by Ana Barrons
“Better move your hand if you don’t want the door slammed on it.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Scott said, his hand still resting on top of the door, “you’ve got great taste in women. I’d do her myself, as long as I didn’t have to marry her.”
Gabe slammed the door and peeled away from the curb before he gave into the temptation to ram his fist into Scott’s face.
* * *
After Tom fell asleep, Michael poured himself a scotch on the rocks and carried it into the darkened living room, where he sipped at it thoughtfully. Gabe Hugo puzzled him. There was something between him and Kate, he’d bet his life on it. Hugo’s behavior was more like that of an angry lover than an objective police detective. “I wonder if he realizes it,” he mused aloud.
He heard the key twisting in the front door, and a moment later Archer’s light tread coming up behind him. He frowned. In the best of times, sharing a town house with Archer was like living with twins, one of which was funny and intelligent and the other brooding, demanding, self-centered. Michael had expected some form of sympathy from his former lover in the aftermath of Drew’s death, but Archer’s repertoire was limited to repeated attempts to divert his attention, or “cheer him up.” Interestingly, if it were Archer who’d died, he imagined Drew’s reaction would have been similar.
Michael had loved working with Drew—had actually believed himself in love with Drew for several years, before Kate came along and Drew swooped in and married the poor girl while her head was still spinning with grief. He could be extraordinarily persuasive when he put his mind to it. One of their colleagues had joked that Drew Franklin could persuade a polar bear to buy a condo in Miami. All he had to do was convince the bear that he understood perfectly what he was going through and knew exactly what he needed.
Of course, Drew had never really understood a thing about the needs or desires of others. And he certainly couldn’t relate to their pain.
Archer’s strong hands worked Michael’s neck. Damn it, why couldn’t he leave him alone? That part of their relationship was over.
“I need a few minutes alone... To think,” Michael said.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
“Just wondering what a sweet, intelligent woman like Kate Franklin sees in a cowboy like Gabe Hugo.”
“What makes you ask that?”
“He stopped by here earlier to ask me some questions.”
“So...Kate and Detective High-Strung are involved romantically?” Archer asked.
“Apparently.”
“Well, well,” Archer said, warming to the subject. “It’s not a surprise, is it? I mean, who wouldn’t like all that hard male flesh? I bet he’s hung like a stallion.”
“Cute,” Michael said. He should be beyond jealousy with Archer, but some habits died hard. He eased his neck out from between Archer’s hands and went back to sipping his drink.
Archer dropped into a wing chair beside him. “What did he want?”
“Well, I dropped off the food this morning, like you suggested,” Michael said. “And then, I don’t know, something happened to Kate and now he thinks I spiked the Italian soda with Q.”
Archer dismissed that bit of information with that incredibly annoying little wave of his hand, the one he used whenever the problem was Michael’s and not his own. “That’s bullshit. Q doesn’t leave any trace. And besides, if anybody did spike her soda it was probably him. He was the last one with her.”
“How did you know that?”
“Know what?”
“That Hugo was the last person with her?”
“He showed up right before I left her house today.”
“You massaged her today?” Michael asked. “I didn’t know.” Then why hadn’t he brought over the food himself? He released a long breath. This was exactly the kind of thing that had destroyed their sexual relationship. Archer’s need for secrecy made intimacy impossible. Most of what he hid were little things. The times he’d come home late and made up an excuse about where he’d been, when he’d really only gone to a movie. Clicking off screens on his laptop the second Michael walked into the room. Text messages he said were from his mother, when Michael knew damn well he was lying. Thank goodness they’d been able to part amicably.
“You got the soda at Balducci’s, right?” he asked Archer now.
“Hmm? Yeah, I think so. Either that or Trader Joe’s. Is she okay?”
A frisson of unease tickled Michael’s brain. “How can you not remember where you got it? You bought it—”
“I bought the salads this morning,” Archer said. “I got the soda a while back.”
Michael frowned. “I never saw it. Where was it?”
“Why are you giving me the third degree about a bottle of grapefruit soda, for God’s sake?”
Michael set his glass down, then rubbed at his eyes to keep from exploding. How many times had they had stupid arguments just like this one? Well, they weren’t partners any longer, they were roommates, and he wasn’t going to get sucked back into that unhealthy dynamic. Finally, he stood. “Good night.”
“You didn’t tell me about Kate,” Archer said. “Is she okay?”
“She’s in the hospital, that’s all I know.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” Michael walked around the coffee table to avoid getting too close. Upstairs a warm, easygoing, uncomplicated government accountant lay asleep in his bed. He didn’t even glance at Archer, didn’t want to remember what it was like when they’d shared a bed, all the passion and the heat and...the darkness. There was a darkness in Archer that alternately frightened him and thrilled him.
As Michael passed him, Archer grasped his hand. “Michael.”
No. Michael knew that tone, felt its power all the way to his groin. No, he wouldn’t give in. Not again. Tom was a nice guy, a considerate lover, maybe he could be something more. He wouldn’t get caught in Archer’s web.
“I think you need me tonight.” That deep voice promised hot mouths and deep, hard penetration. Exquisite pain.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Michael said, but his voice was already husky with desire. It was too late and they both knew it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gabe collected Kate from the hospital under close scrutiny from the staff. The nurse asked her repeatedly, as though she were a moron, whether she was certain she wanted to leave with him. It was clear by the matron’s body language and glowering looks that she considered Gabe no better than Jack the Ripper. Kate seemed oblivious of the innuendo, and was relieved to see him. The smile she gave him when he stepped into her room was bright and hopeful. She believed in him. She was happy to see him.
Gabe’s gut performed some complex acrobatics when she turned that trusting face to him. He identified guilt, and regret, and a healthy dose of fear. What if he let her down again? But enveloping all the other feelings was a powerful surge of honest-to-God joy. He was doing what he should have done all those years ago—supporting her. Granted, when Steve died his guilt and grief had rendered him virtually unable to support anyone beyond his mother, and her just barely. But he had cut Kate off as though she were a stranger, which, he now understood, had compounded her grief over Steve’s death.
When Gabe got her down to the lobby in the requisite wheelchair, Jeremy jumped up from the couch in the lobby and ran over to her. Gabe turned to Kate as Jeremy approached and saw the sparkle in her eyes. She could be his mother, he thought, she loves him so much.
Had she been pregnant with his brother or sister?
“Let me push her!” Jeremy said, and elbowed Gabe out of the way.
They were nearly to the door when Ben walked into the lobby. He shot Gabe a curious glance, smiled at Jeremy and bent down to kiss Kate on the cheek. Then he held out a hand to her good one and helped her out of the wheelchair. Gabe felt a sharp stab of jealousy at the look in the other man’s eyes when he held her in his arms. Ben figured his wife had been screwing Drew Franklin, wh
ich was likely the death knell for their marriage. Over the years they’d been friends Gabe had often wondered whether Ben felt the same desire for Kate he felt. Joy was an attractive woman, true, but she had never been as effortlessly kind and down-to-earth as her friend.
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Kate said in response to something Ben had said too quietly for Gabe to hear.
“Dad and I will take good care of her, Uncle Ben,” Jeremy said. “Dad’s going to help me make macaroni and cheese for her. Hey, you want to come over and have some too?”
Ben shot Gabe another look, a darker one this time, and said, “That’s not a bad idea. I can’t remember the last time I had homemade mac and cheese. If it’s okay with Kate.”
“Of course it is,” she said.
Ben followed Gabe back to the house, and ran to open Kate’s door before Gabe or Jeremy could get to it. Then he took her arm and walked her inside, chatting quietly with her. Something hard and ugly was growing in Gabe’s gut and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Do you need a nap?” Ben asked her when they got inside.
Kate turned to Jeremy and smiled. “Not when I’ve got some time with this guy,” she said, then turned her gaze to Gabe and held it, letting him know he was included in that last statement. “I can sleep later. And besides, I feel fine now.”
Jeremy tugged at Gabe’s arm. “Let’s go make the food, Dad, I’m starving.”
Gabe didn’t want to leave Kate alone with Ben. She must have realized it, because she said, “Yeah, let me go get the ingredients,” and preceded them into the kitchen. Jeremy was right on her heels. Gabe started to follow but Ben put a hand on his arm.
“A word?” he said.
Gabe looked at the hand and said quietly, “Sure, when you take your fucking hand off me.”
“In the living room,” Ben said.
Inside the living room Gabe crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Ben to speak. Ben’s expression was as angry as Gabe’s was blank. At least he hoped it was.
“I want to know what the hell you’re up to,” Ben said. “She’s hurt, she’s vulnerable and she adores Jeremy. If you’re playing on that to get close so you can set her up, I swear to God, I will personally make your life a living hell.”
“Since when are you a fucking knight in shining armor?” Gabe asked. Ben’s gaze slid away for just a moment, enough to show that the comment had rattled him. Interesting.
“This is the perfect entrée into her home,” Ben went on as though Gabe hadn’t spoken. “Bring Jeremy over, act all solicitous, like you actually give a shit about her, and then move around freely, trying to get the goods on her.”
“Are you finished?” Gabe asked, affecting boredom. “Because I’ve got some mac and cheese to make in the kitchen. Although I’m not sure she has the ingredients for four.”
“We saw what she went through after Steve’s death,” Ben said, his anger growing increasingly visible. “That’s why Joy introduced her to Drew, to offer her some diversion. We didn’t know she was going to fall for him the way she did.”
Gabe’s jaw clenched involuntarily, and he struggled to keep his cool.
“She spent a lot of time with us because she could talk about Steve. She couldn’t spend time around your family, even though she wanted to, because you made it clear she wasn’t welcome.” Ben stepped closer. Gabe didn’t budge. “You were the one subject we learned to avoid around her. After a while she didn’t break down when we talked about Steve, but if your name came up, or we talked about a time when you were around she got a look on her face...” He trailed off, then added in a bitter tone, “Steve’s death broke her heart, but it was you that destroyed her, you bastard.”
* * *
Ben left after lunch. He hugged Kate tightly at the door, which made Gabe’s gut constrict painfully. He insisted on doing the dishes while Jeremy got into a swimsuit, and then Kate and he sat on opposite sides of the patio, watching Jeremy swim and dive. They clapped and encouraged him, but Gabe had trouble meeting Kate’s gaze. Jesus, he’d really done a number on her. If that was the only reason Ben was acting so protective toward her he could deal with it. It was the other possibility that made his skin itch and his chest hurt.
He was so fucking jealous he barely recognized himself.
“Aunt Kate, take pictures of me!”
Kate held up her bandaged arm. “It’s hard to do it one-handed, but I guess I could try.”
“Dad can do it,” Jeremy said, giving Gabe a hopeful look.
“I didn’t bring a camera,” Gabe said.
“You can use mine,” Kate said. “I mean, if you want.” Something in her eyes told him she’d picked up on his mood and didn’t know what to make of it. When would he ever learn how sensitive she was?
He rose. “Sure. Tell me where it is and I’ll go get it.”
“It’s in my bedroom. The master bedroom. Somewhere.” She started to rise. “I’ll have to look for it.”
“If you don’t mind me looking around, I can try to find it,” he said. “If I can’t find it then you can come up.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” she asked, lowering herself back to the seat.
He went up to the master bedroom, where he’d found her not so many days ago naked and bleeding. The investigation had stalled, officially at least, but he was going to find the bastard that hurt her if it was the last thing he did. He looked around on the dresser, on bookshelves and every other surface, but didn’t spot a camera. On impulse he opened the drawers in the nightstand. There was nothing in one, but in the other he found a photograph that sucked the breath right out of him.
It was old, taken when Kate and Steve were still in college, on the Georgetown campus. Steve had his arm around her—but she was looking up at Gabe, who was grinning and making horns over her head with his fingers. The edges were ragged, especially on the right side, where he stood, as though she had gripped that side harder. He sagged, photo in hand, his vision suddenly misty.
He’d been such a fool.
He put the photo back. From outside he could hear splashes and Jeremy’s excited calls to Kate. She was laughing, and he wondered how he had gone so many years without hearing that laugh. He went into the huge walk-in closet and saw that Drew’s clothes were still there, suits and shirts lined up in straight lines, shoes perfectly even beneath. On the other side were Kate’s clothes. He smiled. Her stuff was on hangers, but several items were hanging at odd angles, obviously by an owner who had better things to do with her time than line up her shoes and leave an identical gap between each hanger.
On a shelf against the back wall he spotted a small silver digital camera in a black case, and he picked it up. He tried it and saw that the battery was charged, so he went to the French windows overlooking the pool, opened them and took some shots from that angle. He zoomed in on Kate’s face, capturing her expressions, the pride she obviously felt at each of Jeremy’s feats. At one point she looked up and spotted him, and he snapped a shot. Then he rejoined them at the pool, but this time he sat beside Kate.
“Wow, I can’t believe my camera’s in the case,” she said. “It drove my husb—” She stopped. “Drew was always bugging me about taking better care of it. But I always felt like a tourist with that thing, slung around my neck.”
“You always were a bit, shall we say, free-spirited with your belongings,” Gabe said, grinning.
She smiled at him, and lust sucker punched him in the gut. For a moment he stopped breathing and simply gazed at her. She was a little pale, and he knew she had to be tired, but she looked...happy.
“You love having Jeremy here,” he said quietly.
It took her a moment to answer. “I love having both of you here.”
He swallowed and took some more shots of Jeremy in the pool—and noticed that his son’s lips were blue and he was shivering. “Okay, out for a while, sport,” he yelled. “You’re turning blue.”
“Aw, Dad, I’m okay.”
“Out
.”
“One more dive.”
“Out.”
“Aw.”
Kate got up and grabbed a big fluffy beach towel, and wrapped Jeremy in it one-armed as soon as he got out of the pool. The boy leaned into her and she held him close, rubbing his back. She turned to Gabe and her eyes told him something he was afraid to let himself believe.
“Let’s look at the pictures,” Jeremy said. “Can we download them on your computer, Aunt Kate?”
She held up her arm. “You or your dad will have to do the honors.”
“You know how, Dad.”
“Which computer?” Gabe asked, rising. All he wanted in that moment was to pull Kate into one of those empty rooms and kiss her senseless. As though she could read his mind she licked her lips.
“The one in the office has a bigger screen than that little PowerBook of yours,” Jeremy said.
“Never make fun of my Mac,” she warned in a gruff voice that made Jeremy laugh. “We can’t use the office computer because I don’t know the password.”
“Your laptop’s right inside,” Gabe said, then turned to Jeremy. “But you’re wet.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Kate and Jeremy said at the same time, then laughed. Kate held up her good hand and Jeremy went to slap her a high five but it missed by a mile.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Jeremy explained. “I’m supposed to miss.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kate said, poking him in the shoulder. “You’re blind, admit it.”
“Miss Gimpo!”
He’d missed out on so much all these years when Jeremy had been spending quality time with Kate, bonding with her in a way he actually envied. Jeremy loved him—that much he knew—but he and Kate were buddies. Soul mates.
Jeremy ran ahead to the bathroom and Kate touched Gabe’s arm. “It’s easy to be so relaxed when you’re the aunt,” she said gently. “I don’t have the hard work of parenting. I just get to spoil him and pretend he’s mine.”
Gabe stared. She had read him so well. He reached out and rubbed his thumb over her cheek, telling her without words not only that he appreciated the gesture but that he wanted to touch her. That she meant something. It was a risk, touching her, knowing she could refuse him. She could pull away, stay clear, not set herself up for his—how did she put it? His schizy stuff. His hot and cold act. She’d lowered her lids slightly and was studying him through those thick lashes of hers.