They still thought he was dead, and he wasn't going to let them find out any different. Let them figure it out themselves. It wouldn't take long before they did, before he'd have to beat feet.
They, who?
He opened the door and found himself in a little kitchenette. Closing and locking the door behind him, he noticed the flicker of the TV in the adjacent room.
"Kate?" he said quietly, before he saw that she was asleep on the couch. His chest tightened as he looked at her. He couldn't resist kneeling down beside her and touching her cheek, running his fingers through her soft hair.
He'd always admired her ambition. How she always put her heart and soul into whatever she took on.
Even though it wasn’t true, he liked to tease her about how she’d shot a cow on the range. The truth was that she hunkered down and qualified, and he was proud of her. He respected her drive, her perseverance.
But he didn't want to put her in danger.
Regretfully, he decided to leave. He didn't know why he came to Kate’s anyway. Maybe it was because she had asked him to. Maybe because he’d had nowhere else to go. Maybe it was because he simply wanted to be with her.
Maybe he'd just take a shower and get the smoke and crud off him and then hit the road. He wanted to try the computer again, now that he knew the password and file names.
Since he'd left Kate that morning, Mack had walked to Rose Lake, debating whether or not to tell his parents he was alive. He was sure that their house was being watched. Maybe not. The cops still thought he was dead.
He had found his father at the boat house.
“Dad?”
“Johnny! Thank God you’re alive!” His father'd hugged the stuffing out of him. “We were so worried. So damn worried. Thank God.”
“I’m fine.”
“Johnny, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“You’re a good cop, son. We know you are. You’d never do what they said you did.”
His father’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He’d been crying. Over him?
“Thanks for that, Pop. I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”
“I’ve been wrong. And when I thought you were dead and couldn’t tell you that...well...I...I...”
Mack could tell that his father’s apology was taking a toll on him. He hugged the old man. “We’ll talk later. I have to go. Tell Mom that I love her. And Pop, I have to buy some time. Don’t tell anyone that you’ve seen me.”
“Okay. And you take care of yourself. Hear me?”
“I will.”
He had disappeared into the pine trees. Thankful that he’d talked to his father, Mack felt lighter and happier than he had in a long time.
But he hadn't had time to dwell on his father’s apology. He'd hurried over to the Gibson's garage and borrowed a bicycle. The Gibsons were in Florida, and Freddie wouldn't be using it for a while.
Mack had biked to the Heliport hoping to check out the drug storage locker, but there was no way. There were too many cops and civilians around participating in some kind of training with the K-9 dogs.
So that was a waste of time. He had to go back to the Heliport the first chance he got. He needed to check the storage bins.
But first, he needed some clean clothes and a shower.
Kate did have a shower here, didn't she?
Mack walked down the hall and found the shower. He also found an apartment size washer and dryer. He was tempted to toss his clothes in and wash them.
Tempting. Very tempting.
Maybe he could crash on Kate's floor for the night, and figure out what he should do next.
Not being able to resist the temptation, he shed his smoky clothes and got them washing in Kate’s washer. He turned the shower on and let the water get nice and hot before he jumped in. It felt good. Her soap was purple and smelled like lilacs. Her shampoo smelled like peaches.
He closed his eyes as he lathered up, thinking again of Kate's reaction to him being alive. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that she cared for him.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring down the barrel of a Glock .45.
"Well, look who's here–the un-dead Sergeant Mackowitz." Her eyes traveled his length once, then again. She didn’t blush this time, but stood her ground.
He grabbed for the shower curtain and held it in front of him. "Um...you want to put that gun away?"
She smiled. "Maybe. Maybe not."
He could swear that Kate was flirting with him.
"Is it loaded?"
She just smiled.
"Don't play with guns, Kate. Didn't I tell you that in training?"
"I'll put the gun down when you drop that shower curtain."
He couldn't believe what he heard and couldn't believe the glint of desire in her eyes. "Um...Kate...this isn't such a good idea. Don't start what you don't want to finish."
She lowered the gun, locked it, and put it on the counter. When she turned back to him, he saw that her face was flushed. "Maybe I want to finish it. It's not every day I see a naked man in the shower." She laughed. "Well, maybe every-other-day."
This time he was ready for her. The second that he saw the silver flash of handcuffs, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her into the shower with him.
She sputtered and shrieked, but it was too late. He had handcuffed her wrists behind her back.
"How dare you! Get them off me, Mack!"
He laughed.
"I'll kill you!"
"You'll have to stand in line."
She stopped sputtering when she noticed that he had her pinned against the ceramic wall. She stopped breathing when she noticed his growing erection.
"John?" She spoke very softly.
"Kate?" He didn't have to ask. He knew she wanted him to kiss her. And he had every intention of obliging. He had thought about this moment for a long time, and had fought it. But this time she was doing the asking and he was more than ready to give her what she wanted.
He didn't want to take it slow. His lips met hers, and he was lost. He pulled her body against his, and as the shower rained down on them, he tasted her lips, then her mouth.
She trembled and so did he. He grew bigger and harder and knew she could feel him pressing against her. He could see the wanting in her eyes, now a deep, rich emerald green.
"I-I want to touch you, John."
He wanted the same thing. "Where's the key to these damn things?" he mumbled, the words lost in her mouth.
"Pocketbook," she breathed. "I think."
"Damn."
"I know."
He shut the shower off, tied a towel around his waist, and then helped Kate out as he went to find her purse.
"It's on the floor on the side of the VV-98."
The cold air of her office sobered him up. How stupid of him. He had almost made love to Kate, right there in the shower.
He couldn't do that. It wasn't the right time. She deserved better than a hunted, haunted cop. She was right, he was "un-dead", but that didn't make him feel alive.
The moment was over. He could see it in her eyes when he returned to the bathroom with her purse. He knew it in his heart.
"My keys are in the front pocket. Go ahead, Mack. I can't do it."
She was back to addressing him as Mack.
He loved it when she called him by his given name. Twice now, she called him John in the heat of passion. And he knew that if he reined himself in and backed off like he should, he wouldn't hear her call him John again.
He unlocked the cuffs and slipped them off her wrists. “Kate, I don’t think that we should, as much as I’d like to. But–”
“I know.”
#
Mack sat across from Kate. He wore a red satin half-slip and a blue silk Chinese robe which didn't come close to wrapping around him.
He bent over, resting his elbows on his thighs, and they both heard a rip. So much for the Chines
e robe.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It was a little tight in the shoulders. I'll buy you another."
His knees were wide apart and the slip stretched taught.
"Mack, if you are going to wear a slip, you'll need to keep your knees together." Especially when you're not wearing underwear.
He sat back in the chair, then swung an ankle up and rested it on his knee.
Kate shook her head. Mack grunted. He shifted, put both feet flat on the floor then grabbed a chair cushion and held it in his lap. "How much longer before my clothes are dry?"
"I just put them in the dryer. It'll be a while yet."
"I have to hit the road," he said.
"You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here with me. And I'm going to put another ankle monitor on you."
"Not a good idea, Kate."
"What part?" She yawned again.
"All of it. I'm not going to wear another one of those things. Maybe they can trace me with the frequency or something."
"They can't," Kate said. "At least I don't think they can track you."
"You can with the drive-by and the damn VV-98. All they'd need is the frequency, right?"
"I don't know. I could ask Charlie."
"Who?"
"Charlie Chesterfield. He's the one who got me involved in electronic monitoring."
Mack's eyes narrowed, and for a second, she thought he might be jealous. Nice.
"Are you and Charlie close?"
For a second, Kate wanted to lie, wanted Mack to think that she had hadn't thought about him these past years. But the truth was that no one had ever measured up to Mack in her eyes.
“Charlie and I are just friends,” she had to admit.
"Good."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing. It just means good."
The man was frustrating. She would have at least liked him to be mad at himself because he hadn't asked her out all these years.
But that was then and now was now, and right now all she could think of was making love with Mack.
"Mack?"
"Yeah?"
"I know you don't want me near you. You've made that quite clear. But you're still in my program, and I'm going to keep an eye on you."
"It’s not that I don’t want you near me. It’s that I can’t have you near me. Someone's trying to kill me, and I don't want you in the way."
"I'm very serious." Kate swallowed her disappointment. She could help him. Why wouldn't he let her? "I'm going to get the ankle bracelet now. Would you kindly put your knees together?"
Mack raised a perfect back eyebrow. “I'm making you nervous, aren't I?"
Kate stopped on the way to her desk, then turned around. Their gaze met. "Yes, Mack. You made me nervous in high school and you make me nervous now."
He stood up and tried to smooth his slip down, but the poor piece of cloth didn't have a prayer. It clung to everything...every bulge and protrusion. She should have let him wear a fluffy terry cloth towel instead of the clingy nylon slip.
He walked toward her in the ridiculous outfit, shedding the ripped robe along the way and tossing it on the VV-98. Kate backed up as he stood in front of her with his hands on his hips.
"Let's go to bed."
She could barely think over the slamming of her heart. He certainly cut to the chase. "Yes. No. Well..."
"Forget about the ankle thing for now. We're both tired. Let's get some sleep." He looked around. "Is there another room here? Where's your bedroom?"
She pointed to the couch. "That. It pulls out into a bed."
He smiled. "Cozy."
Kate avoided his eyes. "Maybe I should sleep on the floor?"
"Hell, no."
He lifted her chin with a finger, and she met his gaze.
"If I were any kind of a gentleman, I'd take the floor, but I'm not a gentleman and we're both tired. I think we can be adults and share the bed."
"It's not a good idea that we sleep together."
"It's a great idea, but if you're worried about what happened in the shower just now, I promise I won't touch you."
But I can't promise that I won't touch you, Kate thought.
"Kate, I promise."
Damn his promises. She looked deep in to his eyes. He was sincere, much to her dismay.
"I insist that you wear the monitor." Kate moved around him and got the black plastic ankle bracelet from a desk drawer.
Mack didn't move. "Are you ever going to trust me?"
"It’s not about trust. It’s about my program. The program you agreed to do." She knelt down and quickly snapped the anklet into place. “Number three and counting.”
Mack shook his head, disgusted. "I'm going to get my clothes."
"But the cycle isn't done yet."
"It's close enough," Mack said, walking down the hall.
Kate pulled open the sofa sleeper and got the bed ready. When Mack returned, she was already in bed and the light was off. Only the orange glow of Clancy's sign lit the room.
She knew he could hear her heart pounding. She heard the mattress groan, then the sound of Mack's steady breathing, then his gentle snoring.
That made her mad. How could he so easily fall asleep, when she was torn between wanting to make wild, passionate love to him and sticking to her professional ethics?
More than anything, Kate wanted to curl up in his arms and absorb some of his strength, for he surely was strong. Here was a cop charged with heinous crimes, who had lost everything he owned today, whose parents thought he was dead. And he still managed to keep on going.
Kate sighed. Mack had wanted to visit his parents before and she wouldn't let him. She'd told him to call instead. If Mack had died in the fire...
She laid a hand on his back. "Mack?"
"Hmmmmm?"
"Wake up," she whispered loudly.
"Whatisit?" It was all one word, spoken into the pillow.
"Do your parents know that you are alive?"
“Yes.” He buried his head in the pillow and gave a deep sigh. The snoring began again.
Kate closed her eyes. She tried counting sheep, then tried counting Mack's snores. It was too unnerving with that massive hunk of man right next to her. She could smell the scent of lilac on his skin and peaches in his hair. And all he was wearing was a very flimsy half-slip.
And her hormones were raging. She wanted him!
Her knuckles skimmed nylon. Her red slip. Her heart started thumping again. This won't do. She couldn't sleep next to him when he was wearing that piece of nothing. Kate put a hand on Mack's bicep and shook him gently.
"Mmmm?"
"I thought you were going to put some clothes on."
"Too wet," he mumbled.
She let that digest, but she couldn't stop thinking of him, of the day's events. "Mack?"
"Hmmmm?"
"Where were you all day?"
In one quick motion, she found herself pinned under him with her arms over her head. Through the flimsy material of the slip, she felt his hardness. His weight on her was a blanket of muscle and man.
His lips found hers. He kissed her with a passion that made Kate melt into the mattress, melt into him.
"This seems to be the only way I can get you to shut up," he said. His tongue traced her lips. "Maybe we'll just finish what we started in the shower."
His words excited her. She wanted nothing more than to finish what they had started. But there were too many unresolved problems between them. Trust, for one. Kate wondered if the time would ever be right. If he would be able to clear his name and avoid a prison sentence. She couldn't stand to see Mack confined in a cage.
But she was scared for him. She was worried that the next time he wouldn’t be as lucky. She didn’t want to lose him, just when they were starting to get to know one another. Besides, he was still her client.
Kate warred with her conscience. It might be the last time they'd have together. She had adored him since the first time she saw him in home
room, and right now she wanted to make love with him, wanted to seize the moment.
But maybe under different circumstances. When all this was over, and they weren’t at war.
That was why she absolutely hated the fact that what she was about to do was right.
She placed her knee just under the hem of his red slip, and said, “Get off me, Mack, or you'll be singing with the Vienna Boys' Choir."
CHAPTER 7
Mack smiled in the dark and rolled over. Maybe now she'd be quiet so he could really sleep.
He was kidding himself. He couldn't sleep now. He'd had his testosterone all reined in before he slipped into bed, but now, after Kate woke him up, all he wanted to do was to run his hands over every inch of her skin and kiss her until they were both senseless. Then he'd make love to her the way he had wanted to for so many years.
So much for deep breathing and mind control.
Right now, he wanted to throw caution out the window, and tell himself that he had a future with Kate. But he couldn't even get the present straightened out.
He had to find out who was out to get him and make sure he wouldn't go to jail for a lifetime.
He had no future with her. He never had. And he had no business being near her and putting her life in danger.
A cold shock went through him. Kate had just left his house before it exploded. What if she had been in there?
Kate shifted on the sofa sleeper next to him and gave an unladylike snore. The palm of her hand rested on his chest, over his heart. He put his hand over hers and took a deep cleansing breath. God help him, it felt right being with Kate. It made him feel whole. Complete. And more than a little sane.
He loved being with her, but he had to get away from her as soon as he could.
But not right now. He needed to sleep. Needed a plan. Needed some dry clothes. And not necessarily in that order.
Above all, he needed to speed up his investigation.
And he hoped like hell that his father wouldn't give him away and tell anyone he was alive. He'd tell Mack's mother, no doubt, but she wouldn’t tell anyone.
His mother was quiet, a mere shadow of a person. She never went against Mike Sr. or spoke her mind. Just once, Mack would have liked to have received a phone call or a visit from his mother, just because it was something that she’d wanted to do.
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