Body Heat (21 page)

“Okay.”

“You believe me?”

Her response was barely audible but sounded sincere. “I do.”

“That's my girl.”

He wasn't sure where that last remark had come from. It was a little too possessive; she wasn't
his
“girl.” But it'd slipped out, and he chose not to draw attention to it. Instead, he pushed up her shirt and rocked back to see her.

With the blinds drawn it was too dark to admire what she'd shown him earlier. But he didn't really mind. There was something incredibly erotic about having to rely on his other senses. He could get lost in making love to her without worrying about what his own expression revealed, wouldn't have to guard himself. That freedom seemed vitally important with Sophia, even though he'd never thought of it with anyone else. Maybe it was because of who she was and what she meant to his past.

Kneeling over her, he bent his head to run his lips across her stomach. He could smell some sort of fruity lotion and liked the scent. When her fingers delved into his hair, he took her hands and held them above her head as he slowly made his way up her abdomen to the tantalizing swell of one breast.

When his mouth closed over her, she shivered and he felt himself letting go, getting caught up in the moment. Suddenly, all that mattered was the way her hands moved to his head when he released them, the taste of her, and the fact that she wanted him.

The girl who'd stood him up for the big dance fifteen years ago, who'd turned up her nose at the half-breed bastard, was now trembling at his touch.

T
he rhythmic pull of Rod's mouth made heat pool in Sophia's belly. She liked the way he moved, but the reverence with which he handled her body surprised her. He didn't treat her as if this was cheap and easy, the means toward an ultimately selfish end. He acted as though every touch, every gasp, meant something.

The problems that had threatened to overwhelm Sophia—the murders, Leonard's desire for revenge, the fake picture he'd shown at the Firelight—seemed to break up and disperse, float away from her along with all her smaller concerns. Or maybe her problems weren't going anywhere. Maybe
she
was. Rod was carrying her to some far distant place, where there were no worries. Only physical sensation.
Exquisite
sensation.

She caught her breath as his deft fingers slipped beneath the elastic of her boxers. He wasn't someone who'd be able to give her what she wanted in the long term. She'd known that from the beginning. But he seemed to have exactly what she needed right now.

“You're perfect,” he said.

She jerked as he touched the most sensitive part of her, and he chuckled softly. “Look what I've found.”

“But do you know what to do with it?” she teased.

“I'll see if I can figure it out. Hmm…”

Darts of pleasure shot through Sophia and she writhed against his hand.

“That seems to work,” he said. “Yeah, you like that.”

She was breathing too hard to speak.

“You'll let me know when you're looking for something a little larger, right?”

The way her legs began to shake answered for her—and triggered a powerful response in him. She could sense it.

“You're so warm. So…wet,” he said, but he wasn't teasing anymore. The ragged edge to his voice told her he was being swept away, just as she was. He'd started their lovemaking slow and lazy, as if he planned to take hours. But she could already sense his mounting tension, his struggle to retain control of the desperate urge to reach completion. And his arousal excited her more than anything else.

Picturing his handsome face, because she couldn't actually see it, she arched upward, and he shoved her boxers down over her hips. A moment later, she lost them entirely. Her T-shirt, too. Soon they were both naked, kissing deeply, rubbing and tasting and straining….

“We'll do it again.” His words sounded more like an apology for being unable to wait. But she wouldn't have changed anything. She couldn't resist the compulsion that propelled her forward, either.

Wrapping her legs around his lean hips, she urged him to deliver what he'd promised almost since the day she'd first seen him, at Debbie's trailer. And he was more than willing to accommodate her. But he tried to do it gently. Supporting the bulk of his weight on his hands, he started to ease into her. But she craved force,
wanted
to be overpowered.

“Take me now, hard and fast,” she whispered, and that was all the encouragement he needed. Throwing his head back, he drove into her as powerfully as she'd asked him to, again and again, stretching, filling, satisfying.

“That's it—ah, that's it,” she gasped, and let the natural rhythm of their lovemaking take it from there. She was on a runaway train speeding into the night, and it had never been a more thrilling ride.

 

The bug he'd planted was too far away to pick up everything. But Leonard didn't have to hear each moan to know what was going on inside the house. Muted or not, those noises were pretty obvious. The chief of police was getting busy with someone, and it didn't require much effort to guess who.

With a smile, Leonard started his truck. They were making this almost too easy for him.

 

It was morning. When Rod lifted his head, he could see the glimmer of sunlight around the blinds. But Sophia was still sleeping.

Shifting carefully so he wouldn't wake her, he studied her sleeping face and bare breasts in what little light filtered into the room and chuckled as he thought about how freely she'd encouraged him to let go of all restraint. Their lovemaking had been fulfilling. Satisfying. The best. Because she made love as passionately and fearlessly as she did everything else—driving her Harley, wielding that battering ram, showing up at the safe house even though he'd told her not to.

He remembered her chasing him through town the day he'd arrived, lights flashing, siren screaming and blare
horn held out the window with one hand.
Pull to the side of the road!

“What's so funny?” she muttered sleepily, but moved the arm she'd flung over her head, covering her chest as if his close perusal made her self-conscious.

He hadn't realized she was awake. Knowing she wouldn't find their chase as funny as he did, he wiped the smile from his face and came up with a scowl to replace it. “Nothing. I'm just mad that you didn't let me get any sleep last night, that's all.”

She arched her eyebrows at him. “You wanted to make love three times in two hours, and you're blaming
me?
”

Running a finger down the length of her tattoo sleeve, he grinned. He hadn't liked all that ink when he'd first seen it. But he did now. Somehow it suited her. “The room was dark, so I pretended you were someone else.”

She wasn't buying it. “You knew exactly who I was,” she said, rolling her eyes.

That was the point. She'd been different from every other woman. Better. But he wasn't about to admit it.

“You were probably pretending we were back in high school and doing it in the cab of some pickup after the Homecoming Dance. Maybe you were even dreaming that Stuart stumbled upon us. Vindicated at last, right?”

Because she'd hit somewhere fairly close to the truth—he hadn't needed to pretend they were in high school, but it had been particularly satisfying to get what he'd wanted for so long—he laughed. “Not yet, but it's not too late.” Rising up on one elbow, he nuzzled her neck. “How 'bout you put on your old cheerleader uniform?”

“I was wondering when we were going to get to that,” she said dryly.

“Without the little panties,” he added.

She hid a yawn. “You have cheerleader fantasies?”

Only when it came to her. “I could put on a cowboy hat and play the wealthy rancher, pretend to be someone you'd consider good enough.”

She winced as though he'd slapped her, and he instantly regretted the barbed reminder. He wasn't even sure why he'd said it.

“I have to get up,” she mumbled, and moved away from him, taking the bedding with her.

“I didn't mean anything by that,” he said.

“Yes, you did. You still resent me, still want to punish me for how I treated you in the past. To you, I'm no different from Bruce or Stuart or any of the other Dunlaps.”

“Sophia—”

“Don't worry about it. You wanted me, and I rejected you. And now you've come back to town and nailed the girl who turned you down. Your job is done. Except for rubbing Stuart's nose in the fact that you got what he wanted, of course. There's still that to enjoy.”

He sat up. “I said I wouldn't tell anyone, and I meant it.”

“Go ahead. Like I said last night, I don't have much more to lose.”

“What were you talking about?” he asked, but he never got an answer. The doorbell interrupted them.

Her gaze darted to the clock—7:10. “It's too early for visitors,” she murmured, and dropped the bedding so she could pull on some clothes.

She didn't need to say it. He knew what she was thinking: More murders.

 

Bruce Dunlap was waiting on Sophia's doorstep, dressed in his usual—jeans and a golf shirt with cowboy
boots. Only today he was also wearing a worried expression. He was about the last person she'd expected to see. He'd never visited her at home. She'd thought it was Officer Fitzer coming by to break some news that was too catastrophic to be shared over the phone.

So what was this? What could Bruce Dunlap possibly want from her?

Self-consciously smoothing down her hair, she glanced at the bedroom door, which she'd closed as she came out. Rod was behind that door. She shouldn't have let him stay with her, shouldn't have let herself get intimately involved. She'd known that. He'd come back to Bordertown to prove he was better than everyone who'd once shut him out or looked down on him. And that included her. But she wasn't going to let him laugh victoriously while breaking her heart.

Good thing her heart had nothing to do with it. She'd wanted what he had to offer last night. It was that simple. She wasn't willing to torture herself with regret, wouldn't make it more than it was. As long as she didn't care about him any more deeply than he cared about her, she'd be fine.

Wondering what Bruce wanted, she opened the door, but because she had his illegitimate son hidden away in her bedroom, she stood in the doorway rather than invite him in. “Bruce. What can I do for you?”

He adjusted his baseball cap. “Sorry to bother you, Sophia, but I stopped by the station to see Officer Fitzer and he suggested I talk to you.”

She couldn't imagine Joe had meant he should drag her out of bed, but she didn't mention that. Bruce was obviously upset. “About what?”

“He said you were working graveyard last night.”

“That's true…”

Drawing a deep breath, he scratched his neck. “You didn't run into Stuart in town, did you?”

She thought of the vandalized motel room and wondered if Bruce had heard about that but didn't bring it up in case he hadn't. She wanted to see where this conversation was going first. “No, I didn't.” Even after they'd started actively looking for him. “Why?”

“He hasn't shown up for work today. We're doing a lot of soil prep, getting ready to plant. He was supposed to drive the tractor.”

“What time?”

“Six. We'd planned to meet in the clearing, but he wasn't there. He's never done that before.”

“You've checked his house, of course.”

“Of course. From the looks of it, he never came home last night.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Extremely.”

“Maybe he had too much to drink and passed out somewhere.”

“Where? I've spent the past thirty minutes driving through town, hoping to see some sign of him or his truck. But he just…disappeared.”

“Could he be with a woman?”

“You're the only one he talks about.”

“I didn't necessarily mean someone he was interested in dating.”

He shifted his feet. “You're talking about a call girl or a hooker?”

“Maybe someone from Douglas or Sierra Vista,” she said. Or Trudy. Sophia knew Stuart visited her on occasion.

“If so, it'd be the first time he's pulled this. I can't even get him on his cell.”

“It's still early.”

“Listen, Patrick told me something that has his mother a little…concerned.”

Bruce seemed concerned, too. “What's that?”

“He said that Roderick came by last night, looking for Stuart. According to Pat, Rod wouldn't say what he wanted, but he seemed angry, upset.”

“You're not suggesting Rod had anything to do with Stuart's disappearance.”

There was a moment of silence as he stared at the ground. Then he said, “No, I can't believe that. I wouldn't have asked Rod to come back here if I thought something like that could ever happen. Except…except I know there's never been any love lost between them. And Edna…” He blew out a sigh.

“Edna?” she repeated, prompting him to finish.

He rubbed his face. “She's sure Rod's the devil incarnate. She won't give him a chance, never has. I hoped bringing him back to Bordertown might…I don't know…allow us to do things…better. He's never really had a family. I feel guilty about that. But maybe I was stupid to think our relationship would be different now that so much time has passed. Edna is as bitter as she ever was. Maybe more so. What happened thirty years ago is a thorn in her side that still festers.”

That was a lot for Bruce to reveal. He'd certainly never taken Sophia into his confidence before. She knew he wouldn't be doing it now if he wasn't so upset. And although he stopped short of saying Edna had become impossible to live with, she got the impression they'd just had a big argument. The push-pull of his obligations to
his legitimate family and the guilt he felt for neglecting his illegitimate son obviously ate at him and had been eating at him as long as that thorn had been festering in his wife's side. Sophia actually felt sorry for him.

“If it'll help, I know why Rod was looking for Stuart,” she said.

He'd been nervously jingling the change in his pocket, but at this, he went still. “You do?”

“Someone trashed his motel room last night. He wanted to ask Stuart about it.”

“Why would Stuart do that?”

Her cell phone vibrated. She could hear it shaking against the counter, where she'd plugged it in to charge after coming home last night. But she made no move to answer. She'd call whoever it was back after she'd finished speaking to Bruce. “I think you already know.”

“But are you sure it wasn't an attempted burglary or—”

“Nothing was stolen, Bruce. Someone cut up Rod's clothes, wrote obscenities on the wall, broke his computer, that sort of thing.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. I wanted him to feel welcome, accepted. So he's not staying at the Mother Lode anymore?”

“He couldn't. His room had to be cleaned and repaired. Even the door was broken.”

“The door seemed fine a few minutes ago. His Hummer wasn't in the lot, but I knocked to be sure he wasn't there.”

Apparently, Leland had managed to get the door fixed. He'd probably known all along that it wouldn't take much, but he preferred to rent to someone who didn't attract trouble. No doubt he also realized that he could now demand
a higher price, given the sudden shortage of lodging. “It was broken when I was there after ten.”