by Julie Miller
Ah, nuts. He was really losing it. He couldn’t tell his waking nightmares from the ones that haunted his sleep anymore.
He could still hear Braden crying.
His fault. His guilt.
“Mr. Powers, we regret to inform you that…gunshot wound to the head…suspect a professional hit… Your son died in the resulting crash… So sorry.”
“Stop it!” He pounded his fist into the second pillow and slung it after the first. He heard quiet footsteps in the hallway, a woman’s soft tread. Like that ME down at the morgue who’d needed him to ID Braden’s body. “Damn it, when will you get out of my head?”
His own gut-deep wail was swallowed up by the darkness of his empty bedroom. He shot to his feet and stalked into the bathroom. Without turning on the light, he ran cold water in the sink and splashed it on his face and chest. When that wasn’t enough to completely wake him, he dunked his head beneath the faucet and let the icy spray cool the fever inside him.
After toweling off his face and torso and slicking back his hair, Dwight could still hear the cries. He splayed his fingers on his hips and let his shoulders sag as waking reality finally gave him a break. “Idiot.”
He was nuts. He had company in the house.
He was torturing himself over nothing.
Not Braden. Tyler Rinaldi was crying at five in the morning.
But understanding didn’t necessarily bring relief. Why wasn’t Maddie taking care of him?
That’s what he’d heard a few moments ago, no doubt. Maddie tiptoeing down to the kitchen to fix a bottle for the kid’s late-night snack. The baby was just fussing until she returned with the good stuff.
Identifying the sounds and probable scenario calmed him a bit. He breathed in deeply and let the knowledge of his surroundings soothe his frustrations.
Maddie. Of the red hair and soft skin and surprising stubbornness. Armed with a skillet and a sharp tongue, ready to take on the world to protect her family.
Protect them from Joe Rinaldi.
Joe Rinaldi escaped from prison.
“Ah, hell.” Footsteps in the hall?
“Maddie?” Dwight slung open the door and stormed across the landing. The alarm hadn’t sounded. The security lights hadn’t come on. Except for the moonlight streaming through the foyer windows at the base of the stairs, the house was utterly still and dark. But that didn’t mean it was empty.
He hadn’t protected Alicia. Hadn’t kept Braden safe. Joe Rinaldi was here.
Tyler cried out.
“Maddie!”
“Wait…”
Dwight shoved open the door and plowed into a soft, warm, nearly naked woman.
He snaked his arms around her to keep her from crashing to the floor. “Dammit, why didn’t you answer me?”
Maddie shrugged, lifting her breasts against his chest with nothing but the thin barrier of that damned nightgown between them. “I was changing the baby. I couldn’t leave him uncovered.”
“I thought…” Dwight swallowed hard. Muscles, skin and nerves leaped to life with a sudden pricking of heat wherever their bodies touched, temporarily distracting him from his fears. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused harder. Firm thighs. Round hips. Full, luscious breasts. No! “I called out…”
Her fingers dug into his biceps, clinging for balance.
“Dwight?” Her soft voice was a drowsy balm against nerves that couldn’t seem to relax. Softer fingertips brushed against his jaw. “Is something wrong?”
Yeah. This. You. Me.
He opened his eyes to look down into a sea of deep blue concern. Is something wrong? Hell, he had her bent halfway back across one arm with her toes barely touching the floor. He was the one who should be asking that.
“Sorry.” He eased the death grip he had on her and retreated a step. “You weren’t answering. I thought maybe… I thought you were in trouble.” He’d feared the worst. And he knew damn well he couldn’t deal with the worst again. He rubbed his palms across the red marks he’d left on the pale skin near her shoulders. God, he wasn’t any better than Rinaldi. “Did I hurt you?”
“You startled the pooey out of me, but I’m all right.”
“The pooey, huh?” He almost smiled at the silly word. But the frissons of fear and guilt and unexpected lust still firing through his system wouldn’t allow it.
One glimpse over her shoulder to the center of the rumpled bed reminded Dwight of the sound that had awakened him in the first place. Tyler lay inside a fort made of pillows, wearing a diaper, a blanket and nothing more.
Dwight’s mouth seemed to have a hard time getting around his next question. “What about the kid. Is he all right?”
“Tyler’s fine. He generally gets hungry about this time. I’m sorry if we woke you. I was trying to keep him quiet.” Even in the darkness, he could see the blush rising from the neckline of her gown. Her fingertips drummed against his arms in a nervous rhythm. “I heard you cry out. You must have been having a nightmare. I was going to knock, but then Tyler—”
“It’s probably best if you stay out of my bedroom.” The irony of his husky request sounded teasing and intimate, standing in the middle of her bedchamber.
The blush reached her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the center of his chest. “Of course. I mean, I wouldn’t intrude.”
“You know, we really have to work on this communication thing. If I say something, you need to respond.” Before he got all worked up and started imagining the worst. “I don’t know if you’re being shy or you think I’m going to snap your head off. I know I can be demanding.” Her lips pressed together in that seductive pout. Was that a giggle in her throat? Amusement or nerves? He needed her to understand the kind of grief she’d put him through. “But it’s always for a good reason. Raising my voice doesn’t mean I’m going to hurt you.”
“I know.” But did she believe it?
“I expect answers.”
“I know.” Her gaze stayed riveted on his chest, where her fingers tapped against his skin, teasing him into a state of hyperawareness. What was she doing? Counting gray hairs? “I guess I’m just not used to having anyone around to answer to.”
“I’m not used to having anyone around, either.”
She cocked an eyebrow and nodded. “I can tell. Messing with your regular routine makes you grumpy.”
What? Didn’t mouthy Ms. Spinster Pants have any idea what it cost him to get close to anyone? To get involved? To care? And she wanted to make a joke?
But any argument died on his lips when she tilted her chin to face him. There was nothing plain about the way the moonlight and shadows deepened her eyes to a rich midnight-blue. Nothing spinsterish about the hint of amusement that warmed her cheeks. Nothing he minded at all about the timid smile she directed his way.
“I’ll try to do better.”
“Yeah.” Now there was a snappy closer. He wouldn’t win any arguments with that one. “Me, too.”
Why was it so damn hot in here? He had the air conditioner running at full blast. And why was she standing so close? Or was he the one who couldn’t seem to move away? Her skin glowed in the moonlight? It looked so soft….
It was soft. Dwight realized he’d been running his palms up and down her arms this whole time.
The sultry promise of the August heat outside had worked its way between them. The fever from his nightmare still simmered in his veins. And something else—something long dormant and unexpectedly potent—flared to life deep inside him.
Dwight slid his hand up Maddie’s neck beneath her hair. Her skin was cool to the touch until that responsive blush caught up to the stroke of his hand. Her hair was such a warm color, her eyes so beautiful, her lips more inviting than a starving man’s next meal.
He inched half a step closer, letting his arm fall down behind her shoulder. With just another tug, the soft curves of her body flattened against his harder planes. He loved that nightgown she wore. It was modest in design, from the square neckline to the ruffle at
her knees. But it was worn and soft and thin enough to reveal just enough to drive his imagination crazy with what he couldn’t see. Spicy ginger teased his nose, and his body leaped to life, wanting what he’d denied himself for far too long.
Dipping his head, they exchanged breaths and heat. He hadn’t wanted a woman for so long, but he wanted this one. Right here. Right now. If he could lose himself in just one kiss…
“Dwight.”
Maddie’s husky voice danced across his skin. Her cool palms braced against his chest, scorching his skin. Color flooded her cheeks. Her chest expanded in a stuttered breath and her taut, pearled nipples thrust against him.
Dwight moaned at the sweet rush of heat that went straight to his groin, canceling the pain and penance of remembering. Oh, yeah.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. Her fingertips clutched at his shoulders in an unintended caress.
“Making the nightmares go away.” Oh, yeah. One kiss. Lose himself in her fire. Get this crazy lust out of his system. “Just once, Red.” He licked the rim of his suddenly parched mouth and touched his lips to hers. “Just one.”
Tyler’s high-pitched cry twisted through Dwight’s gut and jerked him back to reality.
Dwight closed his hands around Maddie’s shoulders and pushed temptation firmly away from him. Then he held his hands up, as if his abrupt withdrawal and foul mood weren’t already enough of a deterrent to keep any woman at a distance.
The color drained from Maddie’s skin and she hugged her arms around her middle and turned toward the bed. The kid was bawling in earnest now, his eyes squinched shut and his tiny limbs thrashing in distress.
“Make him stop.” Dwight ground the plea between his teeth.
Maddie’s back stiffened at the taut request and he felt even lower than the scumbags he prosecuted. Without a word of protest or censure, she removed the yellow baby blanket and finished dressing Tyler.
She picked up the baby—rocked him, paced, soothed him with a gentle melody—and ignored Dwight.
He clenched his fists at his sides, squeezing hard until the muscles in his chest and arms shook with the effort. But he couldn’t form his words around an apology. He couldn’t get past the needy, helpless sounds that tore through his conscience. He couldn’t ease the fever that still burned through every pore of his body. “Maddie—”
“Get out of my room.” She picked up the bottle on the nightstand, speaking over her shoulder in his general direction without ever making eye contact. Tyler latched on to the nipple and sucked with a greedy satisfaction Dwight envied. “Sorry to be such a bother to you. I promise, next family crisis, we’ll leave you alone.”
“It’s not that. It’s me. I’m—”
“Rude? A tease?” She was looking at him now, glaring, advancing. “I don’t have that much experience with men, Mr. Powers. For obvious reasons.” Obvious? How? And what happened to Dwight? Not the point. “I’d appreciate it if you’d just stick to business, since that seems to be what you’re so good at. I hate to admit it, but until Joe’s caught, until Katie comes home, I need your help. I don’t need to be confused by…whatever that was that didn’t just happen between us.” She nudged the door shut, forcing him out into the hallway. “Good night.”
With the closed door staring him in the face, Dwight felt strangely, bitterly alone. She was confused? For years, his detachment from people had been his solace. He’d done without sex, without cuddling or bantering, without close-ness—without company—and he’d survived. Barely.
Suddenly, he was craving every one of those things. But he shouldn’t.
He didn’t want to feel anything for Maddie McCallister. Not respect for her courage. Not this burning drive to argue his point until she understood him or he conceded to her. Not this unexpected hunger for her softness and fire and sweet, sweet smiles.
Kissing her would have been a mistake. Giving into that sort of physical need would have plunged him over a precipice he couldn’t climb out of. Maddie came with a baby. She came with a family. She came with a threat that echoed all he had lost six years ago.
He couldn’t deal with losing like that again.
Joe Rinaldi wasn’t in the house. Dwight had overreacted because of his irrational fears and guilt. He’d hurt Maddie and frustrated himself in the process.
Still, he checked every window and door on his way down to the basement gym, where he pulled on his boxing gloves and took out his crazy, mixed-up cravings on the heavy bag. He could sweat the physical desire out of his system if he worked out long and hard enough.
He didn’t even want to consider how he was going to get rid of these decidedly unbusiness-like emotions that wouldn’t leave him alone.
THE PHONE WAS RINGING.
Not Dwight’s line. Her phone. In her purse. Upstairs.
“Katie?”
Maddie dropped the stack of towels from the laundry onto the curving newel post at the bottom of the stairs and took off running.
“Katie!”
Pushing her legs up the stairs, two at a time, Maddie quickly turned the corner and dashed into her room. She grabbed her purse and headed into the hallway so she wouldn’t wake Tyler.
“Don’t hang up,” she begged, digging through her purse. When she had the cell in her hand, she dropped her purse, verified the Out of Range source of the call and punched the talk button. “Hello?”
A beat of silence gave her a moment to replay the questions Detective Bellamy had instructed her to ask—condition, location, names, descriptions, time line…
“Where are you, Madeline?”
Maddie’s breath stopped up in her throat. “Joe.”
“I’m at the house and you’re not here. Your bed doesn’t even look like it’s been slept in.”
“You—you’re inside my house?”
He paused long enough to let her imagine the things he was touching, violating. “I’m in your girly little bedroom. Too much lace and too many old things for my taste, but your bed’s mighty comfy. You still sleeping alone in it?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Maddie paced before a defensive retort slipped out. She had to stay calm. Should she notify Detective Bellamy, who was parked in front of Dwight’s house? Was the listening van picking up this call? The officer last night said it was important to keep him on the line for as long as possible in order to get a trace. “How did you get in?”
“A lock has never stopped me before.” It hadn’t kept him away from Karen that last night. “I used the back door off the driveway. That’s where all the family comes in, isn’t it?”
All the family who was welcome there.
“What do you want?”
“I told you I was coming to see you.”
Where were the cops who were watching her house? Why hadn’t they tackled Joe and forced him to the ground the way they had Dwight?
Dwight.
Something lurched inside Maddie’s chest. She wished he was here.
Last night’s would-be savior seemed miles away at the courthouse in downtown Kansas City. An apparently compulsive need for punctuality had brought him downstairs early, shaved and polished and ready for a courtroom killing in his charcoal-gray suit and burgundy tie. Their conversation had consisted of “Thanks for the coffee” and a rundown of how the security system in his house worked.
Any mention of that almost-kiss last night had been conveniently ignored.
Or forgotten.
Maybe she was the only one still reeling from that close encounter of the awkward kind. She believed everything Dwight had ever said to her—about Katie, Tyler, Joe—but she couldn’t trust that the desire she’d read in his eyes or the need she’d felt in his body had been for her.
Joe Rinaldi had once claimed a fascination with the size of her breasts and the extra contours of her figure. That had been a lie, pure and simple. She’d been a means to get to her sister.
Now he was using he
r to get to Tyler and Katie. She wouldn’t allow it.
“The police are looking for you, Joe. The highway patrol. My house is one of the first places they’ll look for you.”
“You talking about that cop in the van outside?” His laugh grated across Maddie’s nerves, leaving dread in its wake. “He won’t be bothering you, me or anyone else for a while.”
Oh, God. “What have you done?”
He didn’t answer the question. Maybe she didn’t want to know. She found herself standing outside Dwight’s door the way she had last night, when she’d heard him cry out in his sleep.
Last night, she’d felt too unsure of herself to offer the comfort she’d longed to give him. He’d been in such pain. Then something crashed to the floor and she’d jumped back, remembering the violence Joe had brought into her life. Tyler had cried and her decision was made. She’d retreated to her room, suspecting she might not be what Dwight needed in the middle of the night but knowing she was everything Tyler needed.
This morning, however, she put aside any shy hesitation and opened Dwight’s door. There. On the table beside the bed. A telephone. She could dial Cooper Bellamy’s number and let him know she was on the phone with Joe right now. That he was in her house. And that the cop outside was… Please don’t let him be dead.
“I didn’t know you kept a picture of Karen on your dresser.” The affection in Joe’s voice sickened her more than his obvious threats. Maddie startled at the sound of glass smashing against wood. “You don’t mind if I keep it as a souvenir, do you? I didn’t get to attend her funeral, you know. As I recall, you filed a complaint that got me arrested that very same day. That’s pretty heartless, don’t you think?”
More heartless than stabbing your own wife dozens of times to keep her from leaving you?
Maddie perched on the edge of Dwight’s bed, feeling weak at the sounds of Joe trashing his way through her house. She experienced an odd sense of comfort at the firmness of the mattress and the way it refused to give beneath her weight. Not too unlike the man who slept here. Solid. Unyielding. She needed to summon that kind of strength.