by Andrea Kane
"And now you're sorry?"
"No, I'm not sorry, I'm just. . . changed. Like you said, monkey wrenches do that to you. I just didn't anticipate this one. Not just the pull between us but how incredible it would be when we ..." Her voice trailed off, the aura between them taking on that charged quality.
"Made love," Connor finished for her. His expression was no longer unreadable. It was tender, and there was a heated look in his eyes. His fingertip traced her cheekbones, caressed her lower lip. "Go ahead and call it that, because that's what it was. We didn't just fall into bed, Julia, we wanted to be here. It might have happened faster than you planned, but there's nothing casual about what's happening between us. As for the order of things, I'd say it all happened together, like an avalanche."
He lowered his head, kissed the hollow at the base of her throat. "For the record, I think you're amazing." He moved to kiss her collarbone. "You're also the most honest, genuine human being I've ever met." A trail of kisses down the side of her neck. "You're intelligent and sensitive, and I have a pretty good idea what makes you tick." He shifted, his lips gliding down, brushing the upper swell of her breasts, then lower, tracing the delicate expanse of cleavage. "That takes care of the liking and trusting, as well as the meeting of the minds and emotions, right?"
Julia's breath was coming faster. The awkwardness of their heavy conversation was vanishing beneath me sensations Connor was wreaking on her with his touch. And everything he was saying rang true. "Right," she managed.
"As for the passion . . ." Connor tugged the blanket out of her unresisting hands, flung it aside. "I've never wanted anyone like this, to the point where it consumes me." He shifted to his knees, bent over her breast, and wet her nipple with the tip of his tongue. "I get hard every time I think about you—and I think about you at the most inopportune times, like in the middle of a business meeting." His lips surrounded her nipple, tugged at it, sending tiny jolts of pleasure darting through her.
She whimpered, arching against him.
"I took a cold shower Saturday night," Connor muttered thickly, shifting to her other breast, nuzzling it with his lips. "I'm thirty-five years old, and I took a cold shower. Worse, I've taken one every night since. Tonight, I could barely get my clothes off in time. And when I finally got inside that beautiful body of yours . . ," His tongue lashed across her nipple, tugged the hardened peak into his mouth. He paused, savored her cry of pleasure. "It was more than incredible. It was explosive, like hurtling into the sun. I felt it as much as you did. But Julia..." He raised his head, met her dazed stare. 'This time's going to be even better."
"Is it?" Julia's body was screaming to life, and she could hardly speak.
"Um-hum." He raised himself up, tangling his hands in her hair and tugging her mouth up to his. "Remember I said you deserved to be lingered over for hours? Those hours are about to start."
"Now?" she whispered, her palms gliding down his chest, exploring his muscled torso, then slipping lower.
Connor's breath hissed out between his teeth as her fingers closed around his erection. "Definitely now."
* * *
18
Julia was sound asleep when Connor eased out of bed and began pulling on his clothes. He glanced down at her, feeling an odd tangle of emotions in his chest. She looked like a sleeping angel, her expression serene, her hair a disheveled waterfall on the pillow. He was half tempted to chuck his clothes aside and climb back into bed, make love to her again, and go to sleep with her in his arms.
But common sense prevailed, reminding him that it would be ill advised, at least this time. The reality was, it was almost two a.m., and he had to get back to Stephen's house. He hadn't spoken with his brother all day. That made him uneasy. Not to mention that he didn't want Brian waking up in the morning and finding him gone, probably assuming he'd returned to Manhattan. That was the last thing the poor kid needed. He had enough instability to deal with. To top that off, once Brian saw for himself that his uncle hadn't left but had spent the night elsewhere, he'd have a million questions—questions Connor wasn't remotely equipped to answer.
Besides, Julia had to be fit to teach in the morning. As it was, he'd worn her out. If he stayed, she wouldn't get any sleep. He couldn't keep his hands off her.
His gaze returned to the bed as he finished buttoning his shirt, and he stood quietly, watching Julia sleep. The night had yielded a hell of a lot more than he'd expected. Things had spun completely out of control. He'd spun completely out of control. For someone accustomed to being in the driver's seat, that was an uneasy first. Talk about being thrown for a loop.
Then there was another issue, one that had inserted itself in his mind more than once since he'd realized Julia's sexual experience wasn't limited, it was nil. And that was the issue of protection. He hadn't used any, not once during their long hours in bed. Another uneasy first. He'd been stupid and careless, and, what was worse, he hadn't done a damned thing to correct it.
They'd have to talk about this. Right away, tomorrow, before another night arrived and they lost their minds again.
He leaned over the bed, brushing a gentle kiss against the side of Julia's mouth. She made a soft sound and rolled onto her back. He kissed her again, more deeply this time.
Her lashes fluttered and lifted. "Connor?" She looked dazed, confused.
"It's late," he murmured against her parted lips. "I've got to go. Otherwise, you'll have to explain to Brian where his uncle spent the night."
She smiled, returning his kiss with a reluctant sigh. "You're right. What time is it?'
"A little before two." He tucked the blanket around her, more as a self-imposed barrier for himself than for her. All he wanted was to climb back into that bed, bury himself inside her, and damn the world to hell. "Go back to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Um-m-m..." Her eyelids drooped. "Would you set my alarm?" she mumbled.
He reached over to the clock radio on her night table and flipped the alarm switch on. "Done. And I'll close the door behind me. Anything else?"
No answer.
A corner of Connor's mouth lifted. She was already asleep-He left the bedroom, scooped up his jacket, and headed for the door.
It wasn't until he was in his car that he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, turned it back on, and checked it for messages.
There were five. All from Stephen. All frantic.
He was still listening to his brother's strung-out pleas to call when he zoomed out of the parking lot and headed off.
* * *
The house was eerily silent when Connor walked in. Not two-thirty in the morning silent, but weird silent, as if the household was in crisis rather than asleep. The upstairs was pitch dark, which meant Stephen was somewhere on the first level.
Connor moved from room to room, peering through the darkness to find his brother. He didn't want to call out and wake Brian, but he was getting more antsy by the minute.
He reached the family room and stopped. A single table lamp was on. And by its limited amount of light, he could see that Stephen was sprawled on the sofa, one arm thrown over his eyes as if he'd fallen into a reluctant, troubled, and most probably drunken sleep.
"Stephen."
His brother started awake the minute Connor said his name. He struggled to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. "Connor, what time is it?"
"Two-thirty."
"Where've you been? And what's wrong with your cell phone?"
"I was tied up. And I turned it off." Connor flipped on another light. Then he headed toward the sofa, fully intending to shake away the alcohol effects clouding his brother's head. "What happened? Is Brian okay?"
"That depends on what you mean by okay." Stephen rose, waving Connor off. "I'm dead sober. I haven't touched a drink all night. I've been too out of my mind to think of liquor."
An icy premonition shot up Connor's spine. "Why?"
"They're gone." Stephen's expression was tortured. "Nancy took Brian and left."
<
br /> "Left, as in left you?" Connor's jaw dropped. "That's impossible. I saw them around lunchtime. Nancy had taken Brian to the doctor's. She wasn't planning on doing anything all day but spooning doses of antibiotic down your son's throat and watching videos with him."
"That was then." Stephen raked a hand through his hair. "A lot happened after that."
"I called your office twice. Celeste said you were tied up."
"I was. I was trying to figure out a way to get to Philip Walker. Unfortunately, he got to me first." Stephen filled Connor in on the afternoon's events—the note and package Nancy had received, her urgent phone call to him, and the biting argument that had ensued.
"Damn," Connor muttered. "Walker is one twisted bastard. Delivering Brian's cap to your door and freaking the hell out of Nancy as a way to get to you—that's pretty extreme. As for her reaction, that couldn't have come as a surprise. You should have told her the whole story last night."
"I should have done a lot of things, but I didn't." Stephen blew out his breath. "Anyway, when she called me, she was a total wreck. At first, she shouted accusations—-all justifiable. After that, she got very quiet. Too quiet. She told me it was over. Then she hung up. It should have dawned on me that she might do something like this. But my entire focus was on finding a way to protect Brian. I spent the next few hours on the phone with the PI I hired. He's busting his ass to get me information on Walker—yesterday, if possible. He also has a colleague who used to be in police surveillance. I got hold of him around dinnertime and hired him to keep an eye on Brian. After that, I came home. I found this." He handed Connor a sheet of paper.
Connor took Nancy's note and scanned it. It said that she and Brian were fine but that she'd reached the end of her rope, in terms of both her tolerance for Stephen's compulsion and her fear for Brian's life. She said she'd taken Brian somewhere safe, that she'd be in touch, and that she and Stephen would work out the details of their respective futures after Walker was dealt with and Brian was no longer in danger.
With a hard sigh, Connor handed back the note. "Looking for them would be a lousy idea. You'd open up a can of worms, alerting too many people, including Walker. That would put Brian at an even greater risk. Besides, Nancy doesn't want to be found. The threat to Brian came out of left field. It pushed her over the edge."
"Yeah." Stephen didn't dispute his brother's words. He looked pretty much over the edge himself. "But Nancy's state of mind isn't what kept me from going after them. My first reaction was to call up every person we know, every relative Nancy has, until I got a lead on her whereabouts. But what you said about the can of worms I'd be opening, that's what stopped me. If I initiate a search, the press will get hold of this, and so will Walker. I can't let that happen. I've got to protect my family, even if it means going crazy in the process. Which is what I've been doing—pacing around the house, doing nothing but wracking my brain for another alternative. And calling you. I wanted your input. Maybe I just wanted to hear another human voice, one I could trust. I've got nowhere else to turn. Christ, Connor, everything is unraveling . . ." Stephen's voice broke. "I've never heard Nancy sound like that. Like a haunted stranger. It scared the hell out of me. And when I got home and she and Brian were gone . . ." He swallowed hard. "No matter how bad things got, I never really believed she'd leave me. I guess I was a stupid, insensitive jerk."
"I wouldn't go that far." Connor's mind was racing, worrying about Stephen, worrying about Brian and Nancy, worrying about the situation with Walker. "Sometimes it takes having a bucket of ice water dumped on our heads before we open our eyes. You love your wife. You lost sight of that. Now you've regained it. Once she's back here, you'll have to show her. It's not going to be easy. You'll need professional help—for your gambling problem and your marriage. If you get it, I really think you can fix things. But, Stephen, no matter how your marriage plays out, Nancy would never keep you and Brian apart. Not once she's sure he's safe. You're his father, and a damned good one. Nancy knows that. She'll bring him back."
Stephen nodded, staring at the carpet. Abruptly, he raised his head and met Connor's gaze. His eyes were damp. "I'd chuck it all, you know," he said quietly. "If it meant keeping Nancy and Brian safe, I'd call the police, implicate myself, and screw my whole political future. But I have no proof that Brian's in any danger or that it's Walker who sent that package. All I have is my word that he's blackmailing me. That's enough for an investigation and a scandal. But it's not enough for a conviction. We know Walker has men out there; they're the ones who pounded me. What if he gets ticked off and sends his goons after Brian just to punish me? It's too great a risk."
Connor stared at his brother, hearing a different Stephen, a man who was actually willing to own up to his weaknesses and pay the price. A man who'd sacrifice it all for his family.
Maybe there was hope after all.
"I agree," Connor replied. "Involving the police at this time would be a mistake. We've got nothing concrete to report, and we might piss off Walker. At best, the scandal would eat our family alive. No. It seems to me that Nancy plucked Brian out of the line of fire by dropping out of sight. Let's use this time to bring Walker down."
'Time? What time? Walker expects me to come through by Thursday," Stephen reminded him bitterly.
"I know." Connor could actually feel the minutes ticking by. "Is there anything you can say to stall him? Anything he'd buy?"
"Walker understands one language: blackmail."
"Fine. Then use it."
Stephen shot his brother an irritated look. "What do you think I spent the past two days trying to do?"
"I'm not talking about getting something on Walker. I'm talking about telling him you're trying to get something on others—like two of your city councilmen."
Irritation transformed to comprehension. "You're saying I should tell him I'm digging into those councilmen's backgrounds and that I'm on the verge of uncovering a few skeletons they'd like to keep hidden."
"Um-hum. Badly enough to throw their votes your way. That's a technique Walker can relate to."
Stephen nodded slowly. "It might work. At least long enough to buy me a few more days."
"With any luck, that's all we'll need." Connor ran a hand over his jaw. "You said you hired a PI. Who?"
"The same guy Dad used to check out Braxton. I didn't give him too many background details, just in case his loyalties are with Dad rather than me. Just the basics, more than enough to go on. As for the surveillance guy, he knows only that someone's sent a threat or two my way, pointedly mentioning my son. Again, I didn't get into specifics."
"Smart move. In the meantime, I'll access my own network of contacts the minute the sun comes up. They're discreet. They'll check out Walker's company." Connor frowned. "Speaking of Dad, he'll be here in about thirty hours. We've got to decide how to handle him."
"I don't want him knowing anything about Walker," Stephen said adamantly.
"I realize that. But you know Dad; he's got the instincts of a fox. He'll pick up on the tension the minute he walks in the door. Plus, you've got to explain where Nancy and Brian are." Connor thought for a minute. "We'll come up with something. A vacation, maybe, or a trip to visit one of Nancy's relatives. That story will work for everyone, including the press. No one knows Brian's sick, so they won't think it's weird that Nancy took him away . . ." Connor's voice trailed off as a realization struck. "Shit."
Stephen's head shot up. "What is it?"
"Julia. What do we tell her? She knows Brian's got an earache. She's expecting him to be home recuperating, then back at school in a day or two."
"Great." Stephen shook his head in frustration. "Now I've got Julia Talbot to worry about. Fine. I'll go see her tomorrow, tell her the earache was a false alarm, not an infection after all. I'll tell her the vacation story. I'll say Nancy took Brian away to ease the tension he's been feeling from the election campaign. That should please her, since she's so worried about him."
"It won't work."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because Julia knows Brian's earache was an infection."
"How? You saw her this morning. Nancy hadn't taken . him to the doctor yet..."
"I saw her again tonight."
"Tonight? When? I thought you just came from some business meeting that ran half the night."
"I never said that. All I said was that I was tied up and that I'd turned off my cell phone."
Connor's words sank in, and for the first time, Stephen took a good, hard look at his brother. "Wow," he commented, rioting Connor's rumpled appearance. "You're in a lot deeper than I realized."
"Yeah, a lot deeper than I realized, too." Connor didn't mince words. His brother wasn't a fool. Besides, his wheels were turning again. "Julia's going to be worried sick when she hears Brian's gone. I won't add insult to injury by lying to her about the reasons behind his disappearance. I'll just tell her it's a personal matter and ask for her cooperation. That'll have to do."
"But will she go along with it? If she voices any suspicions to her principal, or if Cheryl Lager shows up on her doorstep again, pushes her too hard ..."
"Julia won't say anything."
Stephen shot his brother a questioning look. "Because of her feelings for you?"
"No, because of her feelings for Brian. Me?" Connor gave a humorless laugh. "When I lay this one on her, she'll probably punch me out."
* * *
19
April 11 6:55 A.M.
The diner was a dump. Indeed, diner was a misnomer, because what the place really was was a broken-down truck stop, used primarily by the drivers of eighteen-wheelers when they needed a caffeine fix. They'd stop off to refill their thermoses with coffee strong enough to carry them for a couple of hundred miles. The mud this place served filled the bill.