A touch of love

by Conn, Phoebe

  Aubrey had expected the man to look like evil incarnate, but Caine's appearance was deceptively appealing. He was in his early forties, stood just under six feet tall, and had the broad shoulders and narrow hips of a bodybuilder. His dark brown hair was thick and curly, and his brown eyes alight with intelligence. Ruggedly handsome, he was dressed in a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and light gray slacks, but he could have modeled the jungle fatigues in Soldier of Fortune magazine and been completely convincing.

  Harlan flashed a charming smile, but waited until Aubrey introduced Jesse as a close friend before extending his hand. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Barrett. I'm sorry it's under such sad circumstances. I can't believe the police have had such litde success discovering what's become of the Ferrells. I don't know how many people disappear from Los Angeles each year, but the Ferrells have been sorely missed."

  Harlan had gripped her hand only briefly, but Aubrey felt a numbing chill beneath the warmth. She placed her cup on his desk and sank down into one of the deep leather chairs facing it. She reached into her purse and fumbled around, searching for her notebook. As she removed it, she switched on the tape recorder. She waited until Harlan had returned to his chair behind his desk, and then gave him a well-rehearsed opening.

  "You have the advantage here, Mr. Caine. I've never

  met the Ferrells, and it seems unlikely now that I ever will."

  "Call me Harlan, please." He picked up a paperclip and began tapping it on his blotter.

  "Harlan, then." Aubrey smiled shyly. She repeated her complete lack of expertise in the field of investigation, and apologized profusely for taking his valuable time. "It's just that I want to have something to report, and Lord knows, the police are stumped."

  "The crime rate appears to be soaring/' Harlan complained with a sorry shake of his head. "The police are overworked."

  "And underpaid for such dangerous work," Aubrey added. "How did you happened to meet Pete Ferrell?"

  "I'd advertised for investors, and he was among those who responded. Unfortunately the project he invested in was delayed by the downturn in the economy, and rather than the fast profit he had anticipated, he feared he faced a big loss. The fault wasn't mine, of course, but I was an easy target for his frustration. The police know he was dissatisfied with the way I was running the project, but the fact that he disappeared before it finally got underway was merely a coincidence."

  Harlan shrugged slighdy. "The construction industry can certainly get cutthroat at times, but no developer kills off his investors."

  He had stated the opinion as fact, and Aubrey nodded as though it made perfect sense. "What became of the funds Pete invested with you?"

  "I still have them. It was only a few thousand dollars, but the project will be completed soon, and all my investors will show a healthy profit. I'll just keep Pete's share, and it will continue earning interest until the courts tell me what to do with it."

  Aubrey found it difficult not to focus on the paperclip

  he was still tapping on the blotter. It made only a soft, hollow tap, but revealed he was far more nervous about speaking with her than he wished her to believe. His lips had a decidedly sensuous fullness that drew her glance to his mouth, and yet repelled her at the same time.

  Jesse left his chair to look at the drawings on display along the office walls. "You've built some spectacular projects, Mr. Caine. I did some framing when I was a kid, and I know a good design when I see it."

  "Thank you. Perhaps you'd care to visit the construction site where Pete had invested?"

  Aubrey turned to send Jesse a questioning glance, and he nodded. "Yes, I do suppose that would make my investigation look more complete," she replied. "I really appreciate your talking with me, Mr. Caine, Harlan. The next time someone presses me for a favor I can't possibly perform well, I am most definitely going to refuse. I teach the creative use of positive imagery, but I sure don't read minds and I couldn't catch a criminal unless he collapsed at my feet with a heart attack."

  Aubrey took a last sip of tea, then rose. "If you'll just give us the address of the site, we'll go right over."

  Harlan left his chair. "You'd find nothing but noise and dust today. If you're free Sunday afternoon, however, I can give you a personal tour."

  Aubrey knew it was a trap the minute he delayed the tour until Sunday, but she smiled as though she were completely charmed by the idea. "That is so nice of you, Harlan. Who knows, I may want to invest in your next project myself."

  Harlan took her hand between both of his. "Ah, you've seen through my ploy already, Ms. Glenn. Are you certain you can't read minds?"

  Aubrey had to fight the nearly overwhelming urge to yank her hand free of his confining hold, but she had never experienced a more chilling grasp. At the same time,

  his palms were sweating slightly, so the frosty feel was entirely in her mind. She forced a laugh and finally managed to pull away, but she immediately reached for Jesse's hand and held on tightly until they reached the safety of the parking lot

  "Caine was lying. He was fiddling with the paperclip for the same reason you drum your nails: we made him nervous. He was entirely too pretty, and none of it was natural. I'll bet he even perms his hair. He made my flesh crawl on sight, but shaking hands with him, well—" Jesse's disgust contorted his expression into a hostile sneer. "Tell me what you thought of him first."

  Aubrey felt dizzy and weak as though she had been forced to leave her bed during a bout of the flu. "I'd like to go home and take a shower. Caine's touch was colder than death, but his palms were sweating. I agree, we definitely made him nervous, and he had no idea who you were. I tried to appear to be too silly and disorganized to pose a threat. Still, the instant he mentioned it, I got a very bad feeling about Sunday's tour."

  4 'So did I. Come on, let's get out of here." Jesse walked Aubrey around to the passenger side of his truck and helped her in, but he did not begin to relax until they had returned to the freeway. "I can't believe Pete ever trusted Harlan Caine. He's just too damn slick. Do you suppose he's sleeping with his secretary?"

  Aubrey had been rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to remove the lingering unpleasantness of the developer's touch. "Please. I don't want to picture such a revolting possibility. Besides, he's undoubtedly too deeply in love with himself to provide much affection."

  Jesse chuckled, turned on the radio, and began to hum along with a tune by Alabama. "No," he argued after a lengthy pause. "I'll bet you Harlan is a real accomplished lover. You'd probably describe him as mechanical, but he just might thrill Rachel clear to her toes."

  "You want me to throw up in here?" Aubrey warned. She glanced into the sideview mirror and searched the traffic in the lanes behind them, but there were no Corvettes of any color.

  "I've become too adept at creative imagery to enjoy imagining that fiend doing anything more than rotting in prison, and it ought to be a small, squalid cell where he has to fight huge rats for the putrid rations."

  Jesse shot her a horrified glance. "I don't believe the criminal justice system in California allows for anything that primitive, but it's all he deserves. I was hoping a meeting with Caine wouldn't bring doubts as to his guilt, and it sure didn't. I've never had such a negative reaction to anyone before."

  "Neither have I. Which will count for absolutely nothing in court."

  "True, but it helps to know we're on the right track."

  Aubrey also trusted their gut reactions to Harlan Caine. "Do you suppose we ought to call Detective Heffley and alert her to our plans?"

  "So she can screw them up? Hell, no."

  "We'll actually have a plan by Sunday?"

  Jesse winked at her. "Of course, and a damn good one, too. Just leave everything to me."

  Still feeling slightly queasy, Aubrey was prepared to do just that for the moment. "Let's stop for lunch on the way home. I need to sit in the sunshine awhile and pretend everything's normal."

  That sounded awfully good to Je
sse, as well. "I guess I have turned your life upside down, haven't I?"

  Aubrey's smile was faint. "Inside out is more like it, but—"

  "But I'm worth it?" Jesse teased.

  "Don't push your luck, cowboy. Do you know where the Crocodile Cafe is on Lake Avenue?"

  Jesse gave it a moment's thought and then nodded. "Sure do." He was afraid the popular restaurant would be crawling with yuppies in their shirtsleeves who had escaped their stultifying office jobs for the midday meal, but the

  restaurant's clientele included women out shopping with their friends, mothers and grandmothers with small children, young couples paying more attention to each other than the menu, and men of all ages and descriptions.

  As soon as they were shown to a corner table on the patio, Jesse stretched out his legs and decided he might not move until sundown. He watched Aubrey scan the menu and hoped the place offered something more substantial than alfalfa sprout and avocado sandwiches. When he finally consulted the menu, he was astonished to find the selections among the most varied he had ever encountered.

  "I can't decide between the pizza with barbequed chicken, sausage, and pepperoni, and the oakwood grilled steak," he said. "What are you having?"

  "I'm awfully fond of their sauteed eggplant, but it's a lot for lunch, so maybe I'll just have a small Caesar salad."

  Jesse couldn't blame Aubrey for not having much appetite, but if anything, meeting Harlan Caine had given him an almost desperate desire for the energy to defeat him. When a friendly young man appeared to take their order, he chose the steak and the fresh-squeezed lemonade, while Aubrey asked for the salad and passion fruit iced tea. When the waiter left, Jesse cast an admiring glance at the blue sky.

  "The sky is always this sparkling clear in Sedona."

  The wistful note in his voice made Aubrey's heart catch in her throat. She hated to think he was eagerly looking forward to telling her good-bye and had to fortify herself with a gulp of water before she spoke. "You're anxious to go home, aren't you?"

  "I've never cared much for cities," Jesse confided easily. "There're just too many people bumping into each other on the sidewalks, and way too much noise. I guess you must like it here, though."

  "I grew up here, but I'm more often at home alone than out mingling with crowds on the streets/' Their conversation flowed easily, but while Jesse was intent upon comparing city and country living, Aubrey found herself simply studying him. He was serious one minute, then flashed a ready grin the next and began to tease her with a gende humor. His comments were endearing rather than made at her expense, and she responded with relaxed smiles.

  They broke off their conversation when their meals were served, and as Aubrey took a bite of salad, she noticed the women at a nearby table were eyeing Jesse with more than merely appreciative glances. There were exchanging giggles and hushed whispers which were clearly centered on him. Jesse, however, was intent upon eating his steak, and hadn't noticed them. Aubrey certainly wasn't going to point them out, although she knew he would enjoy their attention.

  Jesse glanced up, noted Aubrey's preoccupied frown, and felt certain he was the cause of her distress. After all, he had dumped a whole lot of trouble in her lap, and then thoughdessly made her think he was homesick. "Hey," he called sofdy. "I won't abandon you. I'm not going home until Harlan Caine's behind bars."

  Aubrey had no idea what had prompted Jesse's promise, but smiled to acknowledge it. "Don't forget the accomplice. He might be the man who drives the gold Corvette, or he might be someone else entirely. Maybe Caine has a whole string of men with more muscle than character who'll do whatever he asks. Then again, maybe Ms. McClure has talents we've not considered."

  Astonished by that possibility, Jesse sat back in his chair and wiped his mouth on his napkin. "That's good. I just considered her most obvious assets, but we ought to suspect everyone in Caine's employ. Damn. If we don't come up

  with anything new on Sunday, maybe you ought to pretend a real interest in investing with him. That might be our only way to keep going back/'

  Aubrey speared a flavorful crouton. *'Caine's an arrogant s.o.b. and he must believe he's committed the perfect crime. Still, he wouldn't have been so nervous if he didn't fear there might be a way for us to tie him to the murders.''

  "The bodies," Jesse reminded her. "You said they weren't completely burned."

  Aubrey returned his steady gaze. "It's such a lovely afternoon and the food here is delicious. I can't believe we're talking about partially cremated bodies as though we were playing a game of Clue."

  "It is gross, isn't it? Want some dessert?"

  "No. I think I'd just like to go home." Jesse arched a brow, and Aubrey found the unspoken invitation ever so much more exciting. She had every intention of glorying in the moment until she arrived home and checked her answering machine for messages. There was only one, but it was a frantic lament from her editor in New York. Aubrey played it twice and looked up to find Jesse standing at her study door.

  "Did you hear it all?" When he shook his head, she gave him the gist. "One of the tabloids ran the photo of us that appeared in the Times with some imaginative speculation as to my abilities to find missing persons. My publisher has been deluged with calls from those seeking my assistance to locate loved ones. Quite naturally my editor wants to know what's going on, but it's too late now to reach her in New York."

  Aubrey walked toward him. "This is exactly what I was afraid might happen."

  Jesse came forward to meet her. "The only thing I'm afraid of is that Harlan Caine might see it. Which tabloid was it? I'll go and get us a copy."

  Aubrey gave him the name, and as he drove away, her hopes for a romantic afternoon vanished in a mist of frustrated tears. The Ferrell case had a life of its own, and there seemed to be no way to avoid being sucked into it. She sank down into one of the brown leather chairs in her study, propped her feet on the hassock, and closed her eyes.

  Up until now, she had been successful in separating her public and private lives, but no longer distinct strands, they had become hopelessly entangled. When Jesse returned, her only consolation was that the story wasn't on the front page. She read it through hurriedly and then handed it back to him.

  "I'm surprised they didn't have your name before they went to press, but at least one of their devoted readers has to be a fan of rodeo, and will recognize you."

  "So what? I've already given Harlan Caine my name, and this story doesn't really add anything new. I'm sorry about the calls to your publisher, and the people you'll have to disappoint, but other than a bit of unwanted notoriety, this doesn't change things." He extended his hand. "Come on upstairs. Let's look for the missing pieces of ourselves, and forget about Harlan Caine for a while."

  His gesture was made with an enticing grace that promised more than Aubrey had any right to expect from a handsome cowboy who'd soon be on his way home, but she wanted him too badly to care. Tomorrow she would have to be a thoroughly professional motivational speaker, but for now, she could simply be herself, and there was nowhere she would rather be than with him.

  "Still want that shower?" Jesse asked when they reached her room.

  "Only if you'll join me." Aubrey removed her black jacket with a seductive shimmy and laughed when Jesse tore open the snaps on his shirt with a single tug. He

  moved toward her with a dancing slide as he reached for his belt buckle, and it was difficult to recall how quickly she had panicked when he had made the same gesture Monday afternoon. That she had known him less than a week mattered not at all when she trusted him so completely.

  4 'Have you ever thought of dancing at Chippendale's?" she asked. "You've definitely got the looks, as well as the grace to flaunt it."

  "Thank you, ma'am, but my knee wouldn't hold up for long under such strenuous exercise." He slid his arms around her and dipped her low. "Besides, I'd rather dance with you, than for a pack of screaming women I don't even know."

  The teasing light in his eyes refl
ected the laughter in hers, and they soon had a colorful montage of clothing strewn about the white rug. Once nude, they danced into the bathroom and continued their play in the shower. Covered with soap bubbles and slippery wet, they soon found the glass enclosure much too confining. Jesse rinsed off, then stepped out to give Aubrey a turn beneath the warm spray. The instant she turned off the water, he wrapped her in a purple towel and hugged her close.

  Aubrey had been too busy giving seminars to consider her life empty, but as she reached up to kiss Jesse, she saw with a sudden clarity just how lonely she had been. He had brought danger and troubling questions without answers, but more importandy, a delicious excitement she would always crave. She was lost in him before they reached her bed, and she gave her affection as generously as he. He coaxed forth a pleasure so intense it was nearly painful, but the only cry to escape her lips was a sibilant sigh of pure ecstasy.

  Everything changed for Aubrey that sunlit afternoon. Jesse's passion was no less consuming than the first time

  they had been together, but now it was flavored with a tenderness that left her not merely wonderfully content, but perfectly fulfilled. She lay snuggled in his arms, instinctively knowing all she would ever need to know of him, and longing for an eternity in one blissful afternoon.

  She had never known a man whose needs matched hers so superbly. Certain it was no mere accident of chemistry, she rested her hand lighdy on his chest and savored every delicious nuance. After showering together, only a faint trace of his cologne remained beneath the musky aroma of sex and his own masculine scent. She drank in the mingled fragrances, hoping to make them an enduring part of her memories.

  Jesse felt Aubrey moving closer still, pressing against him, into him, blurring whatever thin boundaries might still exist between them and could not even imagine a more exquisite sensation short of orgasm's blinding joy. He closed his eyes and relaxed into her, welcoming her spirit as well as her supple body. He had always drawn away from other women as soon as politely possible after they had satisfied his sexual needs, but with Aubrey he felt none of the nagging impatience for solitude others had always inspired.