez helped himself to another slice. “Not a bad idea. Ravelle thrives on tabloid-like sensationalism. Someone should call her on it.”

  It dawned on Jake that something wasn’t right. Sanchez and Alyssa were acting as if visiting Phoebe was perfectly normal. “Why would you go to see Phoebe?”

  Two long beats of silence. “I wanted to talk to her about something.”

  “What?”

  Another tense pause, and he realized Sanchez knew what was going on, but he was waiting for Alyssa to explain.

  “Aunt Thee told me Gordon LeCroix is my real father.”

 
; Jake stared at her slack-jawed, feeling like a Neanderthal morphed into Times Square, clueless. He managed to say, “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish I were.”

  It took him a minute to fully recover. The bitter edge in her voice told him all he needed to know. She’d lived with them all those years, and they’d been shitty to her. One of them had been her own father. It was a wonder she was as well adjusted as she was.

  “You never had any idea?”

  “No, but everyone else knew. That’s what Clay told me when we went for coffee at Check Point Charlie’s. I wanted to talk to you about it, but you weren’t around. I thought Clay could answer some of my questions.”

  “What questions?”

  “I asked if he thought I should talk to Phoebe. He advised me not to, but I couldn’t help myself. We share the same father. We shouldn’t be enemies.”

  He wasn’t sure he followed her logic, considering the way they’d treated her, but women were softhearted about their family. He asked a few more questions and finally understood what had happened and why Aunt Thee hadn’t told her until now.

  He was a jerk. Okay, Jake admitted it was much worse. He was proud to a fault. He’d indulged his jealousy over … nothing. She didn’t care about Clay. He’d almost lost her, lost the chance to be with her because he jumped to the wrong conclusion and was too proud, too stubborn, to ask about it.

  “After we finished discussing Phoebe, Clay told me they’re getting a divorce.” She looked at him with such intensity in her expression that he felt something in his chest tighten. Had she read his mind? “Clay wanted me to give him another chance. Again, I told him no. That’s why I don’t think he’s responsible for the baby’s disappearance. If he wants me back, he wouldn’t make trouble for me.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Sanchez replied.

  Suddenly the electricity came on, blasting the room with light. She looked sexy as hell was his first reaction when he saw her tousled hair and the smudge of tomato sauce on her upper lip. She gazed at him across the small table with those gray-green eyes. It was too easy to get lost in the way she looked at him, the way she responded to his touch. They kept gazing at each other, neither able to pull away.