Key West

by Stella Cameron

  Billy had heard more than enough about her shortcomings. Sonnie was a boor, had always been a boor, but she never missed an opportunity to wield a little power. “Your lover’s coming back,” she said, taking in Talon’s loose-limbed walk, the swing of his broad shoulders, the way his jeans fit narrow hips and long, muscular legs. All that with mousy little Baby? She didn’t think so. Not without a real good motive, and it wouldn’t be sex.

  When he drew close, two glasses in one hand and one in the other, she waited for him to notice she was watching him, then sent him the kind of smile no man failed to interpret. She hooked an elbow over the back of her chair and crossed her legs.

  He nodded.

  Nodded.

  Baby had found herself a thickheaded bike jockey who was too busy thinking about the way he looked to notice anyone else.

  He arrived, set down the glasses, and passed them out. Billy put her fingers over his on her glass and said, “Thank you, Chris. Are you here every night?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, and drank what looked like single-malt whiskey. “How’s the sherry, Sonnie?”

  “Good, thanks.”

  Billy swung her leg and sized Talon up from head to foot. He could be a problem. As of now she was certain he was the obstacle standing in her way of making sure Sonnie did whatever she was told to do.

  “The Grand Marnier’s good, too, thanks,” Billy said, checking her watch, “but I’ve got to go. I’ve had the car waiting all this time and I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. Chris, it’s a real pleasure to get to know you better. Thank you for taking care of Sonnie. She isn’t good on her own.”

  If Talon noticed the abrupt change in her attitude toward him, he didn’t show it. She got up and retied the scarf more tightly. Then she kissed Sonnie’s cheek. Passing Talon’s chair, she put a hand on each of his very nice shoulders and bent to whisper in his ear, “I like a kind man.” She really liked a man who smelled like the wind and looked—and felt—as if he were made of steel. “You don’t have to spend time with a victim and we both know it. But I’m thanking you for that. I’d like to talk to you about how you think she is. I’ll call you.”

  Without giving him a chance to respond, she waved to them both and hurried a block outside to the Cadillac with its black tinted windows. The driver pushed open the door and she slid into the buttery ivory leather interior and into open arms.

  Twelve

  Chris anticipated Sonnie’s next question, and she didn’t disappoint him. “What did Billy just say to you?”

  He raised a brow. “Your sister wanted to thank me for spending time with you.” The anger he saw in Sonnie didn’t disappoint him.

  She said, “Billy has trouble with her bitch factor.”

  He laughed, delighted at her show of spirit. “ I’d say that’s an understatement. You two are sure different.”

  “l’m like my mother. Billy’s like hers. Daddy’s been married twice. Actually Billy and I are both like Daddy in a way. Why didn’t you want me to let Billy know I’ve found out about Jim Lesley?”

  He lifted her glass from the table and held it to her lips, raising it until she was forced to take a sip.

  “Medicinal,” he said, passing the pad of his forefinger along her bottom lip, then placing it between his own lips and mumbling, “Tastes nice—nice medicine.”

  She started to speak, but seemed to forget what she’d been about to say. lnstead she looked from his eyes to his mouth, then down to his chest where his shirt rested open for a long way.

  Sonnie made his belly grow tight—and other parts of him equally tight. Ms. Billy Keith thought she knew all about sex appeal. She’d missed just about every wonderful subtlety that had all the power over anything obvious. Her sister used them unconsciously.

  “Sonnie?”

  “Yes?” She raised her face and looked at him fully.

  “Do you understand me when I say I think we’d better try to stay focused?”

  “I do,” she said quietly. “None of the rest of it’s appropriate, is it?”

  “Maybe not. But maybe. We’ll have to find out—won’t we?”

  She passed a hand beneath her collar. “I don’t know.”

  Slim she might be, but when the bush shirt pulled tight over a breast, there was no doubt that a small, shapely body could be the kind of turn-on that made concentration a feat.

  “You didn’t answer me about Jim Lesley.”

  He looked around and got a sudden, uneasy feeling that he was getting sloppy about where he said what. “I think we should go somewhere we can be sure we won’t be overheard.”

  Sonnie frowned.

  “Don’t get scared. It’s just a precaution. We could go to my place if you’re okay with that.”

  For several seconds a battery of expressions passed through her eyes. She wasn’t sure she should be okay with going to his place with him, alone. She also wasn’t sure she didn’t like the idea quite a lot—or maybe he was stretching a bit there.

  “Sure,” she said finally. “Of course. That’ll be fine.”

  He got up at once and held her chair while she joined him. When he ushered Sonnie ahead of him toward the back door, the patrons were sunk deep into a philosophical moment—mumbling comments about nothing in particular. But both Roy and Bo looked at Sonnie and Chris—while they tried not to look.

  Chris reached around Sonnie and pushed open the door. She stepped outside and he followed her into a night with a rising wind, and moisture in the air.

  “I like it here at this time of year,” he said conversationally. “You’re never sure of anything—except the heat.”

  “I’ve already told you I find it exciting.”

  “Watch where you step. There’s not much light. Hold my hand.”

  Her cool fingers slipped against his palm and he gripped them.

  He unlocked the guest house, flipped on an overhead light inside, and pulled her in behind him. Once he’d shot home the bolt behind them, he replaced the glaring ceiling light with a lamp that stood on the floor.

  “Your bike’s pretty,” she said, surprising him. “Or elegant, I guess I should say.”

  “Thanks. We were partners a long time. Made us pretty close. You left most of your sherry. I think I’ve got something close. Like some?”

  She hunched her shoulders and hesitation furrowed her brow.

  “Good,” he said. “Coming up.” He poured a small quantity of cherry brandy. He’d have to make sure he had sherry next time.

  That thought wasn’t something he cared to analyze beyond the fact that he liked the lady, had begun to feel comfortable with her, and would be more than happy if she stopped by for a drink from time to time.

  Oh, right. Maybe he should find out if it was too late to become a Boy Scout, too.

  He gave her the drink and swallowed some of his own whiskey.

  She hovered. “You hover a lot,” he said. “Do you know that?”

  Sonnie stood still. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Take the best chair, please.”

  “It’s the only chair—apart from the stool in front of the computer.”

  ‘Exactly, the best chair, and it’s yours.’’ He patted the back.

  She sat down, looked up at him. “Thank you.”

  They studied each other a little longer than was necessary. He shouldn’t be allowing any of this to happen. She wasn’t the type to be comfortable with getting close to another man while she didn’t know what had happened to her husband. Boy, would he love to ask her about him. Mostly he wanted to know if theirs had been a good, happy marriage.

  She looked away first and tasted the cherry brandy. “Hmm. That’s lovely.”

  “Glad you like it.” He took his customary spot on the corner of the Murphy bed. “I may have to think about hiring an interior designer for this place.”

  She laughed aloud at that, then sputtered and put a hand over her mouth.

  “It’s okay,” he told her. “That was meant to be a jo
ke. But I may have to at least make things a little more inviting.” He was grateful she didn’t immediately ask why.

  “Okay, let’s get to business. I stopped you from letting Billy know I found out about Jim Lesley. The simplest explanation is that I don’t believe in playing any potential winning cards too soon.”

  She bowed her head, then looked sideways and up at him with her so very dark blue eyes.

  And Chris remembered his hand on her breast while she slept. When he’d realized what he’d done he’d been disoriented, and intensely excited at the same time. He could remember the texture of her skin, the way her nipple had been hard against his palm. Her skin was soft; her flesh was firm—and as far as he was concerned, the quantity of that flesh was perfect.

  His jeans weren’t comfortable anymore.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I owe you an apology. While you were sleeping and I was sitting beside you, I ended up with my hand on…on your breast. Instinct, I suppose. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.”

  Her lips parted and he saw her struggle for breath.

  “I must have done it in my sleep, and you felt so right, I stayed right there.”

  “Yes,” she murmured. Her neck and face had turned red. “I’m sure those things can happen.”

  “I’m sorry, Sonnie.”

  “It’s okay.” She cleared her throat. “You think Billy’s the one whose doing bad things to me. I don’t. I think she’s too obvious a suspect. The whole setup would be too obvious. And I don’t think she’d really try to hurt me—not so vindictively— not when the chips were down.”

  “Well, well, you beat me to the punch. I’m thinking along the same lines. I wasn’t sure how to approach it with you in case you panicked because we don’t have much else yet.”

  “We,” she said, cocking her head on one side.

  He didn’t respond to that.

  “Billy has money troubles,” she continued. “She went through her trust and she’s had to go to work in the family business, which she hates. She’s just angry because Ι haven’t had her problems in that direction.”

  “Maybe she’s angry enough to be figuring out a way to get her hands on your money. I’m just playing devil’s advocate here.”

  “She might think about it,” Sonnie said, “but she wouldn’t do it.”

  “So how would you explain her boyfriend?”

  She considered before saying, “Just as a boyfriend. He’s attractive, and she’s always been drawn to men who are well connected. Men with good positions. She married duds twice, but she’s dated a lot of potential winners. The fact that he’s a psychiatrist could be just a coincidence.”

  “Maybe. We’re going to have to keep an open mind until something else happens, anyway.”

  Sonnie looked at him sharply. Her pupils dilated. He’d spooked her again.

  “Try to keep calm. You aren’t on your own.”

  Her eyes softened a little. “Do you mean you will help me officially?”

  “That’s all you care about?” And that was absolutely the last thing he should have said “Getting my help?”

  She shook her head. “All I care about?”

  “You don’t feel anything.” Sometimes clearing the air was a good, if dangerous, idea.

  “I don’t understand” She looked puzzled. “Feel?”

  “Forget it.”

  “No. I feel, Chris. What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. You’re convalescing. You should be at home in bed.”

  “Ι’m not convalescing. Still mending, maybe—and scars take time. But as far as I’m concerned, I’m past convalescence.”

  He swirled his drink and watched the pale liquor catch the light. He could smell its fine, pungent aroma. He felt Sonnie get up. She stood beside him.

  Pushing back his hair, he looked up at her. He thought he saw a woman poised between wanting to flee and wanting to stay. Not sure what to expect, he pressed a hand to her stomach. Flat and instantly tense at his touch. Setting his drink aside to grip her hips came naturally. He smoothed his thumbs up and down the dips in front of each bone.

  She pressed her elbows to her sides and held the glass with both hands.

  “Stand closer,” he told her, and eased her between his thighs.

  She raised her arms higher, as if to protect herself.

  “Relax.” Why did he sound threatening, even to himself? “Say the word, and I’ll put some space between us.”

  Sonnie didn’t say the word.

  He felt a fine tremor where he held her.

  Chris slipped a hand around to the small of her back and rubbed his fingers back and forth. He took her glass and set it aside, then traced the scars on her face and neck. “They’re fading,” he said, and smiled. “If you were a man you’d probably think they added to your sex appeal.”

  She pursed her lips.

  “Geez,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, men and women look at their own scars differently. I’m so grateful you were thrown out of that car.”

  “Are you?” Now she even sounded shaky.

  Later he was going to wonder what he’d thought he was doing here. Later. “I’d have hated not to meet you, Sonnie. You make me feel calm.”

  “You’re a strange man. Being around a woman whose skating a fine line herself makes you feel calm?”

  “Yeah,” he said, and knew his response was belligerent. “Yeah, it does. With you. I’ve skated that line, too. That’s how I got here. Everything I believed in blew up in my face. In a way I crashed and burned. Maybe I should rethink that comment. Ι lost my focus; then I dropped out. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to step back in again.”

  “It’s easier to give up than it is to fight,” she said quietly. “But if we all give up, what then?”

  “I don’t know. Or maybe I do and I don’t want to think about it. I’m lucky; I’ve got Roy, and he never lets me forget I owe him. Gives me some focus. Why are we getting so deep here?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re being polite. You know I started it.”

  “I need a friend, too.”

  Α friend. She needed a friend—preferably one with investigative skills—to help her. “You need a friend you can trust,” he said. “But I don’t appeal to you.”

  Instantly he felt her stiffen. She looked at her hands, then slowly set them along each side of his head. Her serious eyes regarded him so intently, he swallowed and heard the sound.

  He didn’t resist, didn’t want to resist when she pulled his face against her and gently stroked his hair. “Is this what you mean?” she asked. “You don’t think I’ve thought of holding you, and of being held by you?”

  “I guess.” His face rested on her ribs. She smelled faintly of lemons.

  “Υοu do appeal to me, but you shouldn’t. And I shouldn’t do anything about it anyway.”

  “You feel so good. I’m not—” No, he would not tell her he was more muddled than he remembered being, ever. “Can it be dangerous for us to find some peace with each other? Some comfort?”

  She moved in closer and massaged his shoulders. When he made to raise his head, she pushed it to her again. “Υou know the answers to your questions,” she told him. “It’s dangerous, Chris.”

  “Do you care?”

  One of her knees pressed where he might like it to press, but not where it did anything to help him think clearly.

  “Do you care if this is dangerous, Sonnie?”

  “I don’t want to analyze what I feel, or what I think. It would take too long to tell you all about my marriage. And even if it wouldn’t, I’m not ready. This is strange. You and I don’t match. At least, I don’t think we do. You’re a man who should be with someone…someone like Billy, I guess.”

  He put both of his arms around her and hugged. “Oh, no. Shows what lousy instincts you’ve got. I know my type, and she’s not it. You are.” Maybe if he’d met her…if he’d met her years ago, she’d hav
e been too young for him, and he wouldn’t have been ready for her.

  “So strange,” she murmured. “Frank was—is a good-looking man, but I know why he chose me. What he needed in a woman—no, a wife—was different from what he needed…”

  When she didn’t finish what she’d begun, he let her be. He could figure out the rest on his own. Frank Giacano’s reputation with women was a legend all its own. Chris held her even tighter.

  She held him firmly, yet gently.

  “You need comfort,” he said. “That’s what this is all about. I can give you that, so take it.”

  She leaned away enough to urge his face up. Her first kiss skimmed his forehead softly. Before his eyes had completely closed, her lips touched his. When he could think straight again, he’d tell her that any man who didn’t find her sexy was beyond help. She opened his mouth slightly, passed the tip of her tongue along the underside of his upper lip, and breathed in an uneven rhythm that made him sweat.

  Chris pulled the bottom of her shirt out of her pants and smoothed her skin. He felt the raised edges of intersecting scars, and she froze with her mouth fused to his.

  He removed his hands and held her upper arms instead.

  He’d be happy to die with this kiss on his lips. He didn’t want it to stop.

  It didn’t stop, but Chris knew the instant she felt how hard he was. Gripping his shoulders, she dug in her fingertips and was careful to keep her legs still.

  When she paused for breath and he could see her face and her blush, he said, “Sorry about that,” and grimaced.

  She said, “ I’m not sorry, but I don’t know what to do about it.”

  He didn’t feel like laughing, but he laughed just the same. Time to do some kissing of his own. With a hand behind her neck, he kissed her hard enough to be pretty sure she wasn’t thinking what she should do about anything. And while he kissed her, he undid her shirt and tucked his fingers into the cups of her bra. A little skin to skin in there and she forgot to hold still. If he didn’t want to forget himself altogether, he’d better be careful.