Cold Target (38 page)

“That's cruel.”

“I was wrong.”

“No, you weren't. A lot of people say that about me.”

“They don't know you.”

“And you do.”

“I'm getting there. Slowly.” Her smile was like a gift.

His dessert came. A huge piece of Key lime pie.

He took a forkful and offered it to her.

She opened her mouth and ate it. “Hmmm, that's good.”

They shared the rest of it, their gazes seldom leaving the other.

It was gone much too quickly. He ordered a barbeque sandwich for Beast, shrugging at her amusement. “I forgot his dog food.”

“That should make him happy.”

“That will make him ecstatic. You give it to him, and he'll be your friend for life.”

They smiled stupidly at each other again. Gage wondered what in the hell was happening to him. He was acting like an adolescent in love for the first time.

Just then the waitress brought the sandwich and bill. Meredith started to protest as he took it, and he silenced her with a look. “You can pay for breakfast.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It was an abrupt reminder that they were partners, two people working together to solve a mystery. Well, dammit, wasn't that what he wanted?

Meredith wondered how she had ever thought him cold and arrogant.

He'd said very little about her parents. Sympathy probably would have induced a fountain of tears. Instead he had transported her for a few hours to a safe place. A warm and comforting place.

He stopped briefly at a drugstore. She bought some shampoo while he made his purchases, then they returned to the motel. He drove around it several times, his eyes watchful.

“You don't think …?”

“I don't want to take chances.”

Then he parked and they went inside. He unlocked the door and made it clear he wanted to enter first even though Beast would have probably scared the stuffing out of anyone who dared go inside.

Beast
was
ecstatic at their return and even more so about the barbecue sandwich. Surprisingly, instead of gulping it in two or three bites, he was very much the gentleman, taking it piece by piece and savoring it, then licking his chops in appreciation.

Then he returned to his place at the full-length window.

Gage took her hand and she looked up at him. Magic enveloped them. He brushed her cheek with his hand, then gently traced patterns along the back of her neck, the very lightness of the touch making it incredibly erotic. Her every nerve ending tingled with expectancy, and she was filled with an aching hunger as his lips moved from her mouth to the hollow of her throat with scorching thoroughness.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, and she felt beautiful.

Her fingers went to the back of his neck, catching locks of his hair, and she felt him tense, just as she had. The air in the room was charged now, dense with voltaic energy.

This time he was taking time to seduce her. His mouth returned to hers, played against it, loving, teasing. Every part of her body ached and quivered and strained toward him as she met him kiss for kiss.

When his lips parted from hers, he touched her face as if reluctant to lose contact.

She leaned against him, needing the warmth to fill the cold emptiness and fear of the last few days, the loneliness and grief. He was a loner. She knew that. There were no promises. But she would grab these moments and know that for tonight she was wanted.

His eyes searched hers. Then he kissed her again, but this time there was no gentleness, as if he were trying to banish something. Or prove something.

There was desperation, urgency, demand … a primitive need so strong it set ablaze every feeling part of her. She'd never thought herself a sensual person but now she knew how wrong she'd been. Her heart, her body, her senses were swamped by the pure animal vitality of him, the magnetism of his eyes, the magic of his touch.

She didn't care if there was a tomorrow for them. She needed him tonight. She needed to fill all the empty places in her heart.

There was tonight, and it was a gift she'd never expected.

She led him to the bed. She undressed him while he undressed her, both taking their time, fingers lingering and lips meeting. Then he lowered her to the bed.

He opened the packet he'd purchased, then moved next to her, stroking her skin, then leaning down to kiss her breasts. Jolts of electricity ran through her.

This time he entered her with tantalizing deliberation. Every sane thought dissolved as he proceeded with maddening slowness, each movement arousing sensations that made her clasp him with her legs, pulling him deeper and deeper inside. Heat flooded her as they moved together. Pleasure rolled through her like rumbles of thunder, each wave more powerful than the one before as momentum mounted, and she was lost in one great storm of flashing lightning and bursts of splendor.

twenty-four

B
ISBEE

Holly sat on the porch with Doug Menelo. The sky was a very dark blue and it appeared that a million stars were blinking down at them.

She'd never seen so many stars in New Orleans. City lights and smog diffused them.

But here there was no smog and few lights. The stars reigned in all their glory. A few lacy clouds paid court.

Fanciful thoughts. But she was full of fancy these days. Hope had replaced fear.

Harry was inside, sleeping. Doug had stopped over to fix a leak in the kitchen water pipes. She was beginning to rely more and more on him, even as a voice inside told her how dangerous it was.

The night they went to the movie, they'd returned to a rain shower and a leak in the roof. He'd fixed it the next day, along with some sagging steps.

It had been a natural progression of a relationship she'd not been able to end. She liked his company too much. She liked the way he made her feel, as if she were someone of importance. He was funny and kind and decent to the core. He was also straightforward.

She longed to discard the glasses she didn't need, to add a touch more of makeup, to forget the dye that made her hair so unmemorable. She wanted to look nice for him, not because she wanted to impress his friends, but because he made her feel more than she was.

She couldn't do that. Still, he liked the plain person she'd tried so hard to make herself into.

“Thanks for fixing the leak,” she said.

“Thanks for the beef stew. It was terrific.”

Pleasure flooded her. She had never cooked much until she'd left New Orleans. There had always been someone else to do it. She found a new joy in finding recipes and experimenting.

This recipe had been in a local fund-raising recipe book, and she'd added just a touch of red wine to it. It had been, she'd told herself, the least she could do when he was repairing things.

They'd had the rest of the wine with the meal although she had only sipped at one glass. She couldn't afford to get giddy.

She knew she shouldn't invite his attentions. She kept reminding herself that he was a lawman and she was an outlaw. But every time she vowed she wouldn't see him again, something happened that drew them together. And she didn't want to deprive Harry of his Saturday horseback rides.

That was the excuse she kept giving herself.

But she was getting in deeper and deeper. She had watched him as he'd fixed the leak. He stretched out on the floor, the taut muscled arms visible with his sleeves rolled up.

She couldn't imagine Randolph fixing anything. Except an election.

And every time Doug looked at her with those dark eyes, her heart skipped in response.…

“A quarter for your thoughts,” he said.

“They're probably not worth more than that penny.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“It's just … everything is so lovely out here. Quiet. I've never seen so many stars before.”

“You fit this land.”

She glanced at him. “Why?”

“It's always taken courage to move and resettle, particularly alone. And a resilience.” He looked embarrassed as he faltered for a moment. “There's a lot of strength in you.”

Strength? She'd always been the weakest person she knew. She had allowed herself to be molded by her mother, then used by her father and her husband. She'd been reading a lot about abuse. She realized now that she had been emotionally abused for years. And she had allowed it to happen.

“I wish you were right.”

He was silent for a moment. “If you ever need to talk … I'm a good listener.”

Her gaze met his. Her heart caught. He was saying something else altogether. He knew something was wrong. He was offering his help. How she wanted to grab it!

“I'll remember that,” she forced herself to reply lightly.

He sighed and his hand reached over and clasped hers. “I'm good at fixing things.” It was obvious that he didn't mean pipes or roofs.

But he couldn't “fix” her problem, not without getting involved. Her husband and father wouldn't hesitate to destroy him. Or even kill him if he got in their way, as she had. And then what would happen to Jenny?

A shiver ran through her. He pulled her to him and put his arm around her. Then he leaned over and his lips brushed against hers. She'd never had a kiss like it. Gentle. Tender. Persuasive.

She couldn't.

She had killed a man, no matter the reason. She was married to a murderer. A very powerful one.

She pulled away. “I'm sorry.…”

“Liz?”

“It's too soon. It's much too soon,” she babbled. She wanted him so badly. She wanted his touch, his embrace. She wanted to love and be loved.

He was watching her closely. Then he stood. “I'm sorry, too. I took too much for granted.” His voice wasn't angry. Just sad.

“I … I …” She shook her head, turned and ran inside. She didn't want him to see the tears, the anguish of wanting what he was so openly offering.

“Liz?” He stood in the doorway.

She swallowed past the enormous lump in her throat. “Please go,” she said.

He was a large shadow in the doorway. He gave her a quirky smile that was part puzzlement, part hurt. Well, she had led him on. Even cooked a meal for him. What did she expect him to think?

Despite her plea, he stood there, compassion written on his face. It was obvious that he knew something was wrong, terribly wrong.

“I … loved my husband. I can't …”

But she feared her eyes were saying something else. She had taken off the glasses as she'd made supper, and she wondered whether she was looking at him with the same longing that was in his eyes.

“Has someone hurt you?” he asked softly.

“No. I just feel wicked. Unfaithful.”

“Harry never talks about him.”

He was persistent. He was also moving toward her. His hand went to her cheek and he wiped something away.

She didn't realize she'd been crying.

She struggled for her composure. She felt the palm of his hand against her cheek. For a few seconds, she leaned into it, treasured one of the few tender touches she'd known.

Then he took it away. “I'll always be there for you, Liz,” he said. “No matter what.”

But he wouldn't be. Not if he knew the truth
.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for supper. I get tired of my own cooking.” She heard a forced lightness in his voice.

“You worked for your supper.”

“So I did.”

He regarded her with somber concern mixed with frustration. Then he picked up the box of tools he'd brought.

“Are we still on for riding Saturday?”

No
. She should pack tonight and leave in the morning before daybreak.

She nodded.

“Good night then.”

“Good night.”

The door closed quietly behind him but she still heard the sound of his boots against the wood of the small porch.

She wanted to run out after him. She wanted to tell him everything.

Instead she looked out the window as he pulled away. The stars were almost gone, shrouded by clouds that had grown from mere wisps to heavy, purple billows.

She looked down. Her hands were clenched in front of her as the sound of his car faded away.

Don't go
.

N
EW
O
RLEANS

Gage followed Meredith back to the city. They had stopped at a drive-through restaurant in Jackson, then at a rest stop to eat and let Beast out.

It was a gloomy day. The rain that had fallen on and off throughout the drive seemed to foreshadow the next day, when the funeral would be held.

She had placed a call to Mrs. Edwards and had asked her to contact caterers for the gathering after the service. It would be at her parents' home again. It would be the second one in a week.

She wished there had been a way they could have driven back together, but they both needed their vehicles. The break for lunch helped, even the fact that Beast slobbered all over her.

They sat next to each other on a picnic bench like any other couple. But despite last night—and the passion that had raged between them—they were not a couple. He had been gentle and tender and passionate and fierce. He had made her body sing in ways she'd never thought possible.

And it had felt so very good when she'd gone to sleep in his arms and woke in them.

They hadn't spoken of love or commitment. The spectre of her parents' marriage haunted her, keeping her from uttering them.

She never loved me
. She kept hearing those words over and over again as she drove.

Then why had her parents married?

If she knew that, then she might have more clues as to what had happened.

She suspected Gage had ghosts of his own. She looked in the rearview mirror. Gage was still right behind her. Beast's head visible on the left side. She smiled. When she had met him years ago, she never would have suspected Gage Gaynor of being such a complex man. She kept finding new layers to him.