Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart #1) (13 page)

“Millie was right,” she said, almost absently. Then she turned back to meet his gaze. “You’re stubborn, hard-nosed, and narrow-minded.”

They rode in silence back to Wyattville.

There was no need for words. Everything had been said back at the restaurant. They were opposites. Like the two poles of a magnet. Neither understood how the other saw things.

Yet despite everything that had passed between them, tranquility stole into Maureen’s heart. The top of the Jeep was open, and an array of stars covered the night sky. The cool evening breeze kissed her face, while soft strains of music wafted through the air. Alan had picked a classical station. She laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. The music fitted her mood.

It seemed odd, Alan choosing Mozart.

A man so firmly embedded in his concepts of right and wrong wasn’t the type to listen to this kind of music. He should listen to something hard and jarring, she decided, with no rhythm. Smiling, she laughed silently to herself. Who was she to judge or typecast Alan Parks? Or even understand him? He was a man full of contradictions. So she tried to focus on all the reasons why she should dislike him. Instead, her mind drifted, and images of him throughout the day flitted before her closed eyes.

She recalled the way he’d looked this morning, when she’d first opened the door. He’d stood on the porch with his hands stuck in the pockets of his sinfully tight jeans, while his gaze raked her from head to toe. Even now, remembering that look, she felt an uncomfortable warmth steal over her.

He’d reminded her of the boys her father used to warn her about. The ones none of the good girls dared speak to, while they all secretly wondered what it would be like. And like the girl she’d been, this morning she’d wished Alan had worn his sheriff’s uniform, even as she drank in the sight of him in skintight denim.

Later, at the Simmons place, he’d put on his badge before going in to see Bud. It hadn’t helped. Not with Bud. Not with her reaction to Alan. The scene played out in her mind, and she remembered details she hadn’t noticed at the time. There was the smell of dust and the utter stillness of the yard. But mainly there was Alan, standing with his back to her, the tension in his shoulders pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his broad back. His masculinity had screamed at her, making her forget all the reasons why she should avoid him.

Then, when he’d picked her up in Seattle, his copper eyes had offered comfort. She’d wanted nothing more than to crawl into his lap and cry. For a moment, she’d been tempted to unburden herself to him, to let someone else carry her problems for a while. She had needed it desperately, and he’d been willing. The memory warmed her, making her realize that this was the most threatening side of this very dangerous man.

When they pulled up in front of Rita’s house, Maureen didn’t want to move. Odd that she should feel this way—after all that had happened today. Alan must have felt the same, because he, too, sat silently, without making a move to get out of the Jeep.

After a few moments, Maureen opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. He sat sideways in the seat, watching her.

“Thanks,” she said softly, so as not to disturb the silence.

“Thanks?”

“For driving me to Seattle. For dinner.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. Closing her eyes again, she savored his touch. She knew she should turn away, but she couldn’t. Something stronger than common sense kept her still, treasuring the moment.

She sensed his shift toward her. Opening her eyes, she started to speak. He stopped her words by bringing his fingers to her lips. Trembling, she inched backward and met the hard metal of the door at her back.

“Why are you fighting this?” he asked, so softly that she wasn’t sure he’d actually spoken the words aloud.

“Fighting this?”

“Yes.” His hand left her mouth, sliding across her cheek and into her hair. He paused there for a moment, his fingers toying with the strands around her ear. “Why are you running from me?”

“I’m not.”

“But you are.” He came closer, his lips within a whisper of her face. He dropped a feather-light kiss on her cheek. “And you want this as much as I do.”

“No.”

He kissed her again, gentler still, on her temple. “Then why are you trembling?”

“I’m not.”

He pulled away, just enough to look deeply into her eyes. She saw the amusement there, the acknowledgment of her lie.

“It could be good between us,” he whispered.

“No.” But she couldn’t put force into her voice or conviction into the word. His closeness overwhelmed her, draining her strength.

“Yes.” He found her mouth. Soft, like a summer breeze, he teased her with just the lightest brushing of his mouth against hers.

“Please, Alan.” It took all her willpower to get the two words out and all her strength to say the last word. “Don’t.”

He stopped, a mere breath from her lips.

She edged backward, just enough to put a little distance between them. “It won’t work.” Once again, there was no certainty in her voice, no potency.

His lips touched hers again, briefly.

She moaned. She wanted this.
Damn him!

Abruptly, he released her. With catlike grace, he moved away from her, leaving a wall of cold darkness between them. She sat for a moment, stunned, unable to make order of the chaos in her mind. He sat staring out the front window, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

She fought the urge to touch him, to beg him to pull her back into his arms. At the same time, she wanted to run, to get out of the Jeep and flee for her life.

There was no telling which choice would have won. Before she could act, Alan climbed out of the Jeep and came around and opened her door. She thought maybe he was angry, but she couldn’t be sure. There was no reading the expression on his face.

They walked toward the house. When Maureen reached for the doorknob, he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. This time, without asking, he pulled her into his arms until she felt the entire length of his body against hers. And he kissed her. Not the feather-light kiss of a moment ago. But a deep, yearning, searching kiss, which stole the breath from her lungs.

Letting go of her mouth as quickly as he’d taken it, he said, “Tell me this isn’t right.” His voice was a low growl, daring her to lie again. But before she could speak, he stepped away from her. Opening the front door, he entered the house, leaving her alone on the porch.

The instant Maureen followed Alan into the house, Katie descended upon her mother. Filled with the day’s activities, Katie was eager to share her adventures. Maureen lifted the little girl into her arms, but her thoughts and gaze strayed to Alan. He stood watching the two of them, his expression devoid of any evidence of what had just passed between them.

Maureen stumbled through the next hour. Later, she would recall most of what was said, but as it was happening, she could think only of Alan. Or, more specifically, she could think of nothing but the taste of his lips and the feel of his body pressed close to hers.

Katie and Rita talked of nothing but the Apple Blossom Festival. Katie bubbled over about the rides and ponies. Rita told them about the craft booths and who was showing what this year. They made plans for the following weekend, Alan promising Katie he would personally take her on the pony rides. And when he was gone, and Katie was tucked into bed, Maureen felt herself on the edge of a gaping pit.

She lay in bed knowing that Alan would be her undoing. And there was nothing she could do about it. Eventually, he would prevail. She would lose this battle she fought with herself. She would give in to her desire, and Alan would win. And then, she and Katie would be at his mercy.

Sam Cooper glanced at his watch, thinking it was just about time to call Anderson.

It had been a hell of a few weeks, but he finally had something to report.

At first, the woman and kid had left a trail easy enough for even the cops to follow—if they’d bothered. Cooper and his men had traced them to a small town just inside the Georgia state line. A waitress in the cafe attached to the bus station recognized their pictures right away. Or more specifically, she remembered the kid. Evidently, the child had been cranky, and the waitress had had a rough night. She’d been in no mood for a toddler’s tantrums.

Unfortunately, the waitress didn’t know where they’d gone from there, nor had she seen them again. The only thing she knew for certain was that they hadn’t got back on the bus with the other passengers. The kid had still been fussing when the bus pulled away.

Cooper had left the diner feeling optimistic. The town was small, and if Maura and her daughter were still here, someone else was bound to have noticed them. Finding her was going to be easier than he thought.

Then nothing.

For weeks, his men combed the area, checking all the routes out of town. They showed pictures at every bus station for a hundred miles. Then they checked all the motels and boarding houses, both locally and in the surrounding towns.

Nothing.

No one remembered seeing them, or if anyone did recognize the photos, they weren’t talking. It crossed Cooper’s mind that she might have gone to Atlanta. Given the right circumstances and enough cash, that’s what he would have done. From there, a person could hop a flight that would take them anywhere in the world. And the authorities probably wouldn’t check the passenger lists on all flights out of Atlanta for a woman missing from Miami.

It would have been a smart move.

But everything he’d been able to find out about Maura Anderson told him she was broke. So he doubted whether there was going to be any quick plane rides out of the country for her and her daughter. And he didn’t think Atlanta itself was her destination. It was too close to home.

Not for the first time, he wondered why she hadn’t gone to her father. From what he knew of her situation, it was a case Jacob Anderson would have devoured. And if not, well, there was always the money. Then Cooper remembered the cold gray of Anderson’s eyes
.

Yeah,
he thought,
maybe I do understand why she didn’t go to Jacob Anderson.

Still, he had a job to do. And he wasn’t considered the best for nothing. Finally, he’d followed a hunch and gotten lucky.

Cooper drained the last of his coffee, climbed to his feet, and pulled out his wallet. First, he tossed a couple of bills on the cheap Formica table, and then paused, considering. Finally, he pulled out a third and folded it in quarters. Walking over to the counter, he smiled at the woman who’d just reopened his case.

“Here you go, May.” He tucked the folded hundred-dollar bill into the top pocket of her uniform, letting his fingers linger a few seconds too long. “Thanks.”

May beamed her appreciation. “You find that woman, dahlin’, and you tell her May sent you.”

With an effort, Cooper returned her smile. “I’ll do that.” He turned to leave, but May’s voice stopped him as he got to the door.

“You get back this way,” she called. “You look me up, you hear?”