Conviction of the Heart (13 page)

And she wanted to avoid it, for now. Someone this focused could be very dangerous, especially if pushed. If she simply let it ride, maybe…just maybe, the moment would pass.

She frowned as she recognized some of the landmarks entering McKees Rocks. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere I know you’ll be safe.”

A nervous chuckle escaped her. Irony always seemed a good weapon in inexplicable circumstances. “Maybe I should assume you planted that guy so I’d feel like I had to come home with you.”

His sharp look pricked her conscience.

“Nick, I’m…teasing. I know this isn’t you.” She fidgeted in her seat. “Look, it’s scary, all right? But I don’t want to take it too seriously. If I do, I give him power.”

He jumped on the word like a pouncing cat. “’Him?’”

“Him. Her. Whoever.”

Nick pulled into the driveway of a good-sized duplex and parked. The front light was on, revealing a bare minimum of landscaping. Apparently he didn’t use his garden equipment much at home. She had no real objection to being there. In fact, she did feel safer. She’d noticed him watching to see whether someone followed them. If she’d gone home, she would have been terrified.
Whether I would have admitted it to myself or not.

She didn’t wait for him this time, but opened her own door. He met her on her side of the truck, then locked the door with the push of a button, his eyes scanning the street above and below the duplex. She felt a bit like a celebrity or politician, with an official bodyguard guaranteeing her safety.

It felt good.

He walked her to the door, staying on the street side, not touching her, but very close. Inside, he hung his keys on a hook next to the door, then lit a small lamp on a thin polished table under the hook, before he reset the house alarm.

“We won’t be disturbed,” he said in answer to her raised eyebrow. “Now come here.” He hooked her waist with one hand and drew her close, wrapping his arms around her. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d wanted him to do that—how much she needed comfort. This had frightened her more than she wanted to acknowledge. She let her arms slide around him, too, laying her head on his broad chest. His heart beat, strong and quick, filled her ears. He was worked up about what had happened. In contrast, the longer she stayed in his arms, the more she calmed down.

Finally, she pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes, which were warm, welcoming. He leaned down, seemingly in slow motion, and brushed his lips against hers, several times, very lightly, as if testing her.

In a single breath, she returned to that feeling that had encompassed her at the theater, when he’d kissed her. The envelope faded from her thoughts as the roar of passion took over, parting her lips as she responded to him
.
He reacted in a rush of heat, holding her tight, pressing his lips against hers—impossibly soft lips for a man, but full and firm and exactly what she needed right at that moment.

He slowly backed her up against the closed door. Its unyielding surface against her spine reminded her of herself, so often, unwilling to even open herself to a man again. But her focus moved from her back to what waited in front of her. He let go, not touching her, the tiny distance between them drenched in heat and longing. She felt each inch of her almost reaching out for his, wanting the warmth of his skin next to her again.

The magic she’d sensed when he’d kissed her at the concert returned to replace the fear caused by the man with the envelope, and she mentally grabbed for it, needing a real dose of magic. Aware of his hands, now one on either side, flat against the door, maintaining that space between them, but containing her, she should have felt trapped, but instinct spoke, telling her nothing threatened her here. She slipped a hand around his waist to draw him closer, but he held back, going slow, letting his mouth speak for him.

She went with his intuition then, as their lips first brushed softly against each other, then became more insistent. His tongue tasted her lips in a gentle circle, a cautious explorer in unfamiliar territory. A moan of pleasure escaped from her, and her tongue met his, inviting him to continue.

His hands moved to her shoulders, his fingers exploring as he leaned closer to kiss her more deeply.

She let one hand slide up his back, fingernails trailing along those broad muscles she’d admired so often. He moved under her hand, a growl coming from his throat. She pulled him close, wanting to feel the length of the man along her own body. He allowed it this time, and she reveled in his strength and heat, let him press toward the fantasy world of lovemaking, where she could set the real world aside, the burdens and responsibilities, and just be in that moment, just for herself.

His kisses, relentless in their demands for her desire, felt like hot brands as they moved from lips to cheek, to throat. Distracted by his lips, her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. Persisting, she pulled the shirt open and found her fingertips buried in the thick hair she’d noticed earlier. She let them frolic there briefly before sliding them around to the muscled back once again, drawing Nick to her.

Only after she’d removed his shirt did he move to do the same to her. She guessed he remained partly on alert, despite his precautions. Regardless, he let her set the pace...whatever part of her brain was still thinking logically noted this. The rest was overcome in the rush of long-suppressed ardor. Like Pandora’s box, when this hidden cache of libido was released, Suzanne knew she wouldn’t be able to control it.

Once their flushed bodies touched one another, naked flesh against naked flesh, there was no doubt where they would end up. Nick’s hands set her afire, caressing erect nipples, smoothing along the curve of her hip with an almost possessive feel. Her fingertips traveled his contours, finding him mostly well-toned muscle, taut with wanting her, ending with the most obvious evidence of his desire, the erection that pulsed against her thigh.

“Are you sure?” he whispered in her ear, his breath a hot burst of stimulation.

Her thoughts were awhirl, anticipating their union. “Yes, hurry,” she said.

She caught the smile on his face as he turned off the light and took her to the bedroom, pulling the covers aside in one smooth movement. He crawled onto the white sheets before reaching for her hand.

“Come here,
bella donna
,” he said, persuading her with a squeeze of his fingers.

She slid next to him, the cool sheets doing nothing to slack her carnal appetite. Arms and legs tangled, seeming to fit together so perfectly. They learned each other from every angle, their salty taste, their scents. She reveled in the molding of his strong sinews; he whispered his praises of her soft skin.

Finally, poised above her, he looked down, lust in his eyes. She moved her hips in rhythm with his urgent thrusts, the building explosion in her loins held off as long as she could, savoring the feelings, delaying that final satisfaction until they burst together with cries of pleasure.

In the cloud of sated warmth that followed, Suzanne’s fingers traced Nick’s strong chin with something close to reverence. No man had ever made her feel this way. She tried to put off her thinking mind, the one that wondered where the police lieutenant had learned his skills as a lover, the one that allowed worries to trickle back in.

This moment. Only this moment.

She laid back and closed her eyes, half-aware of Nick covering her with the blankets and snuggling close to her as she let afterglow take her away into blissful sleep.

Chapter Twelve

In the morning, Nick watched Suzanne as she slept, her brow unfurrowed by worries. He considered the weight she must carry on her shoulders each day, responsible not only for her own two daughters, but the lives of so many others. Some of them unhinged, apparently. Yet she carried on—and could still sleep like an innocent child.

His leg started to cramp, and he stretched cautiously. It was enough to disturb her. She rolled over, the light from the window over the bed revealing a small blue butterfly on her left shoulder blade. He reached a finger to gently trace its wings. She stirred at his touch.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just—”

She smiled, a rush of pink coming into her cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, who knew there were lawyers with tattoos, huh?” She covered her tousled head with the sheet.

“You’d be surprised.” Nick had, in fact, been surprised when he’d belonged to the upscale fitness club that catered to Suzanne’s colleagues. While keeping himself toned, he’d noticed a number of interesting bits of ink normally concealed in court by those Armani suits. Who knew?

“A permanent reminder of a temporary feeling,” he said with a chuckle.

“What?” She peeked out over the edge of the sheet.

“Something Jimmy Buffett said.” He turned to his back, showing her the bright-colored parrot on his right shoulder. “Confessions of a Parrothead.”

That made her laugh. “Secrets all over the place.” She pushed herself upright, blinked at the light coming in the window. “What time is it?”

He looked at the bedside table. “Ten.”

“What?” She nearly jumped out of bed, and he got his first chance to view that lovely body in daylight. Just seeing it reminded him of the night before, and his body reacted, stimulated by those memories. He’d not be coming out from under the sheets, not just yet.

“You have someplace to be, counselor?”

“Um. No. Just…” She bit her lip. “Just getting my bearings, I guess. Which way to the bathroom again?”

He pointed her the way, grateful as it gave him a chance for a more sedate recovery after she stepped out. He grabbed his blue terry bathrobe and tied the belt around his waist before he went to make a pot of coffee, one of his favorite brews, the beans roasted dark as night. Suzanne would probably like it.

While it brewed, he retrieved another bathrobe, this one in maroon velour. He listened at the bathroom door a moment, heard the water running in the shower, and just opened the door a crack to hang the robe on a hook inside. He thought a moment about joining her in the steamy tub. As much as another romp appealed to him, he’d worked too hard to win her trust to jeopardize it by rushing her into something. He decided against it, and closed the door instead. Besides, he needed to make sure they were safe.

His service revolver had been in reach all night, and he’d slept lightly, half-listening for anything amiss. Nothing. He stepped out onto the front step to retrieve the morning paper, taking a long look around. No suspicious signs of a foreign presence appeared, no footprints, no marks on the truck, as far as he could see, no tire tracks in the driveway. His effort not to be followed as he left the city apparently succeeded.

He locked the door again, retreating to the kitchen to check on the progress of the coffee. Now that he saw the living room in daylight, he noticed that mad rush to the bedroom had created quite the piles of detritus. A bit chagrined, he snatched up his own clothes and took them to the hamper in the bedroom.

The fact that someone had tracked Suzanne to the Benedum alarmed him more than he’d let her know. If someone had come to her office, or her home, that would have been at least expected. Clearly whoever had sent her the pictures meant to give her a message that she could be in danger anywhere.

It was just the sort of thing Greg Morgan would do.

Nick’s decision to recommend Suzanne to Maddie had been for all the right reasons: to put Maddie into the hands of experienced counsel who’d take care of her through the circus that was the system. He’d never have done it, if he’d known it would set Greg on Suzanne’s tail. Though he knew Maddie through some social contacts at his mother’s church and community center, Nick had run afoul of Greg Morgan on a couple of occasions, when Nick was interested in pursuing his duty, and Morgan was trying to get away with something. Nick had never been important enough for Greg to remember his name. Until now.

First, Morgan coming to talk to Reichert about Nick, now this? Oh yes, something was up.

His mind turned to more practical considerations. Even though he’d hoped he and Suzanne would spend the night together, he hadn’t really planned for it. “Breakfast,” he muttered to himself, tearing his thoughts away from the woman in his shower. He wasn’t sure what he had in the refrigerator. He sure hoped there was something.

He leaned on the door as he studied the contents of his refrigerator. Half a pizza in a plain white box. Some Italian takeout from the week before. Four bottles left from a six-pack of dark beer. Half a carton of orange juice. A loaf of sourdough bread. Mustard, horseradish. On the bottom shelf he found some chopped ham and a carton of eggs, which seemed promising till he looked inside. Three eggs? Really?

Nick sighed.

He stared a little longer, as if he could magically change what lay on the shelves in front of him by sheer force of will. The shower quit running. A few minutes later, the bathroom door whispered open, and he caught a glimpse of a maroon robe coming up behind him. She moved quietly, but he restrained himself from a startled reaction.
Never sneak up on a cop, honey.

“I’m starving,” she said, her voice soft like syrup.

“That’s a shame,” he said. “We could get dressed and—”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Let’s not.” She pushed past him, taking the juice out of the refrigerator, along with the ham, bread, eggs and mustard. “This’ll work.”

He watched, amused, as she slathered mustard on four slices of bread, then scrambled the eggs in the microwave, layering them on the bread with the ham. A minute under the broiler, and they had breakfast fit for—well, for a single man, and a woman used to making do.

“A woman of many talents, I see,” he said.

“You have no idea.” She chuckled. “Least you could do is pour the coffee.”

“Well, if it’s the least I could do…” Nick laughed and took a second cup from the cupboard, and filled it to a half-inch from the top. He thought he remembered she took cream. If he had cream. Frowning, he looked in the refrigerator again. Nope. He had the powdered stuff in the closet, though, so he got that out. His Boy Scout leader would be horrified at his failure to be prepared. He might even lose a badge or two.