Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  “Yes. It’s at the end of the street,” Veronica said, remembering what her grandmother had told her. She could hear her grandmother’s sweet Southern voice: “Honey-child, you used to ride your tricycle all over the place. Drove your mama plumb crazy when you started riding a two-wheeler. You’d zoom up and down the dirt road, fly around the dead end, then screech your tires like you was hot as a fox on a road race.”

  Veronica smiled at the memory of her grandmother’s voice. If only she could remember riding the bike, seeing her mother and father, hearing their voices. Sometimes she felt as if she had a big bottomless hole inside of her that would never be filled without those memories.

  Then other times she trembled at the thought of recalling her parents’ deaths. Did she really want to remember the horrible details?

  “Veronica, are you all right?” Nathan asked, turning on the side road that led to the subdivision.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just thinking.”

  “About your parents?”

  “Yes.” Sensing his sincerity, she considered sharing her feelings, but Nathan’s job stopped her. What if she remembered she had killed her parents? Could she handle knowing she had destroyed her own family? Would he arrest her?

  A shiver tore through her, and Nathan glanced at her. “Cold?”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. She could hear the cold metal handcuffs clamping shut. “A little.”

  “This isn’t much of a subdivision,” he said as the road narrowed. “It’s more like living in the country.”

  “I know. It was a long time ago. Grandmother said the houses were on half-acre lots.”

  Even in the dark, Veronica noticed there were only two other houses on the road. Both were old and dilapidated, barely livable. A black cat with a tiny white spot on its face darted across the road and Nathan swerved to miss it. “Geez. Crazy animal’s going to get run over.”

  “I guess he’s not used to seeing many cars out here,” Veronica said.

  The car hit a pothole and he steered it around another one, then slowed as they neared a dirt drive. Tall pines and spruce trees lined the road casting shadows across the dark earth while a quarter moon provided just enough light for Veronica to see the ragged condition of her childhood home. Most of the trees were bare of leaves, their branches tired and frail with winter. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as the car crawled toward the old house. Morosely, she thought the dead-end street and deserted house symbolized her life.

  What had once been a lovely white house with a front porch now looked weathered and saggy, with rotten boards, chipped paint and overgrown bushes marring the front stoop. A few of the shingles on the roof hung precariously to the side. Tree branches blown from a storm had crashed into one window, sending shards of broken glass across the wooden planks and front steps. The hedges and grass were overgrown, the yards full of weeds, and a mountain of kudzu covered a broken-down fence around the backyard. An old rusty wheelbarrow filled with pine straw lay overturned in the gravel drive.

  Nathan stopped the car, flipped on the parking lights and turned off the engine. Dark clouds billowed above and thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. A few scattered raindrops glistened on the windshield.

  Veronica forced her mind back to the photographs her grandmother had shown her—her father pushing her in a homemade swing from the oak tree in the front yard, her mother planting petunias around the mailbox, Veronica running through the water hose on a scorching summer day.

  She and Nathan sat in stony silence, the air between them heavy and tense with unanswered questions, the slow drizzling rain turning into a downpour. Veronica knew Nathan was watching her, waiting for any sign of her memory to return, but she tried to block out his presence and focus on the past, on remembering some detail, however small it might be. The car closed in around her, and the dreams she’d had as a child lingered in the back of her mind, teasing her fear and rattling her concentration. As in her repeated nightmares, a shadow, big and hulking, loomed before her, hands outstretched, ominous fingers reaching for her, strangling her with their bony tendrils. Thunder crackled like hungry mountain lions roaring in the night. Lightning lit the sky in jagged streaks and patches against the dark sky.

  The air became still and thick and hot. Veronica suddenly couldn’t breathe. Raindrops beat violently against the car, pounding relentlessly as the clouds unloaded their water onto the earth like teardrops falling from the sky. Veronica closed her eyes and dug her fingernails into the sides of the car seat, her heart racing painfully, fear pressing like a giant boulder on her chest. Her throat constricted, and perspiration trickled down her neck. The shadow’s giant fingers encircled her neck. She was gasping and heaving for air, praying the shadow would leave, that it wouldn’t find her, that she could run far, far away and never have to see it again.

  “Veronica, Veronica, can you hear me?” Nathan was shaking her, but she couldn’t respond except to go limp in his arms. “Look at me, Veronica. Are you all right?”

  The car spun in crazy circles. She swayed and groped for something solid to hold on to. Then she felt Nathan’s strong, powerful arms surround her, heard somewhere in the deep recesses of her consciousness his husky voice murmuring words of comfort, felt the gentle brush of his lips across her forehead, his hand stroking her hair and massaging the tension from her straining muscles. Her lungs drew in cleansing breaths as she struggled for composure. She blinked back the tears she’d tried to keep at bay all evening, but moisture trickled down her cheek, soaking his shirt.

  “I can’t remember,” she finally said, her voice thick with emotion. “I try so hard, but I just can’t.”

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Nathan said softly, tenderly combing her hair with his fingers.

  “You know, I can understand why I blocked out that night,” Veronica said in frustration. “But why the rest of my childhood? I don’t even remember living here.”

  He wrapped the long ends of her hair around his fist and tightened his hold. “Maybe there’s a reason you can’t remember. Maybe you’re not supposed to.”

  Because I killed my parents, I’m the reason they died.

  The self-recriminations and guilt that had consumed her all her life roared through her head, and she trembled again. Nathan pressed her against his chest, his body offering the kind of solace only a man with great tenderness and unfathomable passion could give. She sagged against him and absorbed his strength, allowing his warm breath to mingle with her own and his scent to envelope her with its intoxicating, masculine aroma. His hands were hypnotic, his voice like the soothing purr of a lover’s caress, his hard body a wall of strength.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  Veronica shook her head. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “Try me.”

  She looked into his eyes, the dark rich color of scotch drawing her in with their tenderness. “I had these nightmares as a child,” she finally said. “I still have them sometimes.”

  “What happens in the dreams?”

  Veronica hesitated, trying to gain control of her emotions. “I’m in the bedroom with my parents…but there’s someone else there. I can see a shadow.”

  Nathan traced his finger along Veronica’s hand, opened her palm and twined her fingers with his. “Then what happens?”

  “I don’t know.” She clenched her hands in frustration. “I can’t see the person’s face. I try and try but I can’t. It’s dark and I try to scream but…but nothing comes out.”

  He cradled her and rocked her gently in his arms. The only comfort she remembered was her grandmother’s arms. Nathan’s felt stronger, more secure, as if he’d never let the shadow capture her.

  “I think it’s a vision of the person who was there,” she continued, “but the—the doctor said it was just a figment of my imagination,” Veronica finished in a low voice. “He said the shadow represented a little girl’s fear or something like that.”

  “The police didn’
t find evidence of anyone else being there that night?”

  “My grandmother said they didn’t. That’s when they ruled it—” She broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

  “I know,” Nathan whispered. He rubbed her shoulders and wiped the tears from her eyes with the pads of his thumbs. “Why don’t you let me look into it? I’ll talk to the police chief who was in charge of the investigation years ago.”

  She didn’t know what to say. “You believe me?”

  Nathan chewed his lip. “I want to help you find the truth. Isn’t that what you want?”

  Veronica nodded and lowered her eyes. He hadn’t exactly said he believed her—only that he wanted to find the truth. She wanted desperately to find the truth, too. But the thought also terrified her. If she found out she had caused her parents’ deaths, would she be able to live with herself?

  NATHAN WRAPPED his jacket around Veronica, hugging her to him. A surge of protectiveness swelled inside him and he wanted to barricade himself around her so she would never have to feel afraid again. His body throbbed with unleashed desire as her breath whispered against his neck in tiny puffs and her fingernails dug into his chest with a kind of desperation that made his chest ache and his lower body harden with pure need. The scent of her shampoo invaded his nostrils, and his hands itched to tangle themselves in the long ebony strands of her glorious hair.

  But he could not take advantage of her. She was a frightened, confused woman who needed his help and understanding. Not his body, not his lust or his potent desire.

  “I’m going to take you home,” he said quietly, unfolding his arms from around her and settling her back against the seat. He tried to ignore the flicker of want burning in her eyes as the moonlight illuminated her face.

  Then the need was gone, and he saw the walls being resurrected around her as she clutched the jacket more tightly around her. He drove slowly and turned the radio to a soft rock station to fill the awkward silence. When they arrived at her apartment, he walked her to the door.

  “I’m coming in to check the apartment.”

  Veronica didn’t argue. She looked tired and slightly nervous as the door squeaked open, and he was certain the memory of finding the tape recorder and the newspaper articles still lingered in her mind with haunting clarity. He switched on the light and followed her as she walked through the house.

  “Why don’t you get some rest,” he suggested, fighting the urge to take her in his arms one more time.

  Veronica nodded, the pallor of her face a ghostly white in the dim light. “I think I’ll take a long bath.”

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  Her head snapped up. As she stared at him with a multitude of questions in her eyes, he instantly realized what she thought he’d implied. A big part of him wanted to let her believe that, to test her and see what her answer would be. But he still didn’t know if she was doing these things to herself, and he couldn’t take advantage of her.

  “I meant out here—until you get through.” He shifted from one foot to the other and avoided looking at the creamy base of her throat. “I thought you might feel safer that way.”

  A tiny smile tilted her rosy lips, and she handed him his jacket. “Thanks. I do feel safe when you’re around.” Then she turned and hurried into the bathroom.

  He heard the water running, imagined the bath salts turning into bubbles, Veronica stripping down to beautiful nothingness and slipping inside the tub, her rosy nipples taut and glistening with water, her bare toes dangling over the side of the tub begging for his kiss.

  He muttered a curse, then settled onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands. Veronica felt safe with him. That should make him feel good—but she wasn’t safe with him. Sure he wanted to protect her and comfort her, but he was a man. A simple male, who also wanted to take her to bed and show her his raging desire.

  He bit his lip and listened with one ear for the water to turn off, praying silently that she’d locked the door.

  VERONICA RELAXED into the sea of bubbles and stared at the unlocked door, wondering if Nathan had seen the flicker of need she’d unveiled before she’d rushed into the bathroom. She was so inexperienced and shy, too afraid to ask him to join her—too afraid he would say no.

  Dribbling the warm water over her skin, she realized she hadn’t been much of a sexual being at all. Not until she’d met Nathan Dawson. She’d tried with Ron, forced herself to let him touch her, but beyond the touching, which she hadn’t really enjoyed, and a few pleasant kisses, their sex life had been a failure. She’d thought she might be inept. But Nathan had awakened that hidden part of her that she’d never felt, and her body tingled with anticipation at the mere thought that he was sitting on her sofa while she lay naked in her tub. What would she do if he opened the door and joined her?

  She lay back and imagined him opening the door and walking in, envisioned him staring at her with raw heat and need in his eyes, then watched with her heart pounding as he stripped his clothes off and came toward her, his lips curved into a deliciously wicked smile. He was standing proud and masculine, his broad chest and body and legs covered with sandy blond hair, his sex throbbing and bold, screaming for her.

  Veronica sat bolt upright and grabbed her robe, embarrassed at her errant thoughts. Thank goodness she hadn’t told him to join her. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but she hadn’t said them. If he wanted her, he would make a move.

  And obviously he hadn’t.

  As she tightened the robe around her waist and combed the tangles from her wet hair, reality crept in—he didn’t want her because he thought she was crazy.

  NATHAN STRODE toward the door for the tenth time, his fingers itching to turn the knob and join Veronica. His hand fingered the buttons at the top of his shirt, but warning bells sounded in his head. He wanted her with an intensity that made him question his own sanity. He had to remember why he was here—certainly not as Veronica’s lover.

  He was here because she might be crazy, and he needed to solve her case. And as much as he wanted to take the woman, to pour himself into her sweetness, he couldn’t—not until he unraveled the truth from the mystery surrounding her.

  He dropped onto the sofa, hurriedly scribbled some notes, collected the tape recorder and article, then picked up the phone and checked in with the precinct. He’d post an officer outside her door. He couldn’t stay himself. He couldn’t stand the temptation.

  “Dawson, where the hell have you been?” Ford said, adding a few succulent curse words that Nathan tried to ignore.

  “I’m still working on the Miller case. What’s up with you, partner?”

  Ford laughed. “I’ll fill you in on that robbery if you ever come in.”

  Nathan gritted his teeth. “I’ll meet you there in the morning.” I’m also going to make an appointment to see Scroggins, the officer who worked the Miller case years ago.

  “You know you’re wasting your time with that weirdo,” Ford said deadpan.

  “You do your job the way you want, I’ll do mine the way I want,” Nathan growled. “And I want a guard outside her apartment all night.”

  “Oh, God, you’re hung up on her, aren’t you?”

  “Just do what I said and get a guard here,” Nathan snapped, cutting Ford off. “If there’s any flack, I’ll take responsibility. See you in the morning.” Nathan paced the floor for the next thirty minutes, hoping Ford would send the guard before Veronica came out. He didn’t think he could stand being alone with her and not holding her.

  Finally she stepped out from the bathroom, her hair wrapped turban-style in a towel, her creamy flesh glowing in the vee at the top of her long silky robe. He swallowed a groan. “I have to go in a few minutes. I’ve asked for a guard outside your door.”

  Veronica toyed with the sash around her robe. “Thanks for staying.”

  He nodded, studying her. She looked more relaxed and calmer, her cheeks rosy from the warm bath. “Do you think you can get some sleep now?”
He certainly knew he wouldn’t.

  “I’ll try,” Veronica said, offering him a shy smile.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll wait outside until he shows.” He jotted his phone number on a pad next to the phone. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need me.” Then he hurried to the door so he could escape before he touched her.

  “Nathan?”

  He paused and looked into her eyes. The desire he saw in her expression almost broke his good intentions, and he gazed at her for a long moment. The question lingering between the two of them crackled like static electricity. He should get out of there before he did something they both might regret. He reached for the doorknob but couldn’t leave. Not without touching her one more time.

  He closed the distance between them, traced one finger down her jaw, then lowered his mouth to hers. Gently, slowly, he savored the yearning he felt in her response, the soft moan that escaped as she parted her lips and teased his mouth with her tongue. She tasted sweet and needy, and his ache for her grew as he angled his head and deepened the kiss. She caressed his jaw with her soft palm, and he thought he would die from the raw need that surged through him.

  A knock sounded at the door, bringing his sanity back. “That’s probably him now.”

  “Probably,” Veronica whispered.

  He pulled away slightly, momentarily leaning his forehead against Veronica’s to gain control. “I should go,” he finally said in a low voice. “I’ll talk to the guard before I leave.”

  Veronica nodded, her breath gently brushing against his cheek. “Thanks, Nathan.”

  Her whispered words brought a smile to his face. As much as he wanted her, winning her trust was more important than his own desire. He nodded, then said good-night and closed the door.

  VERONICA WATCHED out the window as Nathan hurried to his car and drove away. Being alone hadn’t really bothered her before, but tonight she felt bereft as he walked away from her. People were always leaving her—first her parents, then her grandmother. And when the investigation was over, Nathan would leave, too. She had to be prepared for that. He was only doing his job. She touched her finger to her lips and smiled; at least she had the memory of his kiss.