Obsession (Southern Comfort) (14 page)

She shivered again.

“Sorry
that took so long,” Justin said as he came through the framed doorway, holding out a large chocolate brown towel, clearly having seen her trembling and misattributing the cause.

He passed her the towel, and when their fingers brushed, he jerked his hand back quickly.

Bemused, Kathleen blinked.  “Is there a problem?”

“No.”  As if to prove his point, Justin turned slightly away, and began rubbing his own towel over his dripping hair. 

Regaining some of her senses, Kathleen tilted her head to watch him.  Big, dark, and hot as hell just a matter of minutes ago, he was now acting like their relationship hadn’t just entered uncharted territory.  Hell, like it hadn’t been blown clear off the map.

H
e’d gone from Mr. Grabby Hands to Dr. Cucumber.

Curious, and feeling just a little put out, Kathleen eased forward.

Justin lowered the towel from in front of his face, saw her standing right in front of him, and practically tripped over a chair in his haste to move backwards.

“Okay.”  Holding up a hand, Kathleen threw her towel on the back of the chair over which he’d stumbled, not particularly caring that she was still soaked to the skin.  This was the second time he’d kissed her and then scurried away afterward like he just remembered she was a leper.  The first time, she’d been more confused and surprised – and intrigued – than anything else.  This time, she was annoyed. 

Probably because she’d never been so aroused and subsequently frustrated in her life.

“You want to tell me why you’re suddenly acting like I have cooties?”

Justin’s mouth opened, then snapped closed.  He laughed, though it lacked any semblance of humor.

When he lifted his head, h
is eyes were burning as they met hers.

“Because if you touch me right now, I’m going to have you beneath me on the close
st available flat surface in about point two seconds.  Seeing as that flat surface is the kitchen table, and I’m not sure where my brother is or when he might come strolling in, I thought it might be prudent to avoid contact.”

This time it
was Kathleen’s mouth that dropped open.  If it were any other situation, any other man, she probably would have laughed. Not only was she trained to physically block such a move if she wished to avoid it, but she worked with men, hung out with men, spent enough time with men that such statements of bravado tended to amuse her rather than turn her on.

She was turned on to her eye teeth now.

Because Justin wasn’t the type to make boasts.  And because she’d seen, quite recently, just how easily he could turn her into a quivering pile of hormonal mush.

“Fair enough,” she said, though her voice shook a little.  As casually as possible, she snagged the towel back off the chair, started soaking up the worst of the dampness from her hair.  “Of course, there are other flat surfaces available.  In less conspicuous locations.”

After staring at her for a long moment, Justin’s head dropped back on his shoulders.  His chest rose and fell in rapid bursts beneath the wet, clinging fabric of his navy sweatshirt.  Even more casually than she’d handled her own towel, he maneuvered his until it covered his groin. 

Obviously, he was sporting another erection.

But the fact that he felt the need to hide it from her didn’t exactly bode well.

“That’s probably not a good idea
right now,” he said finally, still staring at the ceiling, the pain of restraint evident in his voice.

Kathleen’s brows shot up, then snapped together.
“What?  Why not?”

He sighed, then rolled his head around to look at her.  “Because I don’t want to
fuck this up by rushing it.  I don’t want to fuck
us
up.”

Justin wasn’t particularly given to
swearing so baldly, which told her he was on edge.  Coming down a little more from the sexual high she’d been riding, Kathleen got a grip. And realized that Justin was right.  She’d done casual relationships for so long that she’d forgotten what it felt like when there was something more to it.  Or maybe she’d never really known what that felt like. Not that she was into hook-ups or one-nighters.  She had too much sense for that. She was more of a long-term, but no-strings, type.  Even with Anthony…

Ah, hell.  Anthony. 

Kathleen closed her eyes, realizing that she’d barely given him a thought all day.  And certainly not in the past thirty or so minutes.  While it was true that their relationship was very much no-strings and that they hadn’t even seen all that much of each other lately, he deserved a heads-up if she was thinking about moving on. 

Which, given what had just happene
d against the wall of Justin’s garage, she clearly was.  Or maybe already had.  Either way, it was something she needed to take care of.

When she opened her eyes, she discovered that Justin was watching her intently.  No doubt waiting for her reaction to what he’d just said.

Kathleen swallowed, another of those unexpected lumps in her throat. To say that this was unfamiliar ground would be an understatement. And she realized that she didn’t want to fuck this up, either.

“Okay.  So what now?”

Justin’s shoulders eased, as if he’d let out a breath he’d been holding.  “I don’t know.”

Her lips twit
ched.  “I’ve always admired a man with a plan.”

“Hey, cut me a little slack here.”  His lips twitched too.  “My brain is operating on approximately
ten percent of its normal blood flow.”

Looking at the towel he gripped like a shield, Kathleen outright grinned.
  “I didn’t realize they’d started making chastity belts in terry cloth.”

“Smartass.”  His eyes were warm as he smiled back.  “And
speaking of belts, since when are you the type to wear a garter?”

“This old thing
?” She waved a careless hand, but her blood started to do the sizzle thing again.  “Standard court attire.”

“Maybe I’ll have to get myself arreste
d,” he murmured.  “Providing the arresting officer shows up at my arraignment.  In
standard court attire
, of course.”

“Of course.”

Kathleen started to move forward, drawn like a moth to the flickering heat of his gaze, just as the back door opened.

“Oh, hey.”  James stood in the open door, rain pelting the metal roof of the porch at his back, some sort of box clutched in his arms.  His eyes darted back and forth between Kathleen and his brother
, eventually settling on the towel Justin still clutched strategically.

Clearly sensing that this wasn’t quite the conversation he’d expected to walk in on, he stuck his tongue in his cheek.  Then he shut the door behind him.

“You, uh, left this outside,” he told Justin.  “On the ground.  In the rain.”

“Thanks,” Justin said
casually, though he made no move to retrieve the box, for obvious reasons.

“I’ll just sit it over here,” James said equally casually.  “On the counter.”

“Great.”

“I could,” James suggested, leaning
a hip against the counter after he’d set the box down “open it up.  Give it a test whirl.  Something…hot would be nice, given that it’s so cold and wet outside.”

Kathleen had long ago perfected her poker face, it being an essential aspect of her job.  Which was the only reason she was able to keep from laughing at Justin’s brother’s blatant bedevilment.  The imp.

Justin, however, seemed less than amused.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said.
Then, seeming to realize that introductions were in order – at least to his knowledge, anyway – he nodded toward Kathleen.

“Kathleen, my brother James.  James, Kathleen Murphy.”

James waved, clearly not willing to go into the whole
we’ve already met
story right now, given the circumstances.  “Hi,” he said cheekily instead, which drew a frown from his older brother.  No doubt Justin was wondering what had happened to his sibling’s manners.

Then Justin gave a
subtle – at least Kathleen guessed it was meant to be subtle – jerk of his head.

The dimple
with which she’d become familiar over the past hour or so flickered in James’ left cheek.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to open this?”  He patted the box.  “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure.”  Then, just in case his little brother hadn’t fully understood the message.  “Maybe you’d like to take a hot shower instead.”

“A shower.” James nodded, as if considering that a novel idea.  “Good call.”

Pushing off against the counter, he
sauntered toward the doorway to the hall.  “Say,” he paused in front of Justin.  “I’m all out of clean towels.  Mind if I borrow that one?”

This time the look on Justin’s face had Kathleen snorting back a laugh.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.  “I mind.” 

Kathleen dug deep and pulled her poker face back out when his dirty look veered her direction.

“See ya,” James said, chuckling as he disappeared through the doorway.

Kathleen watched him go, a sigh easing past her lips.  James’s untimely –or timely, depending on how you looked at it – interruption reminded her of the reason she’d come back here after the two of them had finished their impromptu
, but enlightening, dinner date.

She looked at the box on the counter, recognizing the significance of the contents
.  Amusement fled as her gaze turned hard.

When Justin looked her way, his brow arched at her expression.  “What?”

Kathleen pulled out the chair he kept stumbling over.  “Sit down.  We need to talk.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

KATHLEEN
flicked her wipers on as she turned from Justin’s street onto Palm Boulevard.  The rain had mostly let up, but puddles were thick on the low-lying streets, every one she hit sending a muddy wave of water to coat her windshield.  The grayish sludge seemed a perfect accompaniment to her less-than-sunny mood.

She was annoyed with Justin.  And not because he’d gotten her all stirred up and then left her high and… well, not dry, certainly. 
But unsatisfied, to say the least.

No, she was annoyed
because he refused to take the potential threat to himself seriously.

Kathleen had spent an hour with Justin’s brother over
shrimp and beer.  And had gotten the scoop on just how off the rails the situation had become.

But when she’d advised Justin to file a report,
to lay the groundwork should legal steps need to be taken, he’d basically scoffed and told her he could handle it.  Because the possession of a penis apparently made one immune to the machinations of crazy women.  Just ask John Bobbitt. 

But what did Kathleen know?  She was just a
homicide detective, after all.

Sure, she hadn’t been too happy when
Justin had gone all doctor on her over her elbow, but she’d worn the sling, hadn’t she? She’d done the damn exercises and taken his little pills.  And, she added to her mental tally of The Ways in Which Justin Wasn’t as Reasonable as Kathleen, she was a big enough person to admit that he’d been right.

The wipers swished, and Kathleen
blinked at the sudden glare of headlights in her rearview mirror, following her a little more closely than was strictly safe.  She scowled.  This wasn’t her jurisdiction, but given her present mood that driver was lucky she didn’t tend to get het up over minor traffic violations, which always struck Kathleen more as… revenue generation rather than an actual effective method of discouraging drivers from being assholes.  In her experience, assholes tended to behave as expected no matter how many fines you slapped them with.

Just to be perverse
, she slowed down.  The car behind her – some kind of smallish SUV, from what she could make out – dropped back to a more acceptable distance.

That irritant tackled, Kathleen shifted her focus back to the six foot three inch irritant which had sent her mood south in the first place.

Not that she was surprised.  She understood men well enough to know that running to the cops because an ex-girlfriend was a level ten clinger was the macho equivalent of wearing a “Kick me, I’m a pussy” T-shirt while rocking in the corner and sucking your thumb.  Especially for a man like Justin, who for all his humble, laid back amiability was at his core an alpha male.  You couldn’t be a trauma surgeon, with the entailed near constant life and death decisions, and lack confidence in your own capabilities.

But it wasn’t Justin’s capabilities she was concerned with.  Kathleen was more worried about what this stalker
– because recent events certainly seemed to justify that moniker – was capable of.

It was probably a safe bet to suspect Mandy.  The criteria were all there.  Jilted ex, access to Justin’s keys, knowledge of his house, his vehicle,
his likes, his basic schedule… it fit.  There was a reason investigations of this sort so often focused on someone close to the victim – not that Justin would appreciate that term.  But in cases of simple obsession, the ex-lover was generally the culprit.