by Lyn Stone
“Okay.” She wanted him, he wanted her and it was as simple as that. Plain old desire kicked into high gear by all this…togetherness. Not as if he had a lot of choice there. Sooner or later they would be going back to the Walkers’ house and spending the night together. Separately. Well, that was the official plan. Until they faced that particular trial, he was going to do just as she suggested and try his best to forget about it.
They reached the police station within minutes. Cherokee was a small town and the traffic was negligible in the early hours of the morning.
He walked in behind her, deliberately keeping his eyes off that nicely rounded backside of hers. Damn, he couldn’t ever recall being so aware of a woman before, every breath she took, every move she made.
“Which cell is Hightower in?” she asked. They had left the man cuffed in the interview room with two of the locals ready to lock him up.
“He left with his attorney about fifteen minutes ago,” the officer told her.
“He what?” Vanessa shouted. “How did this happen, Gary?”
She was as near to losing it as Clay had ever seen her.
The desk sergeant actually stepped back, his dark eyes rounded in surprise. “Hey, your charge was trespassing, a simple misdemeanor. The attorney paid the fine for it and got him released. Promised to escort him off the Boundary.”
“Where’s the sheriff?” she demanded, pounding her fist on the counter.
“Gone over to see about that explosion. You must have crossed paths on the way. It was another bomb, wasn’t it?”
“What’d it sound like, Gary? A firecracker? Of course it was a bomb! And you… Never mind,” she huffed, grabbed Clay by his sleeve and stomped back outside to the car. “We have to find him again. And this time, I don’t think he’s gonna be sitting on the front porch waiting for us to haul him in.”
“I think he’ll be where you can find him. I’m almost sure of it. He’s setting you up, Vanessa. Bring him in again and I’ll bet he’ll file a charge of harassment against you. He’s got his alibi. Even if he used a timer on the bomb, you can’t charge him without proof that he set it.”
“If he used the C-4 that was stolen���”
Clay shook his head. “That he took it is still only supposition. Besides, I have a feeling this bomb was a simple IED, like the one at the casino, indicating an amateur made it. Anyone can get plans for those on the Internet and buy the Muff to make them at any hardware store.”
“Improvised explosive device,” she muttered, frowning. “But why when he’s got the heavy stuff?”
“He’s saving that for the finale,” Clay told her. “First he wants to make himself look like the victim in your little crusade for justice.”
“I am not a vigilante!” she cried. “I’m not!”
“I know that, but if you play into his hands, your boss and probably mine, along with the sheriff and the council here might begin to think you are.”
She looked near tears, frustrated, feeling helpless, but to her credit, she was keeping it together. Clay took her hand and rubbed it between his. “We’ll get him.”
Vanessa stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the chin. “Thanks.”
He kissed her back, catching her lips open and taking advantage of that. She didn’t pull away, but he did when he heard a car engine rev and his common sense kicked in. All they needed was for the sheriff to drive up and catch them necking in his parking lot. Any credibility they had would be blown to hell if that happened.
“Well, I see interagency communication is progressing right along.” Mike Haygood got out of his patrol car and slammed the door.
Clay cursed himself for getting so involved in the kiss. He hadn’t heard the vehicle approaching until it was too late.
He watched Hay good amble over to them, thumbs hooked in his belt, one eyebrow raised in speculation.
Arrogant, but not combative yet, Haygood looked a little pissed off. Maybe jealous.
The cop set Clay’s teeth on edge, probably because he represented all that Clay hoped to steal Vanessa away from. Haygood was her past, a homeboy, part of her tribe. There was no point getting defensive. Clay had no defense. That didn’t keep him from wanting to shield Vanessa from Haygood’s obvious disapproval. “You have a problem with that?” he asked the man.
“Yeah, I do as a matter of fact,” Haygood snapped, then cast a level look on Vanessa. “You need to watch yourself, Van. Rumors are sprouting on the grapevine already.”
“So what’s the word?” She had her chin thrust out and her eyes narrowed in challenge.
Haygood switched his gaze to Clay. “No one’s quite sure what agency you’re working for, Senate. When Van introduced you around, she was pretty vague about that and there’s a lot of speculation.” He frowned at Vanessa. “The wind has sort of shifted. They’re saying you brought your secret-agent boyfriend here to help you nail Hightower for killing Brenda.”
She smiled, but it looked forced. “I already nailed him for that, Mike.”
“But not the way you wanted to and everybody knows it. There are some who believe Hightower’s paid his debt and you’re bound and determined to stick it to him again.”
“You think that, Mike?” Vanessa asked, pinning him with a glare.
“Not necessarily, just wanted you to know what’s in the wind.” Haygood nodded to both of them and went on inside the station.
Vanessa’s troubled expression said it all. “Cooperation is really going to be iffy from now on. They believe I’m on a witch hunt here.”
Clay couldn’t argue with her. That kiss had lost her some credibility, too. And that was his fault. Maybe he should apologize, but he knew she would take it the wrong way. To tell the truth, he wasn’t sorry he had kissed her and would do it again in a heartbeat. Just maybe not out here in public. That was not wise.
“Let’s go home and catch a couple hours sleep. Nothing more we can do here. I can’t even put out an APB on him, can I?”
“You could, but I don’t think it will be necessary. He’ll probably be waiting for you to locate him so he can play up his role of victim. Call his lawyer in the morning.”
It was already morning. Almost dawn. They had almost made it through this night without a personal catastrophe. Clay firmly reminded himself she was off-limits. However, when those luminous dark eyes of hers met his, Clay’s resolve slipped a notch.
Chapter 7
It felt strange having the house to themselves. They had slept through breakfast and managed to avoid each other until lunchtime. Clay wished her grandparents and Dilly were still here to offer a buffer.
Vanessa looked way too enticing wearing those blue knit lounge pants and matching top. In spite of himself, he kept trying to decide whether she wore a bra beneath it. The azure color enhanced her burnished-copper skin. He ached to touch her and feel her smooth firmness on the pads of his fingers on his palms, on his own body.
He really needed to get a grip and not on her person. Vanessa chattered away about food as she warmed up a casserole and shredded greens for a salad. Clay busied himself setting the table, trying to ignore the graceful way she moved the efficiency with which she performed each task, the exquisite line of her neck visible between her upswept hair and the neckline of her soft collarless shirt.
His lips warmed at the thought of pressing them there on her nape, tasting that finely textured skin with his tongue, sliding his arms around her and pulling her against him.
The cold shower hadn’t helped at all. His appetite raged, the one that had nothing to do with food. Why her? he kept asking himself. What was it about the woman that warped his common sense all out of proportion?
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice bright as she briefly brushed against him while placing the salad bowls on the table.
Their gazes locked and he felt her resignation, her surrender, the inevitable pull that drew them together. Powerless to resist her, Clay lowered his mouth to hers and lost himself in the taste of her.
Her moan of pleasure echoed his own as he deepened the kiss, crushing her in his arms, loving the feel of her moving sinuously against him. Encouraging, inviting…
Her phone chirped its tune, dum-da da-dum. She ignored it the first few times, then sighed and broke the kiss. Both of them were breathing fast, nearly hyperventilating. Her crooked little smile of apology did nothing to assuage his disappointment, but he let her go.
“Walker here,” she snapped into the cell phone, her voice breaking slightly. She listened for what seemed a long while, her eyes closed as she absorbed the message. “Keep this quiet for as long as you can. We don’t want a panic and I don’t want our perp to know it’s been found. Good idea. I’ll stay put until then. Thanks, Gil. I’ll be waiting here for the results.”
She flipped the phone shut and sank onto one of the kitchen chairs, propped her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand. “They located a bomb. Small one, set beneath Judge Eversalt’s car.”
Clay cleared his throat and tried to get his mind back in gear. “IED or something more sophisticated?”
“C-4,” she said. “He’s going to the heavy guns.”
“Looks like,” Clay agreed. “How was it set, for pressure?”
She shook her head. “Wired for remote detonation.”
“Not good,” Clay said, wincing. “I guess they’re checking the vehicles of the others?”
“On it now. A couple of EOD guys are headed up here to check out my Explorer soon as the others are cleared one way or the other.” She glanced at the cooling casserole. “Suddenly I’m not very hungry.”
“Eat anyway,” he advised. “We might get too busy later and energy could come in handy.” He proceeded to serve both plates with generous helpings of the dish she had warmed.
“There’s pie in the fridge if you want it,” she said halfheartedly. But he could see her mind was not on that. “What am I doing wrong, Clay?”
“Nothing,” he assured her as he dug into his salad. “He’s obviously cleverer than we’d like, but he’s also arrogant. Takes unnecessary chances.” He pointed at her with his fork. “That’ll be his downfall. You’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right. Do you think I’m on the right track, going after Hightower? All of a sudden, doubt seems to be coming off everyone else in waves. Could I be wrong? Could someone else be responsible for the bombs?”
“Don’t doubt your instinct,” Clay advised her. “It’s the best tool you have and what separates you from run-of-the-mill investigators. I trust it. I think he’s the one.”
Vanessa nodded. “Thanks.” But he could see her doubt and wished he could magically erase it.
“Why don’t you take a mental break from it, Vanessa? Step back and concentrate on something else. There’s really nothing you can do with regard to the case until you get another call or the team shows up to check out the Ford. Even then, the bomb squad will handle anything they find and forensics will follow up.”
“I know you’re right. I’ll try.”
“Imagine that we have nothing more pressing to do than eat, watch a little television and get a nap this afternoon.” Alone, he added to himself. “That’s our goal for the day.” He watched her nod in agreement and take a nibble of lettuce.
“Officially off duty,” she agreed, bobbing her head. She concentrated on her food, studiously ignoring him as she ate.
Clay couldn’t help thinking how normal this seemed, sitting here in the comfortable kitchen, surrounded by the trappings of her family life. Too normal for the likes of him.
What would she think of the house where he’d grown up? His old home place was cold, modern to the point of being clinical, though decadently expensive. And missing the key element that made a house a home. Love, of course.
Oh, he believed in that and had seen it applied in relationships he’d observed. He just didn’t know how to go about getting it, or more importantly, giving it. Sex was about as close as he could get to it, but he certainly knew there was a whale of a difference.
He forked a bite of the greens tossed with the piquant and an unusual dressing she had stirred up from unfamiliar ingredients. As he enjoyed the unique taste of what she had prepared, he wondered whether she could blend a mix of feelings that effortlessly. She obviously knew how, had probably been born knowing how.
“You ever been in love?” he asked, keeping his tone light.
She stared at him as if he had belched out loud.
He shrugged. “You know, really invested in someone full out with no reservations?”
The stare remained as she added a jerky little shake of her head and swallowed with some effort. “No,” she admitted then. “Not really. What brought that up? You looking for advice or something?”
Clay laughed and laid down his fork. He picked up his wineglass and took a hearty sip. “No, I just wondered. I was thinking how much you remind me of someone I know back in McLean. The wife of a friend of mine. She’s a Southern girl, too. Very open and affectionate.”
“Sure you’re not secretly in love with her?” Vanessa asked, rotating her wineglass, ostensibly focused on the robe.
“No, I just always admired her and…the way she is.” He fastened his gaze on Vanessa’s. “The way you are.”
She stopped eating, sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, observing him with a tilt of her head. “You’re pretty affectionate yourself.”
“Me? No, I’m the quintessential cold fish.”
She laughed out loud, that golden sound he craved like oxygen. What had he said that tickled her so? Only the truth.
She was shaking her head now and reaching for her wine again. “My lord, Clay, you are the most clueless individual I’ve met in a long time. Whoever described you as a cold fish?”
He thought about it. “No one I can recall. I guess that’s how I see myself.” That’s how he saw his father. Was he becoming the old man?
“Clueless,” she stated, nodding as if to herself. “I see right now some woman is gonna have her hands full straightening you out.”
“I wish it could be you,” he said honestly, wanting more than anything to break out of the mold in which he had been formed.
Her smile grew radiant. “Clay, that is absolutely the nicest thing a man has ever said to me. But you know that’s impossible. We’ve already discussed it.”
With that pronouncement, she got up and began clearing the table. Subject closed. “Go, watch a little TV. I’ll be in when I get through in here.”
He went into the den and turned the television on low. Now they were playing the avoidance game. How long could they last this time?
Clay suddenly felt a profound need to confess his overwhelming attraction to Vanessa. Not to her, but to someone. It was definitely coloring his evaluation of her and he knew it. Or maybe he just wanted to confide. That constituted a new experience, he thought with a wince of disbelief. He never trusted anyone enough to lay out his innermost thoughts.
Well, there had been that one time he’d all but declared himself to Holly to keep her from falling into bed with Will. That had been a huge mistake and it hadn’t been all that effec tive, either. Too little, too late.
Not that he had been in love with Holly. Sure, he’d been attracted to her, cared about her more than any woman he’d known at the time, admired her and thought they would be a much better match than she and Will were. He had been dead wrong about that. Yet, if anyone would understand his present conundrum, it would be Holly, who had faced a similar situation.
Without giving himself time to rule it out, he picked up his cell phone and hit her speed dial number. She answered on the second ring. “Hey, Chief, what’s up?”
Clay smiled. Holly was not the most politically correct person he’d ever met. In fact, she was the least so. “Hi. Nothing yet. We’re still investigating.”
She paused. “Something’s wrong. Personal problem?”
Clay sighed into the phone. The woman might not
be psychic, but came damn close. “I’m sort of…involved, for lack of a better word.”
“A woman? Oh God, let me call Will. He’ll never believe this. OF Senate the Stoic had flipped out over a skirt. Who is she?”
“Don’t you say a word about this to that husband of yours. It’s the candidate. Jack’s going to have to replace me. I absolutely cannot find, or maybe can’t admit to, any of her faults. I literally can’t see them. This is…not working.”
He almost clicked off then and left it at that, but she was making those crooning sounds she used with all of them when she went into Mama Mode. He realized he needed that right now. “What do I do?” he asked, feeling about twelve years old and lost in the throes of his first big crush. Come to think of it, this was his first Big Crush.
“That’s it,” he said, more to himself than her. “Infatuation. It’ll probably pass, but it’s interfering big time with my judgment and Jack should know that.”
“Then maybe you should be telling him,” she suggested. “Why are you calling me about it, hon? You had to know I’d say go for it. That’s what I did,” she reminded him.
She and Will had bucked the unwritten rules and had nearly had to choose which one stayed on the job at Sextant. Mercier had not been pleased that two of his agents were getting it on and even less thrilled when they’d decided to marry. There were still problems regarding assignments where their personal feelings might affect an operation.
Clay thought for a minute. “Maybe subconsciously that’s what I wanted to hear from you.”
“Don’t overanalyze this, Clay. You’re bad about that.”
“If I do start something with her, though, it will seriously impact on her chances of getting hired. I can’t do that to her. She’s really capable, Holly. Perfect for COMPASS and deserving of it, too.”
“Go for it, Clay. Don’t be a dope,” she said with a smile in her voice. “Sounds like you’re dead serious about her. If she’s worth her salt and all that praise, she’ll get what’s coming to her one way or another. I happen to think you would be a much bigger prize than any job she could ever imagine.”