Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

by Beverly Barton

  “Please, forgive me. I—I don’t know what came over me. I assure you—”

  “It’s okay. Really. It was all my fault. I deliberately seduced you. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, please, Abby, don’t apologize. I’m terribly embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be,” she told him. “Look, no harm done. We can both blame my mother-in-law, the nosy, interfering old busybody.”

  “She’s deeply concerned about your cheating on her son. If you could just reassure her that you’re being faithful to your husband—”

  “If I do that, Reverend, I’d be lying.”

  “Are you saying that you—”

  “We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we?” She winked at him.

  He gulped again.

  “You keep my secret and I’ll keep yours,” she said.

  “And we’ll both burn in hell.”

  “You think you’ll burn in hell because of one little kiss?”

  He shook his head. “I lusted after you in my heart. I still lust after you.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Thinking a thing is as bad as doing it.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, then why don’t you stay?”

  When she tried to touch him, he held up his hands to fend her off. “No.”

  She reached around him and opened the door. “Then good night, Matthew, and thank you for stopping by. Come back anytime you’re in the neighborhood.”

  He turned and practically ran from her, onto the porch and down the sidewalk. She slammed the door and laughed. Poor fool. He’d probably rush home and jerk off as quick as he could. Wonder if jerking off is a sin? Probably. But not as big a sin as screwing a married woman.

  Twilight shadows danced across the backyard, over trees and shrubbery, across flowers and grass. As she headed out the kitchen door, balancing three glasses of lemonade on a small plastic tray, Bernie flipped the switch that turned on the back porch light. True to his promise to move back in with Jim, Kevin had returned to his father’s duplex apartment four days ago and from what she could tell, the two were getting along okay. Keeping her end of the bargain, she had invited Jim and Kevin to dinner at her house this evening. They’d eaten supper nearly an hour ago, but had just finished cleaning up in the kitchen and feeding Boomer a few minutes ago. Kevin had taken Boomer outside to play, while Jim carried lawn chairs out into the yard, where he and Bernie could sit and talk.

  When she approached Jim, he reached over and took the tray from her and placed it on the third chair, which was empty since Kevin was busy chasing Boomer all over the yard.

  “Sit down and rest,” Jim said. “You have to be tired after putting in a full day at the office, and then cooking us a great supper.”

  When Bernie sat, Jim picked up one of the glasses off the tray and handed it to her, then took one for himself before sitting.

  While watching Kevin frolicking with Boomer, Bernie took a sip of the sweetly tart lemonade. “Kevin needs a dog of his own.”

  “Kevin needs a lot of things he doesn’t have.”

  “If you’re going to blame yourself for everything wrong in Kevin’s life, I’m not going to listen.”

  Jim chuckled. “I can’t blame you for being tired of hearing me bellyache about how I’ve failed my son.”

  “Stop worrying about how you’ve failed him in the past and concentrate on how you’re going to be a good father now and in the future.”

  Jim nodded, then sipped on his lemonade.

  They sat side by side in silence for a while, watching Kevin and Boomer and the lightning bugs flitting around in the evening sky, listening to the tree frogs and katydids, breathing in the scent of the honeysuckle vine that grew along the fence. Bernie hadn’t felt at peace since last Wednesday night when Thomasina Hardy’s nude body had been found near Sunflower Creek. She hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since then, had spent every waking minute worrying about who their killer’s next victim would be and praying they could find a way to catch him and put a stop to his killing spree.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Jim said.

  “Just thinking about Derek Lawrence’s profile of our killer.”

  “What about it?”

  “He was very specific in certain areas and yet so much of the profile was too general to help us. There were things that he listed as possible traits that might be true of numerous men.”

  “Such as?”

  “Mr. Lawrence believes that sometime in his past, someone who looked like all the victims played a part in some traumatic event in our killer’s life, so traumatic that it triggered his need to kill.”

  “Revenge. It’s a powerful motive.”

  “A pretty, young, popular brunette did something terrible to him—”

  “Or someone did something terrible to this young woman, someone important to our killer.”

  “See, you just proved my point. There are too many ways to interpret Lawrence’s findings. How many men over the age of twenty-five haven’t had their hearts broken at least once? They don’t turn into killers. And what might be traumatic for one person might not be for another.”

  “Often profiles are as good for ruling out suspects as they are in pinpointing a specific person.”

  “The problem is, we don’t have any suspects.”

  “Hey, Dad, Bernie, watch this,” Kevin called. “I’ve taught Boomer to fetch.” Kevin threw a small stick and Boomer chased after it; then he grabbed it in his mouth, laid down on the ground and chewed the stick to pieces.

  Jim and Bernie couldn’t stop themselves from laughing at the puppy’s antics and at the funny expression on Kevin’s face.

  “Ah, Boomer, you messed up our trick.” Kevin hurried across the yard to Boomer, who jumped like a jackrabbit and ran away, thinking Kevin wanted to play some more.

  Instead, Kevin came over to where Jim and Bernie were. He picked up his glass of lemonade, set the tray on the ground and dropped down into the chair. “Tonight’s been really nice, hasn’t it, Dad?”

  Jim glanced at Bernie and grinned, then looked at Kevin. “It sure has.”

  “Bernie’s a pretty good cook,” Kevin said.

  “Yes, she is.” Jim saluted his son with his glass. “And she makes delicious lemonade.”

  “Aw, shucks,’ t’weren’t nothing,” she said jokingly. “Just squeeze a few lemons and add sugar and water.”

  Kevin laughed. It was so good to hear him laughing, to see him smiling, to listen to him kidding around with his father again. Bernie wished she could save this night, like recording a TV show on video, something she could play back over and over again, savoring every minute. If she could have anything she wanted, anything in the whole wide world, she’d ask for Jim and Kevin. To be Jim’s wife and a mother to his son.

  Boomer came racing across the yard and jumped up in Kevin’s lap, almost knocking his glass out of his hand. At the same time, Jim’s cell phone rang. Bernie’s stomach knotted. Please, God, don’t let it be news that another woman has been abducted.

  Jim jerked his phone off the belt hook, flipped it open, and said, “Captain Norton here.” After pausing to listen, he cut his eyes toward Kevin. “Yeah. Un-huh. How’s Mary Lee?”

  Kevin’s eyes widened in surprise. He grabbed Jim’s sleeve and yanked.

  “Is it Allen?” Kevin asked. “Tell him that I want to talk to Mom. Please.”

  “Kevin would like to speak to his mother,” Jim said.

  Bernie could tell by the expression on Jim’s face that he hadn’t liked the response from Allen Clark. “Yeah, I understand and I’ll deal with it the best I can.”

  Bernie sensed something was wrong—something that was going to hurt Kevin. Her maternal instincts came into play, urging her to protect Kevin.

  Jim listened for a few minutes, his expression growing colder and more tense by the second.

  “I want to talk to Mom,” Kevin repeated.

  “Look, Allen, tell Mary Lee that—” Jim cursed under his
breath and Bernie instinctively knew that Allen Clark had hung up on him.

  “What’s wrong?” Kevin asked. “Is Mom okay?” Boomer licked Kevin’s face.

  Jim closed his cell phone, clipped it back to his belt and hesitated for a full minute before facing his son. Kevin placed a squirming Boomer on the ground.

  “Your mother is all right,” Jim said. “But she’s not dealing with the treatments very well. They’re making her very sick and she doesn’t want you to see her so sick.”

  “I don’t understand.” Kevin looked at Jim pleadingly. “School starts the end of next week, and I’ll go home then and—”

  “Would it be so bad if you stayed here in Adams Landing with me for a while longer, maybe even started school here?” Jim turned and held out his hand to Kevin.

  Tears clouded Bernie’s vision, her heart breaking for father and son.

  “I can’t stay here with you.” Kevin jumped up, spilling his lemonade all over his shorts and bare legs. “I have to go home. My mom needs me. She wants me with her.”

  Kevin threw his glass on the ground and went running into the house.

  “What did Allen Clark say?” Bernie asked.

  “He said just what I told Kevin—that Mary Lee’s treatments make her deathly sick. She wants Kevin to stay here with me.”

  “For how long?”

  “Indefinitely.”

  “Oh, Jim.”

  “I cannot tell him that his mother doesn’t want him, that she can’t deal with an almost teenage son while she’s battling cancer. He won’t understand.” Jim got up and walked away toward the far side of the yard.

  Bernie followed, caught up with him and placed her hand on his back.

  He tensed. “What am I going to do?”

  “You’re going to be tactfully honest with Kevin. He’ll be angry and hurt, and he just might take it out on you. But you’re going to love him and support him and be there for him. And I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

  Jim turned, looked at Bernie for half a second, then grabbed her and kissed her. Taken off guard by his actions, she froze at first, then when she felt his tongue probing, she opened her mouth and returned his kiss with all the passion she’d been keeping bottled up inside her.

  Chapter 20

  Matthew Donaldson knelt in front of the altar in the sanctuary of his church on this sweltering hot summer night. Alone, just he and his God. With guilt and remorse in his heart, he begged for forgiveness. More than anything, he wanted to serve the Lord, here in Adams Landing. His church. His people.

  Having served as an assistant at two other churches, one in Georgia and one in North Carolina, he felt an overwhelming sense of pride that this was his church. He was the minister, the one to whom the congregation looked for guidance, expecting him to lead by example. He had the opportunity to prove himself, to overcome his weaknesses and become the dedicated and influential disciple of the Lord he aspired to be.

  With his hands folded in a prayerful gesture and his eyes focused upward, toward heaven, he beseeched the Heavenly Father.

  “Forgive me, dear Lord. I have sinned grievously. I have lusted after a woman—a married woman. I was tempted almost beyond reason.”

  And this was not the first time since coming to Adams Landing that the Devil had tested him, putting temptation in his path. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to resist Robyn Granger. She was one of the most beautiful, desirable women he had ever known. If she were a different type of woman, he might have pursued a chaste relationship with her, perhaps even chosen her for his wife. But Robyn was not the type of woman suited to being a minister’s wife. Knowing that fact did not stop him from wanting her, from desiring her in the most sinful way possible.

  It was Robyn’s fault that tonight when he had gone to counsel Glenda Miller’s wayward daughter-in-law, he had been sorely tempted by her luscious body and wicked seduction. For endless days and nights, he had been tormented by his desire for Robyn, tormented almost beyond reason.

  “Help me, merciful God. I am a sinner. I have evil thoughts, and I have done terrible things. But you and you alone know the agony I have experienced, the torture I have endured in my efforts to be a good man, a man worthy of the position I hold.”

  Tears of remorse trickled down Matthew’s cheeks. Overcome by his guilt and remorse, he fell prostrate on the floor. Sobbing as he prayed, he wept until he was spent, until he was unable to utter a single word. With the soft carpet pressing against his cheek, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

  Images of Abby Miller appeared in his mind. Abby naked, holding her arms open, begging him to make love to her.

  His eyelids flew open. “Damn you, Abby. Damn you, Robyn. You will be punished for your wickedness. If you do not change your evil ways, you will both burn in hellfire for all eternity.”

  Robyn busied herself in her small apartment kitchen, placing the sandwiches she’d just made onto plates, setting the plates on the bar, and then pouring two glasses of iced tea. Raymond was still in the bathroom, which gave her a few more minutes to figure out what she was going to say to him. It wasn’t as if he was the first man who’d ever told her he loved her, but he just might be the first man who’d ever said it and meant it.

  She liked Raymond. She’d always liked him, even when she was a kid. He’d been a sweet boy who had grown up to be a very nice man.

  Robyn laughed. She didn’t make a habit of dating nice men. She usually preferred bad boys. Good-for-nothings like Paul Landon—rich, handsome, and worthless. Or cocky, self-confident studs like Ron Hensley and Brandon Kelley. And then there was the rare breed—the unobtainable, like Jim Norton.

  The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Raymond Long. But she wouldn’t lie to him and tell him she loved him. She didn’t love him, certainly not the way he proclaimed to love her. But she liked him a lot. And the guy was a skillful, ardent lover, who, during their lovemaking, had concentrated more on her satisfaction than his own. That alone was a real turn-on for her. Probably for most women. After all, what woman wouldn’t want to be adored. Worshipped. Cherished.

  “You didn’t have to fix me something to eat,” Raymond said as he emerged from the bathroom, neatly dressed and a hopeful expression on his face. “I would understand if you wanted me to go now.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She pulled the satin lapels of her mid-thigh-length robe closer together and stepped out from behind the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. “I haven’t had supper and figured you hadn’t either.”

  “That’s very nice of you.” He offered her a shy, closed-mouth grin.

  He’s adorable. It wasn’t often she met a thirty-four-year-old guy who was shy and sweet after the lovemaking.

  Robyn pulled out one of the bar stools, patted the cushioned seat and motioned to Raymond. “Come on, let’s eat.” As he approached her, she smiled warmly. “And maybe we should talk, too.”

  Pausing, appearing to be greatly concerned by her suggestion that they talk, Raymond frowned. “Look, I know I probably made a fool of myself tonight. I shouldn’t have blurted out that I love you. And believe me, I don’t expect you to—”

  Robyn rushed over to him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. When she lifted her head, she saw that his eyes were closed, almost as if he was praying. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  He obeyed her request.

  “You have great eyes,” she said, then eased her hands downward and cupped his buttocks. “And you’re a wonderful lover.”

  His face flushed scarlet.

  Robyn laughed. “Hasn’t any woman ever told you that before?”

  He stared at her, speechless, everything he felt there in his eyes for her to see.

  Robyn lifted her hands upward and pulled her arms from around his body, then entwined her fingers behind his neck again. “I’m not in love with you.”

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, as if somehow they were emotionally connected, Robyn felt his disappointment and sub
sequent acceptance of what he perceived as her rejection.

  “But you know what, Raymond Long? You’re the kind of man I’d like to fall in love with.”

  “What does that mean … exactly?” he asked. His body was rigid, his voice tense.

  “It means I don’t want tonight to be a one-night stand.” She pulled away from him, locked her gaze with his and stated emphatically, “I’d like for us to start dating.”

  He swallowed hard. “Do you mean that?”

  Smiling encouragingly, she nodded. “Yes, I mean it. I’m not saying we should date each other exclusively. At least not right away.”

  “I understand. Whatever you want, however you want it is fine with me.”

  “You are the dearest, sweetest man.”

  He grabbed her. Gently. Tentatively.

  “I worship the ground you walk on, Robyn. I always have. I’d do anything for you. If you were mine—really mine—I’d spend every day of the rest of my life trying to make you happy.”

  “Oh, Raymond.” Emotion tightened her throat.

  “No one could ever love you as much as I do.”

  Clearing her throat and keeping her smile intact, she clasped his hand in hers. “Let’s eat supper, then why don’t you spend the night?”

  “You want me”—he gulped nervously—“to spend the night?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Oh, yes. I most certainly do.”

  Bernie ended the kiss, pulled away from Jim and sucked in several deep, hard breaths. Dear God, what had just happened?

  Jim Norton kissed you. Kissed you the way you’ve dreamed he would kiss you. Passionately. Forcefully. As if he wanted you desperately.

  And you kissed him back. Hell, you practically devoured him.

  “What … what was that all about?” Bernie asked breathlessly.

  Jim looked stunned, as if he was as surprised by his actions as she’d been. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

  “Well, I think we’d better figure it out, don’t you?”

  Jim nodded.