Carolina Heat

by Barth, Christi

  “The only person who puts me in my place like this is my brother, Jonathan. He claims deflating my ego is his full-time hobby. He’d get a kick out of meeting you.”

  “I’d be delighted to knock back a few beers with him, but we should probably put the big family meet-and-greet on hold for a few days. I’m heading for the police station.”

  Annabelle threw up her hands. “I give in. You can come with me to pick up Vanessa’s things, but you can’t mention anything to them about our friend from the beach.”

  “Understood.” He kept his eyes glued to the road, hoping his triumph didn’t show on his face. It was a turning point. He’d won this round, and fully intended to stick to her like glue. And not just to keep her out of harm’s way. Their picnic had been interrupted far too soon. His original plan for the evening included a sunset stroll along the water to loosen her up enough for some moonlit kisses. The peck he gave her a few minutes ago merely whet his appetite. He was a patient man, and intended to have more than a quick taste of her in the very near future.

  “This goes against every ounce of experience and training in me, but you hit the nail on the head. I can’t afford to turn down any help, let alone someone who might actually be an asset.”

  He winced. “A backhanded compliment if ever I heard one. A little Southern must be rubbing off on you.”

  Annabelle glanced at him sideways. “How about if a little more rubs off?”

  Mark shook his head. “I don’t quite follow you, darlin’.”

  “This isn’t a good time or place, but I don’t want to wait. Pull over for a minute.”

  “Don’t tell me you have another secret. I’m not sure my heart can take many more of your surprises in one night.”

  Mark steered them to a cautious stop on the shoulder. The moon silhouetted the palmetto trees lining the road, casting long, mysterious shadows. He turned off the ignition.

  It was finally dark, to Annabelle’s great relief. She gathered courage from the darkness, knowing he couldn’t see her face. All the blood rushed straight to her head, and her cheeks warmed. She was giddy. This was so unlike her plan-ten-steps-ahead personality. It was almost an out-of-body experience, as though an unseen force moved her arms and legs. New town, new man, new take on life. She wasn’t going to just sniff a few blossoms—she was going to shake the whole damn tree till it snowed petals. Time to seize the day. Head filled with optimistic clichés, Annabelle undid her seatbelt.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she climbed right over the gear shift and onto his lap. Maybe now wasn’t the perfect time, or the ideal place, but she knew none of that mattered.

  She grabbed onto his thick black curls with both hands. “You’re taking a huge leap with me, Mark.” A single corner of her mouth curved in a crooked smile. ”I’m used to going it alone, so I’ll probably fight you every step of the way. But I also want you to know how much I appreciate your offer.”

  Annabelle tipped his head to the side and kissed him softly on the lips. She waited a moment, but when he didn’t immediately put his arms around her she drew back, unsure. After all that had transpired he had every right to reject her. Her dramatic launch into a passionate embrace wasn’t going as planned. She kind of hoped making the first move would be enough and he’d take over from there. It took all her courage to go this far. His face was expressionless as she hovered, lips a breath above his. Maybe it was stupid and crazy to make a move now, but every thrumming nerve in her body told her this was the time to act.

  Mark was immobilized with shock, quickly replaced with delight. It was as if the woman read his mind. The adrenaline of the evening had faded, but left both of them with nervous energy they needed to burn off. He felt a pang of regret she beat him to the punch, but a good idea was a good idea, no matter who took the credit. As she shifted her weight against him, a surge of lust hit him like a fist.

  “Now Miss Annabelle,” he drawled slowly, “you didn’t climb all the way into my lap to stop at one little measly kiss of appreciation.”

  She laughed in relief, low and husky. “You see right through me, Mr. Dering,” she purred, and lowered her mouth again to his. This time it wasn’t soft. Their kiss was hard and demanding, fueled by all the pent up excitement of the last few hours. Her teeth scraped his lower lip, sending a nip of pain. He retaliated by thrusting his tongue deeply into her mouth, in a mating dance that foreshadowed the inevitable.

  Annabelle moaned, swamped with pulsating desires. Impetuousness drove her to Mark’s lap, but pure passion kept her there. Kissing Mark was amazing. It was pure sensation, heady and rich and addictive.

  Everything about him was sensual. The thick softness between her fingers, his amazingly solid chest rubbing against hers, and the growing hardness under her thighs. Every possible inch of her body touched his, and it still wasn’t enough. The last time they kissed on the Haley’s front porch the intensity he awoke caught her off guard. Now she reveled in it, hungry for more and arching against him to demand it.

  She smelled like flowers and tasted faintly of sea salt. It was a heavenly combination to Mark. He ran his hands up and down her sides, coming to rest just underneath her breasts. He cupped them, relishing how perfectly they filled his palms. His thumbs moved inward, brushing her nipples.

  She squirmed on his lap in response as his tongue began a quest down her neck. His eyes popped open. The motion of her tight little butt rubbing against his arousal was almost enough to undo him.

  “I have to tell you, darlin’ I’m feeling mighty appreciated right now.” His lips nuzzled her ear.

  “Every time you touch me I melt,” Annabelle whispered. She arched her back, pushing her breasts against his fingers. He lightly pinched her already taut nipples, and her breath caught. Little zings of excitement shot from the tips of her nipples down to her stomach.

  Bright light suddenly washed over the car. The two jerked apart. Annabelle lunged for her seat, but one arm tangled in the steering wheel and her ankle was caught under his calf. Just as quickly the light receded as the passing car continued down the road.

  “Talk about being caught unaware,” Mark guffawed. “Hasn’t happened to me since high school. Heck, I bet those people thought we were teenagers.”

  “How embarrassing!” Annabelle successfully scooted back into her own seat. Even though the car was long gone, she shoved futilely at her tangled curls in an effort to restore respectability.

  “Come on, lighten up. Your picture won’t be on the front page of the paper tomorrow or anything.”

  “I know. But I never got caught before. I mean, not in such a compromising position.”

  “Are you trying to say ‘making out’?”

  Annabelle felt heat flood her cheeks. “I spent my high school years in the library, not in the backseat of a car.”

  “Sugar, we can fix your teenage deprivation right now. Never too late to right a wrong.” He reached across her seat and flipped a lever. Annabelle's seat flew backward until she lay almost flat.

  “What…why….what on earth are you doing?” she sputtered.

  Mark laughed uproariously. “I just wanted to see the look on your face.” He kept laughing as he pushed her seat back upright.

  “Very funny.” Mostly relieved, a small part of her was nonetheless disappointed. Her new, devil-may-care spontaneous streak was going so well she wouldn’t have objected to a little more playing around.

  He patted her on the head. “Give me a little credit. The first time we make love will be special. You deserve far better than a quick grope in the back seat.”

  Annabelle gulped. “You say that as if our making love was a foregone conclusion.”

  Mark lightly stroked her jaw line and held a finger to her lips. “It is to me. And after what just happened, it is to you. You’re kidding yourself if you think anything else. The only question is when and where.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and started the car.

  The impact of his words was a punch right to her
stomach. Here she was in the middle of the most important investigation of her life, being told she was about to have a sexual fling. Well, not a fling. Whatever it was between them certainly qualified as more than a fling. A torrid affair?

  Annabelle smiled at the thought. There had been other men, but nothing like this. Nothing this unpredictable and sizzling. Yes, this definitely had the makings of a torrid affair. And although the timing seemed completely wrong, she knew better. She was here in Charleston for a reason, and they met for a reason. Number one rule of investigation: there are no coincidences. Which meant in some strange way, maybe fate, maybe something else, it was the right time. It meant she didn’t need to fight it anymore.

  “Actually, the only question is when. The where has to be at your house. I don’t think Mrs. Haley wants to be a party to her guest and adopted son cavorting.”

  Mark ran his tongue around his teeth. “You say the magic word, sugar. But let’s make sure our friend with the binoculars is otherwise occupied.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I can’t stand precinct houses. Feels like I have a scarlet J for Journalist on my chest every time I walk in the front door. If there’s one thing the police hate more than criminals, it’s the press.” Annabelle remembered just in time to wait and let Mark open her door.

  “It wasn’t that bad. Trust me, until you’ve seen the inside of a jail cell, you’ve got no room to complain.”

  “Voice of experience? Are you hiding a dark, criminal past?” she teased.

  “Nothing that exciting. Helped research a book on a serial killer, spent some time doing interviews behind bars. Worst job I ever had.” Mark stuffed the bags in around her legs. “Pretty tight fit. I’ll do my best to get you home before you lose feeling below the knee.”

  “I can’t believe the desk sergeant almost refused to hand over her bags.” Annabelle slammed the car door much harder than necessary. Better to take her temper out on the door than on poor Mark, who’d jumped into this investigation with remarkable equanimity.

  “A temporary glitch. You’ve got everything now,” Mark said, as he started the engine.

  “A glitch? They lost all Vanessa’s belongings! It took two beat cops and a detective to figure out where they’d stashed her bags. Who knows if the police ever searched them? A missing journalist just isn’t as sexy as a murder. I call it a good indication of how low a priority her case really is to the Charleston Police Department.”

  “You’ve got a point. I’m beginning to see why your boss put you on this. And I’m even more convinced you can’t afford to turn down my help.”

  “I’m still getting used to the idea.” Annabelle looked out the window, but nothing was recognizable in the dark shadows rushing by. Impatience flayed her nerves. “How much longer?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  “Too long,” she muttered. She pulled her legs sideways onto the seat to give better access to the jumble at her feet, but struggled to open each of the bags. There wasn’t enough room to maneuver. Almost hitting Mark in the eye, she shoved all but the laptop onto the back seat.

  “The sensible approach would be to wait until we’re out of the car,” Mark noted, as he ducked the sharp hangers of the garment bag.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t rip them open on the steps of the police station. I’m not waiting another minute. The laptop might still have some power.” Annabelle’s fingers raced over the keyboard of the tiny computer. She shook her head, and then typed some more. “It’s no use. She has a layer of protection on here I can’t get through. Makes me all the more suspicious. Vanessa didn’t have the patience for anything technical. She almost never used passwords.”

  “Sorry, it’s out of my league. My PIN number for the ATM is as close as I get to using passwords.”

  Annabelle chewed on her lip in frustration. “I know whatever we’re looking for is in here. All her notes would be on the hard drive. If she locked down the computer, there must be something important, maybe even dangerous in her notes.” Then a stroke of inspiration hit. “I need you to take me to the airport.”

  Mark’s head whipped around. “What? You’re leaving? Giving up, after one little bump in the road?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Things are really heating up. You couldn’t drag me away from Charleston right now.”

  “Then why the airport?”

  She shut down the machine to conserve what little power was left and carefully packed it away. “My brother Jonathan’s a computer whiz. I can’t tell you what he does, because it’s completely over my head. But I do know that among other things he’s a first class hacker. He’s been a huge help to me on a couple of other stories. If he gets this laptop first thing tomorrow, I guarantee we’ll have results by dinner.”

  “Have you checked your watch lately? All the package delivery services are closed by now.”

  “Exactly. It’s why we’re going to the airport. Every major airport has a drop-off box for overnight packages. As long as it gets in before midnight, it goes on the last plane out.”

  Mark executed a series of turns that took them onto a different highway. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there. If you need some paper to jot a note to your brother, try digging under the seat.” They rode in silence as Annabelle scribbled a terse message.

  “After you take me home, I’ll look through the rest of her things.”

  “Still don’t entirely trust me, sugar?” Mark kept his tone light, but there was a rough edge underneath.

  She didn’t blame him for the accusation. They’d had about six rocky starts. But now there weren’t any more secrets between them. She laid a hand on his thigh. “Mark, I gave you my word. We’re in this together.”

  “So why not go through her suitcase right now?”

  “Because I don’t feel like balancing over the seat juggling luggage as we zoom down the highway.” Annabelle raised her voice in exasperation. Taking someone else into consideration was not her norm. Juggling a partner and their undefined relationship was already proving to be complex.

  “Look, it’s been a long day. If you want, you can watch me open everything in Mrs. Haley’s parlor, but then I’m going right to bed.” She waited, unsure of his reaction, and was relieved to see his chest rise as he dragged in a breath and huffed it out.

  “Sorry. I don’t normally jump to conclusions. You’re right. Chalk it up to a long day.”

  “No problem.” She squeezed his hand and held it all the way to the airport.

  Less than an hour later they knelt on the floor of Mrs. Haley’s spotless parlor. Vanessa’s tote and garment bags sat in front of them.

  “Time you did the honors.” Mark patted the dark green bag. But Annabelle sat, unmoving.

  “What’s the matter, sugar?”

  Annabelle pressed her lips together and shook her head. A single tear trailed down her cheek. Alarmed, Mark pulled her into his arms and rocked her gently. She turned her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder and her chest heaved with dry sobs. With one hand he made long, comforting strokes down her back, keeping the other arm firmly tucked around her waist. They stayed pressed together for several minutes before Annabelle spoke.

  “I’ve watched her unpack this bag so many times. Whenever she returned from a trip she’d call, and if I was in town I’d rush over to her apartment. We’d each have a margarita, and then she’d unzip her suitcase and tell me about the trip. The unpacking was part of the ritual. I wore the green dress when I toured the White House. This grass stain is from falling off my horse in Montana.” Annabelle’s voice trembled, and a few more tears rolled down her cheek. Mark began to run his fingers through her soft curls in a soothing rhythm.

  “I covered my share of missing persons’ cases when I was just starting out. Since then I’ve read about hundreds more. I know the facts, the statistics, inside and out. Deep down, I’ve known the truth from the first moment. Vanessa is gone.”

  The pain in her voice was raw. Excruciating.

  �
��I’ve been scared for weeks at her silence. I was busy. Told myself I was paranoid. But now, sitting here about to unpack without her,” Annabelle licked her lips and continued. “I know it was nothing more than a fantasy. I’m too late to save her. No matter what I do from here on out, there’s no chance. Not after this long. If I’m lucky, I might be able to stop someone else from getting hurt. But she’s really gone.”

  “Oh, Annabelle.” Mark tightened his hold and kissed the top of her head. There was nothing to say. All he could do was hold her tight. They sat twined together for a little while longer.

  Annabelle sniffled loudly. “Aren’t you well-prepared Southern gentlemen supposed to have a handkerchief to hand a lady when she’s upset?”

  “Sure – if this was 1867.”

  “Fine. I’ll go grab a tissue and be right back.” Annabelle slipped out of his arms and left the room.

  Mark rested his arms on his knees and dropped his head, sighing deeply. It didn’t feel like enough to him, just helping her grieve. He agreed the probability of reuniting Annabelle and Vanessa was slim. It made him long for the days when a man could prove himself to a woman by doing something simple, like winning a duel or marching off to war. The problems of this century were much more complex.

  He looked up as Annabelle came back into the room. There was a determined glint in her eye, and he could tell she’d pulled herself together in those few moments. The woman had an inner strength that was flat out amazing.

  “A good cry is supposed to be very therapeutic.” Annabelle fluttered her lashes and dropped into a thick Southern accent. “I’ll get some sleep and be fit as a fiddle by morning.”

  Mark winced. “Your accent is painful. And picking up a few colorful phrases doesn’t make you any less a Yankee.”

  “I don’t deny it for a second. After all, we were the victors,” she taunted.

  “No, your great-great grandparents were the victors. I get so sick of groups like the Daughters of the Confederacy acting as if they were actually there that day, watching the North fire on Fort Sumter. It’s time to move on.”