Hardball (24 page)

“Neither were the Pittsburgh cops. My friend told me the wife’s mother—the woman you talked to—was adamant that her daughter wasn’t the kind of person who would kill herself. The sister said the same thing. They both claimed Ashley was so devoted to her son that she’d never have left him, and sure as hell not in her husband’s hands.”

Holly had to agree with that assessment. She didn’t think even a suicidal woman would leave her child in the care of a cold, violent man like Lance Arnold. “So, the detective up there thinks Arnold might have killed his wife?”

“He sure does. He said they leaned hard on Arnold, given his record, but he had an alibi for the night in question. One they couldn’t manage to shake. And in the absence of any physical evidence to link Arnold to his wife’s death, they couldn’t take the case to the grand jury.”

Shit.
Hearing the horrifying story spelled out so clearly—from a police detective, no less—filled her with dread.

But it also filled her with anger, especially for poor little Tyler. If ever a child had been dealt a rotten hand…“Tyler must have been just a toddler when all that happened,” she said.

“He was barely two at the time his mother died. Arnold packed him up later that year and moved to Chester.”

“So, you said you met with Arnold yesterday?” she prompted. If Rich didn’t tell her the outcome of that meeting soon she’d jump out of her skin.

Even through the closed bedroom door, she heard the unmistakable sound of feet hitting the floor. With a tentative turn of the handle, she eased the door open and peeked in. Nate was sitting on the edge of the bed, already into some kind of stretching exercise. When he saw her on the phone, he gave her a quizzical smile, then slid back onto the bed, propping himself up on his pillows. Holly returned his smile with a weak one of her own, but stayed outside the room.

“Uh huh,” Rich said. “We confronted him with what you’ve told me, but he denied that he was threatening you.”

No surprise there
. “Can you tell me exactly what he said, please?” Holly glanced at Nate. He patted the bed, indicating she should sit down. She waved him off with a little hand signal. She was far too wound up to sit. She stepped back into the bedroom and began to pace back and forth across the huge room. Nate’s eyes tracked her from one side to the other, concern darkening his gaze.

“He said you must have completely misunderstood him. He acted apologetic as all hell, and said he felt really bad that you’d taken him the wrong way. The jerk sounded halfway sincere, but cons like him know how to put on a good act. They’ve been around the horn with cops multiple times, and they all figure they know how to play us.”

“That’s what I expected to happen,” Holly said. She slapped her hand against the wall in frustration, then shot an apologetic grimace at Nate. He mouthed
it’s going to be okay
. He looked so sympathetic she wanted to cry.

“He’s obviously not going to admit to harassing you, Doc,” said Rich. “But I want you to know we gave it to him straight and hard. Told him we didn’t believe a word he said, and that if he kept going after you, we’d arrest him. We made it clear we’ve been cutting him a bit of slack, given the rough situation with his boy, but this was the end of it. No more phone calls, no more following you around, no more threats, period.”

But would Arnold listen?
“Thank you. I really appreciate that. But do you really think he’ll stop now? What was your sense?” She gripped the phone tightly against her ear, almost desperate to hear the answer she wanted.

Rich kind of snorted. “I’ve learned not to make guesses when it comes to trash like Lance Arnold. All I can say is we told him we’ll be watching him, and if there’s another complaint from you we’ll have him in cuffs before he knows what hit him. I guarantee you that he got
that
message loud and clear.”

“Great,” Holly breathed, a little relieved. “I can’t tell you how stressful this has been, Detective. But thank you so much for following up on my complaint. I really appreciate it.”

“Dr. Bell, if the guy calls again or if you see him anywhere near you, I want you to call me right away. Any time, okay?”

He sounded totally sincere. “Thank you again,” she said. “You can be sure I will.”

“Try not to worry about it too much. I know how upsetting it all is, but if it’s any comfort, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, these threats turn out to be nothing but smoke and hot air.”

Holly wasn’t ready to take that off-the-cuff statistic to the bank. Not when she knew what Arnold was capable of doing to a woman. “I’ll try. Goodbye, Detective Rich.”

She hung up and shifted her gaze to Nate. The sheet had pooled around his waist, highlighting the line where his flat, tanned stomach met the white cotton of the sheet. His eyes overflowed with concern as he stretched out his hand to her.

When she sat down on the edge of the bed, he put his arm around her and drew her into the warmth of his body. As Nate held her, Holly filled him in on everything Rich had said, and she finally told him about the threatening message Arnold had left on her answering machine. He wasn’t happy that she’d withheld that bit of information until now, but he let it slide, listening patiently.

By the time she got to the end of the story, tears had welled up in her eyes and she’d started to tremble. Nate folded her deeper into his arms, stroking her all over. As he kissed her neck and whispered soothing words in her ear, she bit down on her lip, struggling to hold back a flood of tears.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “It’s okay to cry. I’m not a guy who takes off at the first sight of female tears.”

She gave a choked laugh that sounded more like a sob, and let him pull her back into bed. Curling into a ball, Holly pressed her face into Nate’s chest and slid her arms underneath him, gripping him hard as she tried to force herself to calm down. Her hair and her tears mingled against the warmth of his chest.

Soon, his rhythmic breathing and soothing murmurs settled her, and she found herself drifting off, safe in her man’s protective arms.

* * *

Nate made her spend the entire afternoon hacking away at a stupid white ball.

They hadn’t talked much more about her conversation with Detective Rich. There wasn’t a lot to say, and she was sick of talking about Lance Arnold anyway. Sick of thinking about him. She’d cried most of the tension out of her system—at least she hoped so—and now wanted to forget the man existed for the next couple of days. That was why she’d made the escape to Florida, wasn’t it?

Nate, probably thinking it would be fun—or at least distracting—had been adamant that she take the opportunity to get up close and personal with a set of golf clubs. She had no desire to play a game she thought was kind of stupid, but she wanted to please him so she’d gone along with it.

As they made their way around the course, with him enthusiastically encouraging her pathetic attempts to the hit the ball solidly or make a putt, she found herself reading messages into his behavior. He obviously wanted her to take up the game, and kept referring to future rounds they’d play at this course or that course. It had to mean he envisioned they’d be playing together well into the future. When she’d told him that she’d be a brutally slow learner and that he’d have to be extra patient with her, he’d grinned and said he was a very patient man.

Holly had really liked the sound of that.

By the end of eighteen, grueling holes, though, she was tired, hot, and grumpy, and felt like she’d made an utter fool of herself. But Nate simply hugged her and told her she was a real trouper.

She liked that a lot, too.

When they got back to the condo, they showered together and Nate instantly made her forget about her weary limbs. With startling ease, he brought her to a mind-numbing climax twice—first in the shower and then on top of the bed. She was glad to see all her tension and anxiety certainly hadn’t made her lose her libido. How could it, when Nate Carter had his hands on her?

She liked that the best.

Nate had made reservations for dinner at the Ritz-Carlton on Amelia Island, just an hour north of his place. Rather than driving up the faster but non-scenic interstate, they’d opted for A1A and the little ferry that crossed to the north side of the St. John’s River.

Now, as the boat moved away from the dock, Holly gave Nate a quick apology and got out of the car, dodging through the row of parked autos to look over the starboard railing. The sandy shores of a small state park stretched out in front of her. She smiled as memories of the park’s pristine beaches and quiet tidal lagoon came back to her. Seagulls and pelicans wheeled through the tangy sea air as the western sky over the wetlands put on a spectacular sunset show of magenta and gold. She inhaled a deep breath of sea air, the clean scent a sharp reminder of how much she missed the ocean.

Once the ferry docked, only an easy fifteen-minute drive through the marshlands to Amelia Island remained, and Nate made short work of the distance. As he pulled the BMW under the Ritz-Carlton’s portico, a uniformed valet rushed forward to hand him a ticket and a bellman helped Holly out, immediately asking if they were checking in. Regretfully, she said no, a real shame now that she thought about it. A romantic night at a beautiful seaside resort sounded like it would have been something close to heaven.

The maitre d’ at the Salt Grill, where they had their reservation, immediately recognized Nate and greeted them both with effusive warmth. He led them to a candle-lit table in the corner looking out toward the ocean, just a long stone’s throw away across the dunes. It was low tide, and the flat beach seemed to stretch out forever, indistinct with the sea as the two merged in a silvery-gray line.

The dinner turned out to be superb, as she’d expected, and they had a wonderful time talking about everything under the sun. She and Nate thought alike about a surprising number of things. And they had a lot of time to explore different subjects because it took them forever to eat their way through nine tasting courses. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered Holly one bit, but they had a long, twisty drive back to Ponte Vedra and both of them had consumed a little more alcohol than they should have. When Nate suggested an after-dinner drink, Holly waved her finger at him.

“Not a chance, you crazy man. In fact, I think we should get another cup of coffee and then head out. We can have a nightcap when we get home, if you want. And I’m going to drive, since the combination of your injured shoulder and your blood alcohol level doesn’t exactly inspire a passenger’s confidence.”

Nate, who by now obviously felt no pain, gave her a wolfish grin. “I’ve been thinking about that for a while, sweet stuff, and I’ve got a better idea,” he said, his Brooklyn accent becoming more pronounced by the minute. “Why don’t we just stay right here for the night?” Then he chuckled. “In a room, I mean.”

Holly arched her eyebrows in surprise. “I’d love to, of course, but we didn’t bring any extra clothes. Or anything at all.”

“Don’t worry about clothes. You saw the shops we passed as we came down the hall. Everything we might need we can buy right here in the hotel in the morning. The Ritz will give us toothpaste and brushes. We’ll be all set. No problem at all.”

She thought about it, but it felt like taking advantage of him. Still, it would be safer than driving home, and the idea of a sexy night at the beautiful resort certainly had its appeal. “But it sounds a little extravagant, Nate. If we do it, you should let me pay part of the bill.”

“Thanks, but forget that thought. Holly, you deserve a treat and I intend to give you one,” he said seriously.

“But you already have,” she protested.

“Sorry, babe. You’re just going to have to get used to being spoiled.” The look in his eyes dared her to challenge him, but the implication of his words thrilled her to her core.

“Well, I suppose when you put it like that,” she said. “Staying here is a wonderful idea. Thank you, Nate.” She gave him a grateful smile.

He winked at her. “Trust me when I say I’ll make sure you pay in several other ways.”

I certainly hope so.
She gave him the sexiest smile she could muster. “Trust
me
when I say I’ll hold you to that.”

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said huskily, rising from his chair. “I’ll check us in at the desk. I don’t think there’ll be a problem getting a room.”

Holly followed him with an avid gaze as he left the restaurant. She’d never seen a man look better in a suit—all elegance, style, and power in the perfectly tailored, jet black Armani. But Nate was simply sex-on-a-stick no matter what he was wearing—a baseball uniform, jeans and a tee shirt, or a designer suit.

Every woman in the place obviously agreed with her, since they followed him with eyes that left little doubt as to what they were thinking. It still seemed incomprehensible to Holly that Nate desired her so much.

Incomprehensible, but indescribably thrilling.

* * *

It took a little longer to arrange for the room than Nate expected. He’d stayed at the Ritz several times before, but he didn’t know the clerk at the front desk. Luckily, she immediately recognized him, and chatted him up in her soft southern accent as if she were his biggest fan.

Until Holly Bell walked into his life, he wouldn’t have hesitated to respond when the sweet-faced clerk in her smart, tailored uniform started to flirt with him. But not tonight. Tonight the loveliest, sexiest woman a man could ever want to meet waited for him back in the restaurant.

And a very vulnerable woman, too, which had surprised the hell out of him. When Holly had clung to him this morning, trying so hard not to cry after the shitty phone call with Detective Rich, Nate had experienced an odd rush of emotions. Anger, of course, and then deep concern. He’d wanted to pound that prick Arnold into dust for scaring her. But mostly he’d wanted to hold her close, soothing away her fears. Then he’d wanted to make love to her, claiming and protecting her in the most basic way he could. He’d never felt like that toward any woman, but he was quickly learning that Holly Bell was like no one he’d ever met.