by Elle Kennedy
“She’s…she was an alcoholic.”
That familiar look of pity crossed the officer’s features. Rachel stiffened her chin. She would have rather been accused of murdering her mother than look at the shame cloaking the man’s face.
“Do you remember what day last week you saw her?”
Her lips went tight. “Tuesday.”
“And what condition was she in when you saw her?”
“I didn’t. I simply came in the house, gathered the bills and left.”
“So you didn’t actually see your mother Tuesday?”
Her head began to ache as the muscles in her neck went taut. She didn’t want to have to explain the situation any further. She wanted them to take her mother and leave.
Travis’s hand came down on her shoulder, rubbing lightly to relieve the tension. Wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible, she simply blurted out the truth.
“My mother called to me from her bed upstairs. She still thinks I’m my dead sister. I heard her call my sister’s name. No, I didn’t go upstairs, as I didn’t want to get into it. I simply gathered the mail and left.”
The officer’s jaw tightened and his brow lowered. Rachel would have given anything to slap that lamented look off his face, but Travis’s hold on her shoulder kept her from acting on it.
“How long were you in the house?”
“About ten minutes. It usually takes a while to find all the bills.”
Paramedics emerged from the front door with a gurney containing her mother’s body, and Porter’s attention was drawn back to the scene. “Mrs. Sanders has already identified the body. Would you like to see her before we transport her to the medical examiner?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
The man paused, apparently wondering if she was going to change her mind. She could see from his expression that he was trying to be sympathetic, but anyone coming from a normal family didn’t quite get it.
“As her next of kin, we’ll need to know how to contact you.”
Rachel pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to the officer.
“If there’s nothing else,” Travis said, “I think Ms. Foster would like to lock up the house and go home.”
“I’m afraid the crime unit is still investigating.” The officer attempted a reassuring smile toward Rachel. “It’s standard when a victim is found at home. If you could wait here, I’ll see how long they’re going to be. The detective in charge may have more questions.”
It was nearly four hours later before Travis and Rachel returned to her apartment. She stepped into the living room and tossed her purse on the couch, relieved that the ordeal at her mother’s house was over.
Travis closed the door behind her and pulled her back against his chest, digging his solid fingers into her shoulders, massaging away the tension. Her knees nearly buckled from pleasure and in an effort to remain standing, she leaned against him.
“How are you?” he asked.
She had to think for a moment. The firm sensation in her shoulders had wiped away her thoughts. “Tired and relieved,” were the words she finally chose.
“You put up a good front.” His words came out in a warm breath against her ear. “Are you really okay?”
She allowed her head to fall to her chest when Travis’s fingers moved to the back of her neck. She really didn’t want to talk. She wanted to just stand here in the orgasmic feel of his hands soothing her muscles.
“You make me okay. I really appreciate you staying with me. You didn’t need to do that.”
His hands stopped and she nearly cried. She knew she should have kept her words terse to avoid this very situation. He turned her around to face him.
“Rachel, I care about you. What happens to you happens to me from now on, right?”
A soft smile curved on her face. “If I say right, will you go back to rubbing my shoulders again?”
He smiled and kissed her forehead, tugged at her hand and led her to the bedroom.
“Lie down so I can get a better stab at those knots in your shoulders.”
“Would it help if I were naked?”
“Not if you want a back rub.”
She laughed for the first time today. How a man could make her laugh the day her mother died, she’d never know. She pulled off her shirt, only slightly ignoring his warning, and plopped face down on the bed.
Ecstasy filled every cell in her body when Travis sat next to her and began massaging his strength into her shoulders, easing the stress and draining the thoughts of the day from her mind. His hands worked like a sedative, calming her nerves, soothing away the tension that had ripped through her temples the moment Wilma called.
Fearing she’d fall asleep, she began to talk. “You don’t know how many times I walked into that house wondering if I’d find her dead.” She took deep breaths as Travis continued to work on her muscles. “I’ve played the scenario over and over in my head so many times, anticipating this day. It actually turned out better than I thought.”
Travis didn’t speak, allowing her the time to collect her thoughts and sort out her feelings without interruption.
“I’m sorry Wilma had to find her, but if I were to be totally selfish here, I’d have to admit, I’m glad it wasn’t me.”
“You deserve to be selfish. You’ve earned it.”
Another flush of warmth swelled her heart, solidifying her notion that she could say anything to this man. “I’m glad she’s gone, Travis. I know that sounds horrible, but I’m so relieved she’s gone.”
His hands paused and for an instant she thought she’d crossed the line, but he sighed and resumed, telling her it wasn’t her words but his sorrow behind the pause.
“Were there ever good times for you and Carrie?”
“Before my dad died. I was four and Carrie was almost six. It’s so far in the past, I barely remember those days.”
“What was your father like?”
“He held everything together. He was a doctor. Mom had always been a drinker, but she’d maintained control back then. It wasn’t until after he died that her drinking accelerated.”
She stopped for a moment, thinking about those days as Travis continued working magic on her back, neck and shoulders.
“She fell apart when he died. Dad did everything for her. After he was gone, she started drinking more, going out to bars, looking for a replacement, I guess. The sad thing is, she might have remarried if she hadn’t been such a lush. All she had to do was hold it together for a few years, maybe meet a nice man, but she never had the strength.”
“You’re nothing like her, Rachel. You’re a strong woman. You know that, don’t you?”
She turned from Travis’s grasp and flipped over onto her back, wanting to sink into the eyes of this man who somehow knew exactly the right things to say at every turn.
“I know. People used to say that I took after my father and Carrie took after our mother. Do you think that’s why Carrie killed herself? Do you think it was just part of their DNA that caused them to be weak?”
He reached out and touched her cheek, filling her with a sense of calm that years of paid therapy could never achieve. His fingers laced through her hair, and she turned and pressed her lips to the palm of his hand, holding them there for an extra beat as she breathed in the spicy scent of his skin.
“I think that’s very possible. I know that even though you loved Carrie, underneath, you’re nothing like her. You’re a fighter.” He paused again, pensive, looking as though he were contemplating something. “Have there been many men in your life?” he finally asked.
His question caused a warm flush to splotch her face. Telling him about her lack of grief for Hattie had come so easily, so why was voicing her past relationship so difficult? It almost shamed her to admit her distorted view of love and sex to Travis, the only man ever to challenge that outlook. With him, intimacy was not cheap or tawdry. His touch didn’t make her skin crawl or send a barrage of memories ch
arging into her mind.
“There was one.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze, seeing only thoughtful curiosity in those whiskey-colored eyes. “We dated for about six months.”
“Did you love him?” Travis asked roughly, running a hand over her bare stomach.
“I kept telling myself I did, but I always knew deep down that I didn’t love him.” Bitterness climbed up her throat. She swallowed it back. “Not that it mattered. He didn’t love me, anyway.”
“But he told you he did?”
She nodded. “At the beginning, yes. He said all the right things. Once he got me into bed, though, he stopped saying them. He only wanted one thing from me and after he got it, he got bored and moved on.”
Travis frowned. “He was a fool.”
Though his firm words warmed her heart, Rachel found herself hesitating. She wondered what Travis’s intentions toward her were. How did he view their time together? He’d claimed to want more than a roll in the hay, but so far, he hadn’t broached the subject of where the two of them would go from here. She’d come to rely on him, and the thought that this was just something temporary troubled her. How would she ever be able to survive if, like Paul, Travis decided to move on?
Uncertainties clouded her head, but she feared raising them would make Travis push her away.
And right now, she only wanted him close to her.
“Make love to me,” she found herself whispering.
He didn’t say a word as he slowly reached for the button of her slacks. She didn’t care. She didn’t want him to say anything. She didn’t want to talk about her mother, or Paul, or where things stood between them. Not now.
She shivered as Travis pulled off her slacks and panties in one swift move, anticipation already coiling inside her. She watched as he shrugged out of his shirt, tossed it aside, then reached down to remove his jeans.
“I want to feel your skin against me,” she murmured.
With a nod, he shucked his boxer-briefs and splayed himself against her so that their bodies touched from shoulders to toes, his leg entwined in hers, his arms braced around her waist.
She dug her face into the crook of his neck and inhaled a deep breath of that clean, spicy scent. Gripping her waist, he lowered his head, his lips tickling her breast. He sucked one pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling a blizzard of pleasure through her veins. She wanted to return the pleasure. Kissing his shoulders, she attempted to reach between them.
“Ah.” He pulled her hand away. “Lie back and relax.”
He pressed his weight on her chest, his body warm, his lips soft. She wanted him to surround her like a cocoon, to fill her heart and soul, to act as a barrier between her and the outside world.
After slipping on a condom, he parted her legs and slid inside, slowly, calmly, stroking against her, massaging against her like he’d massaged her shoulders before. And, like before, she felt her body relax.
His deep brown eyes sank into hers, speaking words only the two of them could hear. She latched onto his back, wanting to pull him closer. She curved her back, wanting to draw him deeper. And still it wasn’t enough. She wanted every part of Travis to incorporate her soul.
Her eyelids went heavy as a ripple of sensation streaked up her spine. She was close, and his low groan told her he was too.
“Travis,” she whimpered.
“Let it go, sweetheart.” He thrust inside her again. “Let it all go.”
With his strong arms pulling her against him and his length stroking her most sensitive part, the rip of climax swept through her, arching her back and gripping her center around him.
Travis shot out a cry as her orgasm pulled him over the edge, sending him bucking against her, shuddering over her and draining inside her.
She grabbed his taut buttocks and pulled him deeper, wanting him to become a part of her and stay that way forever. His face buried in her hair, his chest panting over hers as his length pulsed inside her.
An unfamiliar emotion lodged in the back of her dry throat, but she closed her eyes, shutting out everything but the pleasure she felt right now. Tomorrow, she could figure out what that nagging little emotion meant. Tomorrow, she could gather the courage to ask Travis where he stood.
Tonight, she just wanted to fall asleep in his powerful arms and lose herself in him.
Chapter Nine
For the second day in a row, Rachel woke up entangled in Travis’s strong arms. With a smile, she wiggled her bottom against his groin and was rewarded with a sleepy moan. His arms tightened around her chest, pulling her close so that the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her lower back.
“I could get used to waking up like this,” he said huskily, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.
She rolled over, pushed him onto his back and straddled his naked body. The bed sheets were strewn in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed, a reminder of last night’s lovemaking. The comforter had been thrown off the side of the bed hours ago, and Rachel felt a rush of warmth as she thought of the naughty activities that had taken place in this room.
God, would she ever get enough of Travis? She didn’t think so. When she was with him, she always wanted more. And more. And more. For the first time in her life, she was being selfish, and she had to admit, it felt good.
“What do you want to do today?” she asked, running her fingers over the dark stubble on his chin.
He shot her a lazy grin. “Hmmm, let me think.”
“You’ve got a one-track mind, don’t you?” she teased.
“Says the woman who kept me up all night.”
Guilty pleasure warmed her body. “You’re right. I was bad last night. Wanna arrest me?”
A chuckle escaped his throat. “Let me find my handcuffs.”
She let out a laugh and wondered if she’d ever felt this happy in her entire life. No, she hadn’t. She’d never known happiness until Travis.
“Save that thought for later,” she said, jumping off him. “I’m hungry.”
He arched one brow. “Me too.”
“For food, Travis.”
“Right, food.”
She rose from the bed and walked over to her closet, where she pulled an emerald green silk robe off a hanger. She wrapped the robe around her body and tightened the sash, glancing back at the bed. “What do you like in your omelets?”
“Everything.”
He stood up and she nearly fainted at the sight of his glorious naked body. God, he really was a spectacular-looking man.
“Mind if I hop in the shower?” he asked.
“Go ahead. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
It was difficult to tear her gaze from him, but she forced herself to leave the bedroom. As she walked down the hall toward the kitchen, she suddenly froze.
Hattie was dead.
How on earth had she forgotten? Guilt washed over her like dirty bathwater, and she suddenly felt like the most despicable human being on the planet. Her mother had died yesterday, and it was the last thing on her mind. She was a terrible person.
No. You have every right to forget.
The little voice nagging in her mind made her straighten her back in determination. The voice was right. Hattie Foster had never been a mother to her. Mothers were supposed to love their children. Mothers were supposed to nurture and support, to offer strength and compassion. Something Hattie had never done.
Rachel breezed into the kitchen and began pulling items from the refrigerator. She wasn’t going to feel guilty for not mourning her mother. She would plan Hattie’s funeral, bid her a bittersweet farewell. Maybe she’d even have something nice written on the headstone.
Hattie Foster, mother of Carrie and Rachel.
Tears stung her eyes as she thought about her mother’s tombstone. She didn’t feel grief over Hattie’s death, but another emotion filled her chest. Pity. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she stood motionless in front of the marble kitchen counter.
“Rachel?”
For the first ti
me in weeks, Travis’s warm voice didn’t offer comfort. “God, I pity her so much,” she whispered between anguished sobs.
In a second, he crossed the room and took her into his embrace. She almost jumped at the feel of his bare, damp chest. Noticed he wore only a towel and remembered he’d been in the shower. But she couldn’t take the time to appreciate his exquisite form, not right now.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking her hair.
She pressed her face against his chest. “She was so troubled, Travis. The disease destroyed her, made her incapable of taking care of anyone, especially herself.”
“I know, baby.”
Rachel continued to cry. She cried for her mother, for all the pain and humiliation she’d suffered. She cried for Carrie, and the desperation she must have felt to take her own life. And then she pulled back, wiping her wet face and swallowing hard.
“We need to go to the hospital to talk to those surgeons,” she said, her voice firm. “Otherwise I’ll never be able to let go of the past.”
Travis nodded, and the compassion she saw in his eyes melted away her pain. “Let me get dressed.”
Two hours later, Rachel walked out the automatic front doors of Chicago General, feeling like the world had just crumbled around her. Her feet were like heavy weights as she trudged across the parking lot toward Travis’s SUV.
She couldn’t believe it was over. It was truly over.
As if reading her thoughts, Travis trailed after her and said, “It’s not over, Rachel.”
She stopped in front of the vehicle and shot him a hopeless look. “How can you say that? You were in there too.”
“Rachel.” He reached out to her, but she shrugged off his hand.
“You heard the man. Brad Frederick never laid eyes on Carrie in his life. He couldn’t help us. And Barry Forrester…” She took a breath. “The man is dead. He can’t help us either. It’s over. We’ll never know why Carrie…” Her voice trailed off.
When she looked at Travis, she saw steely determination in his smoky gaze. “It’s not over. We have one final lead to go on.”
Hope bloomed in her chest. “What lead?”