Forever My Love (17 page)

“I've already gotten it,” she said to him. Her eyes remained on the receiver while she said, “Hello?”

She listened for a moment, her smile growing plastic. “Yes,” she said at last. Then she thrust the phone at him.

“Who is it?”

“Marla Harrington. I was going to tell her that your mouth was occupied but I don't think she would have cared. She's insisting on talking to you. She's terribly sweet. She told me that she'd see me Friday, too, but I'd have to understand that there were things between you two and she needed some time alone.”

Her plastic smile remaining in place, she thrust the receiver into his hands. He watched the rigid squaring of her shoulders as she walked away.

“Hello?” he said to Marla.

He didn't hear her answer at first. Kathy had turned around, and as he watched her, the voice on the phone seemed to fade. In the long tailored shirt that reached down to her upper thighs, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her makeup all scrubbed away, and with her back nearly arched and her claws just about showing, she was a picture of dangerous appeal. Her eyes flashed at him, beautiful deep blue, and little tendrils of her hair curled around her classic features, framing them.

“Brent, are you listening to me?” Marla was saying.

“Uh, yes, yes, I heard you.” What the hell had she said?

“I'll talk to you more at the benefit, but I know Johnny thought you knew something, too. I think Johnny knew exactly what was going on, but he didn't believe what the consequences would be until it was too late. Brent, I do think you have the key somewhere.”

She wasn't telling him anything, Brent thought wearily. Just the same old stuff.

“Yeah, sure, thanks. I'll see you Friday,” he said, then told her goodbye and hung up. Kathy had laid out the plates. He sat down and sipped his coffee, watching her.

“There really isn't anything between Marla and me, you know.”

“Hey, what's it to me?” she said sweetly. She took a delicate bite of egg, then smiled at him. “But if you touch that bathing suit, I'll break your arms.”

He smiled and set down his fork. “When I leave, it's coming with me.”

“A present for Marla? Not on your life.”

He groaned and bit into a piece of bacon. They heard Sam start to bark, and the bell out by the gate began to ring.

Brent leaped up. Kathy looked at him, her eyes widening suspiciously.

“I've got to go,” he said.

“Where?”

“It's all right. Someone is coming to stay with you, and I'm going to my place and to my studio with Robert. I'm going to go through every damn thing I have and try to find out whatever this number is that's causing all of this.”

“If you find a number, what good will it do you? There are numbers on everything. What good is a number?”

“Kathy, I've got to go. I'll be back later.”

She thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn't. He paused, then walked to the door.

A few minutes later, there were two young men in jeans and T-shirts at the door with Brent. One was working very hard on getting to know Sam. The other offered her his hand and a grin.

Then Brent was there, behind the two. “Kathy, these are Detectives Clinton and Barker—”

“Jerry,” the darker of the two said.

“Steve,” the second told her, reaching out a hand. They were both young and friendly and smiling with open admiration.

Kathy realized she was barely dressed. Brent was less than subtle about it. “Kathy, will you please go put something on?”

She flashed him a furious gaze. “I wasn't expecting company, remember?” she asked sweetly.

She stared at him then turned. His gaze remained implanted in her mind—the condemning, hard gold in his eyes, the tightness in his features. She strode into her bedroom and pulled out shorts and a tank top. Then she sat on the bed, a tempest of emotions roiling within her.

Damn him! He didn't want her, but it seemed he didn't want anyone else to have her, either. She should call Axel and apologize.

But she didn't want to apologize. And even as she wondered just what the relationship was between Marla and Brent, she knew she really didn't care about Axel. Oh, she did, as a friend. He was a very nice man, a good man. He just wasn't…wonderful.

And Brent was.

She rose and dressed, and when she came out, she offered the plainclothesmen coffee and breakfast, but they had just eaten. They were both great guys, easy, relaxed. Still, they were making her a nervous wreck.

She tried to work. She did manage to plan a few layouts. She talked to Patty and found out her picture had been in the paper. She had been standing next to Brent at the funeral and people were speculating.

There was nothing to speculate about, Kathy assured her. She asked Patty to sit tight. The police wanted them under guard for a while, that was all.

She hung up and tried to work again. She wanted to talk to Shanna, but she knew she couldn't.

She was sitting there, still trying to work, when the phone rang. She answered it and was surprised to find that the caller was Marla Harrington again.

“Kathy, is he around anywhere?” Marla asked her.

“Uh, no, not now. Why? What is it?”

“I just wanted you to know…” The other woman hesitated.

“Know what?” Kathy demanded, exasperated.

Then Marla started to talk in a rush. “I care about him, you know, I really care about him. I'm not trying to cause trouble or anything like that. It's just that…you hurt him. You're bad for him. He was just starting to get a new life. You should…you should leave him alone!”

“Marla, I'm sorry, I don't know what to say to you. I didn't come to Brent. Brent came to me.”

“You don't understand. I don't know what he's said to you, but it may not be the truth. He's trying to protect you, but…he's going to marry me. He asked me to marry him. We weren't exactly living together, but we were together most nights. Don't get involved. You'll hurt everyone.”

“Marla—”

The phone went dead. Kathy hung up.

The woman was lying. Kathy was certain of it. Brent had said he wasn't sleeping with her. He had said he had
never
slept with her. Hadn't he? Or had he evaded the question? She couldn't remember.

She pressed her head between her hands. Someone was lying. It wasn't Brent. He didn't lie to her.

Or did he? He had never pretended he was staying. He was trying to protect her. If she loved him, she should believe in him.

She loved him. She had always loved him. That didn't mean he loved her, and it didn't mean he was sworn to tell the truth.

“Hey, Mrs. McQueen.” It was Steve, tapping on the door to her bedroom. “Are you a poker player?”

She smiled at him. “Sure.”

She played poker with Jerry and Steve. She made lunch, dug out
Casablanca
and her colorized version of
King Kong
and they argued over the merits of both.

The day passed. She thought about calling Brent's house and his studio, but every time she picked up the receiver, she put it down again.

In the evening Jerry went out for pizza and they agreed on everything but anchovies and cold beer. At one o'clock she thanked them both and said she was going to bed. They both assured her it was one of the nicest assignments they had had.

She went to bed and lay awake for a very long time. Then she closed her eyes and dozed restlessly at last.

He wasn't coming back.

But he did. Sometime in the night, he returned. Though he didn't touch her as he had before. He didn't try to make love to her.

He lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. She opened her eyes and saw him there. She didn't know if she wanted him to touch her, or if she was afraid that he would. She wanted to ask him the truth about Marla, but couldn't quite bring herself to do so.

His eyes closed. She turned her back on him. A few minutes later she felt his arms around her, pulling her close.

He didn't make love to her. He simply held her in the curve of his body, and she could feel the heat and security of his naked body wrapped around her.

She lay awake for a very long time.

Chapter 9

Kathy awoke in the morning to music.

She was alone in bed. Brent was at the piano playing the chords to “Forever My Love.” She got up, showered and dressed, hoping that he would have quit playing the tune by the time she reached the living room.

He had. When she came down the hallway, he was still sitting at the piano, but he did so silently, his hands idle on the keys.

“Hi,” he told her morosely.

“Hi.”

“Coffee is already on.”

She nodded and walked by him into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup and came out. She wanted to talk to him, really talk to him. She wanted to tell him about Marla's call and demand to know the truth.

And of course, she wanted him to tell her that Marla was behaving like a child, trying to destroy things for them.

Destroy what? Could anything be more broken and shattered than their relationship? These few days were just an interlude. No one had ever pretended they were anything else.

No
. They were pretending that these days would pass, and then nothing more would follow. She had to talk to him.

But it didn't seem to be the time. She didn't have his attention. “So you didn't find anything at your place? Or at the studio?”

He shook his head. “Robert seems to think that I must have a paper or something stashed away. Something Harry gave me. And there's nothing.” He hesitated. “I just keep coming back to the song.” He shrugged. “Tomorrow's the benefit. Maybe something will come from that.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. She shrugged. “If you want, I'll play around with the song, too.”

“I thought you hated it.”

“Yes, well, it seems to be all our skins that we're dealing with here, doesn't it? And I never hated the song. I just hate to hear it now.”

It seemed that she had his attention at last. He was watching her, his eyes gold and curious and his smile wry and crooked. “Why is that?”

She started to answer him, but they were startled by the sound of Sam's ferocious barking.

Kathy arched a brow at Brent. “Robert?”

He nodded. “One more day of searching through records and notes and all. Kathy, I've got to figure out what the hell it is that I supposedly know.”

She nodded. He rose and came toward her. He pulled her into his arms.

For a moment, she stiffened. For a moment she could see Marla Harrington with him in that video, and she could hear the woman's voice coming to her urgently over the phone. Maybe she was just hurting Brent and herself. Maybe this was insane.

But he was touching her. And she seemed to melt in his arms. They were hard and secure around her and his lips were achingly tender when they touched hers. He kissed her slowly, lingeringly, then he stepped back and brushed the moisture from her lips with his thumb. “I'll be back.”

“Will you?” she asked him softly.

He frowned. “Of course. Why?”

She shook her head. “No reason. I'll…I'll play with the song.”

“Your two little friends are back, you know.”

Her lips curled into a smile. “Little?” Detectives Jerry Clinton and Steve Barker were both over six feet tall.

Brent shrugged. “Well, they're just kids, you know.”

“Mmm,” she agreed. “Very attractive ones. And actually, I imagine that they're both at least in their mid to late twenties. Mature, responsible—”

“And duly impressed with your charms. Behave,” he warned her. “I heard all about that poker game.”

“Hey, I won.”

“Yes, that's what I heard. They were having problems concentrating.”

She smiled. “Bye. Have a nice day. And you behave, too.”

“I don't have much choice. Poring through drawers with Robert doesn't give me many opportunities to practice my wicked ways.”

“Ah, but is Robert the only one around?”

He frowned. “Kathy, what are you talking about?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. We'll talk later.”

“Yes, we will,” he said flatly. His eyes remained on hers. They could hear Sam going into a frenzy. Brent sighed and turned. “It'll probably be late,” he said.

Something about the tone of his voice bothered her. There was a weariness to it, and a desperation. Maybe something more. She felt a cold hand squeeze her heart. Was it because of the things going on between them? Passion had risen so quickly, and now it seemed that the embers were cooling as fast.

“Brent, there's something you're not telling me,” she said flatly.

He swung around, staring at her, and she knew she was right.

“My God, it's true!” she whispered, backing away from him.

“What's true?” he demanded, following her.

“The phone call—”

“How the hell do you know about the phone call?” he demanded brusquely.

“Because she called me!” Kathy flared. “That's why!”

“She!” He stopped dead in his tracks. “How do you know it's a she?”

“Oh, come on, Brent! Are you trying to tell me now she isn't a woman? Oh, my God! This is getting worse and worse. Just go. Go and—”

“Kathy!” He caught her shoulders, pinning her against the wall. “Kathy, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Marla.”

“Marla is the one killing people and making all these threats?”

“What?” Kathy gasped.

He shook his head. “Wait, wait, we've got to start all over again. Who called you? What call are you talking about?”

“What call are
you
talking about?” she challenged him.

“Kathy, what—”

“Marla. She said you'd been having a really hot and heavy affair and that you were going to marry her.”