Rafe shrugged. “Just tell him ‘Not this time.’ Now, that doesn’t mean he’ll accept it. He may have his own reasons for insisting he go along, in which case you might as well give in and save the energy.”
“I’m beginning to see who really runs this place,” he said drily.
“Hard to argue with his track record,” Rafe said blandly.
Gavin wondered exactly which track record he was talking about, but didn’t ask because he was afraid he knew. Which brought him right back to the subject he’d been trying to avoid. Katie.
He gave himself an inward shake. Wondered if there was something about the surroundings or the atmosphere here that screwed up his focus. He looked at Cutter and said firmly, “Not this time.”
The dog angled his head as if thoughtfully considering. And then he walked over and sat at Rafe’s side.
“Looks like you got permission,” Rafe said, with a grin Gavin had never seen from the man before. That dog was a miracle worker in more than one way.
* * *
Gavin sat in the all-night diner, tapping his pen on the pad with his notes. The remains of his meal—a burger that he’d figured was the safest choice but had actually turned out to be pretty good—was pushed to one side but the coffee cup, due for another topping off, stayed close. There weren’t a lot of other customers at this hour somewhere between late night and early morning, so he didn’t feel pressured to leave. And the waiter was a good one who, when he saw Gavin was working intently, just refilled his coffee without saying a word and otherwise left him alone.
The first night here he’d tried working in his hotel room, but the bed seemed to mock him. He was seriously tired, but his brain was in overdrive, and he knew if he lay down he would be wide-awake the moment his head hit the pillow. And if he let his guard down enough to try and sleep, he knew where his unruly mind would go. So tonight he didn’t even make the effort.
He stared down at his notes. Considering the months that had passed, the stories from the witnesses had stayed quite consistent. He reread the statements of four men he’d spoken to the last couple of days, one of them Carr’s admitted best friend. The man had begun by reaffirming the alibi and, after a drink or two provided by Gavin, ended up cheerfully recounting some of the raunchier details of the party.
One of those details led Gavin to add a name to his list of people to talk to—the girl Ross had hooked up with at said party. The men had confided they’d thought it just a one-time thing, that Ross might have gotten her a little drunk, or otherwise convinced her not to fight it. Gavin had wondered if they were suggesting he’d used something stronger than alcohol, but he wanted the rest of the story more than he wanted to pursue that. Anyway, according to the witnesses, Ross and the woman had taken over the back room set aside for just such encounters.
It must have been good, one of them had joked, because Ross is still hanging with her.
When Gavin had tracked her down, the girl had looked to him to be not even old enough to drink, which he supposed said more about his jaded state than anything. She’d been shy about sharing details, but finally admitted she’d been too drunk to remember much, but was grateful Ross had made sure she got home after the party ended in the wee hours. And that was why she’d agreed to see him again the next day and then the day after that, until, she said with a genuine blush, they were apparently a thing.
He believed them. All of them. Believed they were telling the truth. At least as far as they knew. Which didn’t bode well for Steven Moore. And just how would Katie feel if he ended up proving her father guilty instead of innocent?
He was in no way ready to face that possibility yet. He could have headed back to Foxworth tonight—well, yesterday, really since it was after midnight now—but he had opted to stay, telling himself he wanted to go over everything once more. It had nothing to do with staying away from Katie one more night. And asking Quinn, when he’d spoken to him this afternoon, to pass along that the alibis indeed seemed solid had nothing to do with him not wanting to talk to her.
Nothing at all.
He downed the last of his coffee in a gulp, then stood. He picked up the bill, glanced at the total, doubled it for the tip and dropped cash on the table. He paused long enough to thank the observant and efficient waiter, then headed out into the chilly night air. After the warmth of the diner it felt like a slap in the face.
Just what he needed.
Chapter 29
Katie took a last look at the public meeting room on Friday to be sure they’d gotten all the Halloween decorations. They hadn’t gotten to it until this morning, but nobody had seemed to mind the decorations lingering for a couple of days. But there was a community meeting scheduled here tonight, so she made sure every last ghost had been vanquished.
Except for that one floating around in your head. The one named Gavin.
She shook her head sharply. She saw Heather approaching, and felt a twinge at what probably was showing in her face. To head off any questions from her too observant friend, she spoke first.
“Why don’t you take off? I can finish up here, and you can go get your kids.”
“Last patron just left, so thank you, I will.” But undeterred, she added, “I was hoping you’d have a hot date tonight. Where is that gorgeous man, anyway?”
Gone. A couple of kisses and he ran like hell.
“Never mind,” Heather said, her eyes lighting up as she looked past Katie toward the glass doors. “He’s here.”
Katie sucked in a breath she was sure was audible, and barely stopped herself from spinning around to look.
“You have fun,” her friend said archly. “Lord knows I would, with that man. As much and as fast as I could get it.”
And then she was gone. Katie heard her say something, no doubt to him, because it was in that light, flirty voice she could turn on like a spigot. Katie still hadn’t turned to look. Instead she made a last, unnecessary circuit of the meeting room, then carefully—very, very carefully—closed the door and locked it. And then, the keys clutched so tightly in her hand her knuckles were white, she turned around.
He looked like hell. At least, as much as he could. His hair looked windblown, as if he’d driven all the way back from Tacoma with the window down. He was clean shaven, but she noticed a nick on his left jawline, as if he’d gotten too rushed or heavy-handed with the razor. His eyes were a bit bloodshot, and he looked beyond weary. As if he hadn’t slept the entire time he’d been gone.
She’d intended to not say anything, to make him say the first words, because she had no idea where things stood between them. But when he just stared at her, she finally broke, with a wry acknowledgment that she’d been foolish to think she could outmaneuver the man who’d tricked serial killers into confessions. But the only words that she could manage were the ones she’d already thought.
“You look like hell.”
His expression didn’t change. “And you look incredible. As always.” Only then did his mouth quirk upward at one corner, in that way he had. “Even if you do look like you want to throw those keys at me.”
Since there were several keys on the ring run through a large wooden carving of an evergreen, that would definitely hurt.
“Hadn’t occurred to me, but thanks for the suggestion.”
Something in his gaze shifted then. “No, it wouldn’t, would it.” It wasn’t a question. “You don’t live in that kind of world.”
“I don’t have that kind of nature,” she corrected. “And aren’t you out of that kind of world now?”
“I am,” he said quietly. “But sometimes I forget. Both that that’s not my world anymore, and that there are people who really are what they seem. People who are good and honest and true, as Hayley says.”
“Hayley is wise.”
“Yes. And I—as she told me in no un
certain terms this afternoon—am an idiot.”
Katie’s eyebrows rose. She would have liked to have seen that exchange. “And what brought on that assessment?”
He drew in a deep breath and then let it out as he gave a rueful grimace. “You.”
Katie blinked. She hadn’t expected that.
“And Cutter,” he added, confusing her even more. “It seems I’m trying to avoid the inevitable.”
“Which is?”
“You,” he repeated.
She’d been called a thing or two in her life, but never inevitable. She wasn’t sure how to take that.
“He’s outside, by the way. He let me go to Tacoma on my own, but apparently that’s as far as my leash goes.”
She couldn’t help but smile at that.
“It’s probably cold out there,” he said. “And about to rain.”
“He’s got a lot of fur.”
His mouth quirked again. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“I’m not even sure what ‘this’ is.”
He sucked in another breath. “This,” he said, “is me apologizing.”
“Wow. You need some practice.”
He let out the breath audibly. “Yeah.”
“Apologizing for what?”
“Kissing and running.”
She hadn’t expected him to admit that. “So why did you?”
“I had to...wrestle with something.” He held her gaze now. “Like how you would feel if it ends up I help to prove your father guilty instead of innocent.”
The words rocked her, made her wonder if he’d learned something down south that he hadn’t mentioned. Something she wasn’t going to like. Perhaps he’d met with the police there, and was now convinced they were on the right track.
She steadied herself before asking, “Are you speaking theoretically or specifically?”
“Theoretically.” He seemed to realize where her mind had gone. “I have nothing new or more than the police do. Which is only theory.”
She breathed again. And then she realized the full import of what he’d said. He’d kissed her. Twice. Had clearly wanted more. But instead he had vanished because he was worried about how she’d feel if he ended up being the one who proved the police right.
From the safety of her certainty of her father’s innocence, she was thoroughly touched. She wondered if he even realized what his actions revealed.
She did realize what her reaction revealed. She’d turned to mush inside so fast it was impossible to deny. And even knowing she was setting herself up for heartbreak—because he would leave, she knew that—she couldn’t walk away from this.
She spoke words she’d never expected to say to him. “Come home with me.”
The breath he sucked in was audible. She saw in his eyes, his face, that he knew exactly what she was saying.
She might regret this. Probably would.
But she would regret not doing it even more.
* * *
He still liked her place.
He followed her in, looked around once more. It felt more like a home than any place he’d ever lived, including his loft now. That was just the place he went when he wasn’t working. This was a place he could see spending time not doing anything in particular. A place he could see just relaxing. Or working through a list of things to keep it in shape.
Or sleeping in, wrapped around Katie?
Oh, yeah. He could see that.
He ordered his body to calm down as he shrugged off his jacket. Now that it seemed he was going to get what he’d wanted from the moment he’d opened Quinn’s door to her, it was a lot more difficult.
Besides, she could still change her mind. She’d seemed eager enough when she’d suggested her place. It was closer, she’d said, and there was a drugstore on the way for...a certain purchase. The mere mention of protection had her blushing and him fighting down a wave of renewed heat.
He wouldn’t blame her if she was just avoiding Foxworth; for all the homey atmosphere it was still a workplace and only temporarily his place.
His train of thought derailed as something else hit him. She’d chosen to let him into her home, her sanctuary, where she’d come to rebuild a life shattered by a tragedy no one should have to endure. He’d never had the feelings some people had for the place they lived, but he’d dealt with people who had, and understood it. And suddenly it seemed imperative that he let her know.
“Katie.”
She turned, tossing her own jacket beside his on the back of the chair closest to the door. Somehow even that little act seemed significant.
She busied herself with Cutter for a moment, asking, with apparent seriousness, if he would prefer the couch or a blanket on the floor. His answer was to hop on the couch and curl up as if settling in.
Finally, she turned back to Gavin. As she stood there looking up at him, those blue eyes wide, her expression a combination of anticipation and nerves with a touch of wariness, he felt a jab of nerves himself.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
She laughed, and the nerves were in the sound of it. “Are you sure you should be giving me a chance for second thoughts?”
“I’m sure I would be sorrier if you end up regretting this.”
She smiled then. It was steadier, the tension retreating. “I thought about that. I know you’ll be gone soon. But I decided because I would regret passing this up even more. This...kind of feeling doesn’t come along every day.”
“No,” he said fervently, “it doesn’t.”
He was past worrying about what that implied. And his body had had enough of being patient.
Tough. You’re going to go slow and easy. This is Katie, and she deserves that.
“I’m a little rusty at this,” he said, afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep that vow.
She looked him up and down, and there was such pure appreciation in her expression he felt humbled. “Not,” she said, reaching out to trace his jawline with one finger, “from lack of opportunity, I’m sure.”
It was true. But he was honest enough with himself to understand why, that many of those opportunities stemmed from his reputation, status or just his looks, and were shallow, momentary things.
Katie Moore was anything but shallow.
“Lack of interest,” he said.
She smiled. For a long moment he just stood there, staring at her, his blood pulsing so hard and fast he could hear it in his ears. Then he heard a rustle of movement as Cutter vacated the couch. In the next instant he felt a not insignificant shove at the back of his knees as the dog leaned into him. He had to take a step to keep his balance.
And just that easily he and Katie were pushed together. For a split second all the stories he’d heard of the dog’s matchmaking shot through his mind, but then Katie was in his arms and it was gone. Everything was gone except the feel of her, the warmth of her, and this damned aching need that he realized now had been growing every moment since he’d met her.
He’d meant to kiss her softly, gently, as he’d vowed. But the moment his lips touched hers, that went out the window. She was too sweet, too hot, too entrancing to go slowly. And she was kissing him back. Hotly, fiercely, destroying the last remnant of his determination. What had come before was nothing, a mere spark: this was a conflagration.
He ran his hands down her back, pressed her closer, needing as much contact between them as he could get. She arched against him, and he felt her hands against his chest, not pushing away but stroking, as if she were tracing him. When he finally broke the kiss, only because he needed to breathe, they were in the hallway off the living room. He hadn’t even been aware of moving. Which told him how far gone he was.
“Katie,” he began, but stopped, with no idea left in his head
of what he wanted to say beyond her name.
“Gavin,” she said back at him, as if she felt the same. And he realized that it was all that mattered, that nothing more was needed but that heartfelt calling to each other.
It was the last coherent thought he had because she took his hand and led him to her bedroom. He barely noticed the room he’d never been in, because she began to unbutton the silky blouse she wore, one of those that managed to look businesslike yet incredibly sexy.
The moment the blue material separated over her breasts, revealing them nestled in a matching bra trimmed with delicate lace, he was lost. He could think of nothing but the fire inside him that had erupted into an inferno, hot, wild, demanding. And he was kissing her again, urgently, and when her lips parted beneath his he swiped over them with his tongue, amazed that a kiss could be so sweet.
He probed deeper, and the sweetness became a honeyed fire that threatened to consume him. He caressed her breasts through the bra, but it wasn’t enough and he clawed at the straps to pull the lace out of his way. Then he cupped that soft flesh and it rounded into his hands as if made for them. She moaned softly, and it fired his blood even more. He was mad, mindless, and it was a place he’d never been before.
He didn’t realize how mindless until his gasp for breath broke the kiss and he saw that not only was she naked to the waist, but his own shirt was unbuttoned and half off. And then he felt her hands moving down from his chest over his abdomen, stroking, her fingers leaving little trails of heat and fiery sensation everywhere they moved.
It was more than he could bear. He moved suddenly, picking her up and going down to the bed with her. He pulled off the rest of her clothes, felt her tugging on his and did everything he could to help, short of letting go of her. Finally they were pressed together knees to lips, skin against skin. He couldn’t touch her enough, stroke her enough. He wanted to learn every precious inch of this woman who had reached him so quickly, in ways no other ever had.
When she began to caress him in turn, he nearly forgot to breathe. Every touch stoked the fire that was already beyond bearing. He rolled her beneath him, groaning aloud at the feel of her, and again at the way she seemed to welcome his weight. And when her hands slipped down to cup his backside, her name and an oath broke from him in one breath.
Operation Notorious Page 18