Shades of Desire (6 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

“D
UMB
ASS
,” Jase murmured as he strode toward SIG’s break room. He wasn’t sure if he was berating Mac or himself. Mac’s lustful reaction to Natalie Jones had been obvious, but his comment about Natalie’s blindness affecting Jase’s reasoning had been spot-on. The woman had guts, which he respected, but he’d let her disability make him feel pity more than anything else, when he knew perfectly well it didn’t rule out the possibility that she was a murderer or might have been in cahoots with one.

His cell phone buzzed, and he checked the screen. Marcia, the movie actress he had plans to meet for dinner, had just texted him:
On my way to restaurant!! Can’t wait!!!

Wincing at the number of exclamation points she’d used, Jase shoved the phone back in his pocket. Hands on hips, he stared at the worn linoleum floor.

Marcia was a horrible actress but a nice woman. As enthusiastic as she was over text messages, she was equally enthusiastic about life, and that included sex. She was fun—or at least she’d been fun for a while. Right now, she seemed like a whole lot of effort. Even the thought of her unique brand of sexual gymnastics wasn’t doing it for him. And that was just damn depressing.

When he reached for the coffeepot, he cursed at the black sludge pooled at the bottom. Exactly what he’d found in the detective pen. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his stomach.
Be grateful. Any more of that crap and you’ll develop that ulcer the doc warned you about.
Digging out his antacids, he popped two in his mouth, then stalked to the vending machines. He didn’t want to take the time to brew another cup. He needed caffeine
now
, even if it came in the form of chocolate.

His hand retrieved thirty-five measly cents from his pocket. “Shit.” He glanced around. Frowned when he caught a glimpse of curly red hair slipping out of a tight bun.

Carrie Ward.

He groaned when the blood rushed straight to his dick.

Instinctively, he glanced down.
Jesus,
he wanted to yell at it.
Don’t you recognize a man-eater when you see one?

“See something interesting, Tyler?”

He closed his eyes at the amused tone in Ward’s voice. Caught checking out the goods. Nice.

He glanced up, ready with a quick retort, only to find that her eyes were still on his lower half. Her gaze jumped to his. To his amazement, she actually blushed. Well. Wasn’t that interesting? He’d always thought she had a thing for Mac. Most of the time, she acted as if Jase was an annoying little brother. Maybe there was more to her antagonism than he’d realized.

She narrowed her eyes. “What? You think I’m interested in what you have to offer? Think again.”

“Now why would I think that, darlin’?”

Ward looked as if she wanted to say more, but she turned away. She hadn’t gone more than five feet before Jase called out to her, using her given name for the very first time.

“Hey, Carrie.”

She halted, shoulders tense, her muscles fairly vibrating through her simple Dockers and tailored button-up shirt. Although her clothes always hugged her figure, she never showed skin or cleavage, and rarely wore makeup to work. If she ever really pulled out all the stops, he suspected he’d have to drag his tongue off the floor.

“Hey, Jase,” she mocked, turning around.

He advanced on her slowly, liking the way her eyes widened. Liking the color that climbed up her neck until it tinged her cheeks a gorgeous pale pink. Unlike Natalie Jones, Carrie Ward was a tough-ass cop who could, with expert precision, literally cut the balls off any man who got too close.

He leaned down until his breath fluttered the hair next to her ear. “Can I borrow some change? I’ve got a date with an actress who likes to put me through my paces. I need my energy.”

He didn’t know why he said it and half regretted he had when she stiffened and pulled away. She smiled thinly, reached into her Dockers, and held out some change. He took three quarters. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. And don’t worry.” This time it was her breath against his ear as she raised on tiptoe. “Maybe she won’t notice.”

“Notice what?” He closed his eyes when she pressed her hand against his chest.

“Notice she got the short—” she paused for effect “—end of the deal.”

He grabbed her elbow when she tried to step back. “Anytime you want to see how I measure up, just let me know.”

“If you don’t let go of my arm, you’re going to measure even smaller than normal.” She smiled nastily and deliberately looked at the front of his pants, this time with mal intent in her expression. But her eyes widened again at what she saw there.

Slowly, he released her arm. “Maybe you should get your eyesight checked.”

She licked her lips and shook her head. “You know, maybe you should transfer out of SIG now rather than in a few months. Given your history, you like to jump ship fairly frequently, right?”

“And you’ll do what? Pretend like you don’t care?”

Hands on hips, her face tightened. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t know exactly, but he ran with it. “It means me and the other guys aren’t blind to how you look at Mac. You’ve convinced yourself you want him, but he’s not the one who’s got you scared now.”

She practically thrust her face in his. “I’m not scared. I’m never scared. And you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He doesn’t see you that way, Carrie. He never will. Try focusing on what’s available.”

As her mouth hung open in surprise, Jase loaded the coins into the vending machine. He wasn’t sure what he was saying to her—that
he
was available? All he knew was he didn’t want to see her wasting her time over a man who clearly had the hots for the witness he’d just interviewed. Not when Jase was still quivering from the effects of feeling her breath in his ear. When he glanced back, Carrie was walking away.

Telling himself to forget about her and enjoy his date with Marcia, Jase turned back to the vending machine—then watched with disbelief as the chocolate bar caught on the silver ring halfway through release.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE
DAY
AFTER
Agent McKenzie had busted down her door, Natalie did something she’d never done before—with her walking cane in hand, she went for a walk outside, by herself, heading toward a nearby Starbucks. The walk had nothing to do with wanting to prove anything, she told herself, but rather with satisfying a craving.

She loved coffee. Adored coffee. Nowadays she preferred the flavored kind, enjoying a variety of different brews. She could make her own with her single cup machine, but she hadn’t found one that hit the spot like a Starbucks Caramel Macchiato. It would be a nice outing to take her mind off what had happened over the past two days. An uncomplicated treat.

Unfortunately, this treat was turning out to be as pleasurable as going out to dinner with Joanna had been.

As she stood outside the coffee shop, she’d never felt as conspicuous or as insignificant.

A steady stream of customers entered and exited the shop’s front door—the same door she’d been unable to pass through when the sounds and energy from inside had blasted her. Instead, arms crossed over her chest, head bowed, she leaned against the building and tried to disappear, tensing when footsteps approached from either direction. Each time, she waited for the inevitable pause in conversation or break in stride that told her someone had seen her cane. Waited for a child to ask, “Mommy, why’s that lady holding that stick?” only to be quickly hushed away. Waited to be ignored altogether.

Within five minutes, all three had occurred, some more than once, and every mental hatch mark brought a sliver of pain. Interestingly enough, the most common reaction, and the one that brought the most pain, was the silence.

Apparently, she’d rather be noticed as an oddity or annoyance than outright disregarded. The thought almost made her smile. Pride had always been, and it seemed would always be, her downfall.

Placing her fingertips on her watch, which in addition to the voice function had raised symbols denoting the time, she confirmed Melissa would be at her house soon. Sure, she could ask Melissa to go on her regular coffee run, but that would be weak. Needy.

I’m through coddling needy women.

Even though Agent McKenzie’s words had been less than complimentary, Natalie’s abdomen tightened as she recalled his darkly intense voice. Her hands shook slightly even as her body warmed, bombarded by mixed instincts for flight, fight and fucking.

She deliberately thought the f-word to describe what she wanted from the man. From
any
man. That’s all it was and all it would be. Physical relief for a libido that hadn’t had any in a good long time. It was the reason she’d reacted so strongly to Agent McKenzie. The only reason she continued to react to his memory.

Right now, she had bigger problems. Like trying to decide whether to go inside and order her coffee, or simply head home with her tail between her legs. In the end, her pride would allow only one answer.

You’ve come this far, Natalie. Don’t chicken out now.

Bracing herself, she straightened and stepped toward the front door, then through it. She tried to block out the stimuli that suddenly overloaded her senses, but it was impossible. They rained down on her with the strength of a tsunami. The noise. The press of bodies bumping into her, then the awkward, heavy silence as those same people stepped away. The prickling of her skin as they stared at her. The fear that she was going to fall or crash into a wall. Or worse, that someone would recognize her from the press about her photos. Connect the blind woman with the strong, vibrant person she used to be.

The process of ordering and waiting for her drink was tortuous, and by the time she held the warm cup of coffee, she was struggling for breath. The walk home was only slightly better, and by the time she’d calmed down, she’d lost her desire for the caffeinated beverage altogether. She left it on her kitchen counter and practiced some meditative and breathing exercises until she was sufficiently calm. In control.

It was only minutes later that Melissa arrived. And although she initially answered the door with more dread than excitement, that eventually passed, too. She began to enjoy her friend’s company. And she was especially proud of her composed demeanor while she told Melissa what had happened the day before.

“So they just left?”

Natalie shrugged, trying to keep her expression cool even as she “pictured” the “they” to whom Melissa referred. Tall. Broad. Tough. “I’d already told them everything I knew. There wasn’t much more they could get from me, at least not without a warrant.”

“How do you know so much about the law?”

“I did a stint as a crime beat reporter right after college.”

Her friend laughed. “What haven’t you done?”

The air crackled with awkward silence as they both thought of all the things she’d never do again.

“I haven’t replaced a door,” Natalie volunteered. “At least they sent someone over to do that.” After they had left, Natalie had sat stunned for approximately twenty minutes, running over everything that had happened. She hadn’t even thought about the door or the fact that someone—anyone—could walk right into her home, until a vehicle had pulled up and someone called out that “Mac” had sent him to repair it. She’d murmured, “Fine,” walked to her bedroom and locked herself in until the man called out that he was done. She hadn’t come out until she’d heard the truck driving away.

Melissa cleared her throat. “So it took him that long to figure out you were blind? Some detective.”

“Make that Detective Special Agent. He probably knew the whole time and was baiting me, seeing if I’d crack and give something up about this Lindsay Monroe.” Or maybe he’d been just as thrown by the attraction she’d felt. Before he’d learned of her affliction, of course.

“The poor girl,” Melissa breathed. “Murdered and dumped by some psychopath.” At Natalie’s automatic wince, Melissa said, “Shit. Sorry. How are you feeling?”

“A little sore, but okay, thanks.” Carefully, she palmed her favorite camera. “Are you sure you don’t mind me taking a few shots of you, Melissa? You’ve already set up the background and light for me. I know you have better things to do… .”

Her friend laughed. “Who else are you going to photograph? I can’t exactly see Coach Bonnie standing still long enough to pose for you, so you might as well get a few shots while I’m here.”

At the image of short, stout, “all about business” Bonnie saying “cheese” for the camera, Natalie giggled, even if doing so felt rusty. Her adaptive coach was wonderful at teaching her ways to deal with her blindness, but she was militant about everything having its time and place. Although she tried to understand Natalie’s passion for photography, Bonnie didn’t quite get it. Natalie shrugged. It didn’t matter. Bonnie was patient. Kind. Realistic and encouraging. Heck, she even supported Natalie’s need to take risks every once in a while.
When
she was ready. Bonnie was exactly what Natalie needed in an adaptive coach.

“You sounded so much like yourself just then, Natalie. It’s good to hear you laugh.”

I laugh,
Natalie almost protested. But then she tried to remember the last time she had and couldn’t. So she simply smiled and said, “It felt good to laugh. You ready?”

“Ready.”

Taking a deep breath, Natalie held her camera up to her eye. This morning, she’d called Melissa and asked whether she’d pose for her. To her surprise, even the fiasco at the coffee shop earlier hadn’t squelched her desire to take pictures. In fact, in some ways her trip to Starbucks just made her more determined to experiment with the camera she hadn’t touched in over two months.

In the back of her mind, she knew it was Agent McKenzie’s unexpected visit and his hurtful words that had her suddenly wanting to push herself. She’d heard him and his partner talking on her porch after they’d left. Heard him refer to her as a
needy
woman he didn’t want to coddle. Humiliation had almost made her knees buckle. There she’d been, lusting after him while he’d obviously been seeing her as a helpless, pathetic pain in the ass.

Despite yesterday’s hurt, however, something was different now. Once again, some part of her felt as if it had been awakened from a deep slumber and was trying to stretch its wings. What would happen if she gave it the freedom to do so? Would she take flight or crash and burn?

With the bright lights Melissa had set up, she could just make out Melissa’s shape as she lowered herself into a small chair. Hesitantly, she took one shot. Then another. Each time she did, it got easier.

No, she couldn’t see details or colors, not even what color Melissa had decided to dye her hair this week. The last time Natalie had “seen” her friend, she’d had magenta streaks in her blond hair that had perfectly matched her favorite lipstick. But Melissa’s fuzzy shadow, combined with the clear mental image Natalie had in her head, gave her the instant illusion of vision. Of competence. Of artistry.

For once, she didn’t see what was missing, only what was in front of her.

She focused on the framing of her shots and the lines Melissa’s body made against the white screen behind her. Before she knew it, she was instructing Melissa to shift her body in order to maximize the results.

“Raise your hips and slide forward a bit more. Good. Now, turn a little to the left and lean toward me, but don’t put very much weight on your elbow. No, that’s too much. Ease up a little. Good, that’s good.”

Natalie snapped one shot after another, losing herself in the motions that had always felt so natural to her. Soon, she even fell into the easy dialogue she’d always shared with her clients.

“So, how are things going with Mark?” Natalie asked despite already knowing the answer. It rarely changed.

Sure enough, her friend sighed. “Same as always.”

She didn’t expand and Natalie dropped the subject. “The same” meant the man was still jobless and depressed. Do not give her advice, she told herself. She doesn’t want to hear it.

“How about your job with the new photographer? How’s that going?”

“He’s cool. Not nearly as talented as you.”

Natalie laughed. Again. The sound was so deep, it actually startled her. “You’re just saying that because you’re afraid I’ll post these pictures later today. I guarantee it won’t be my best work.”

Melissa laughed, too, and leaned back, her shoulders loosening and her head tilting to the side. “His best work can’t match your worst, Nat.”

“Hmm.”
That’s it,
Natalie thought with excitement.
That’s the look I want.
She took several more pictures.

“Like this?” Melissa asked, sensing Natalie’s mood. Proving once again why they’d always made a great team.

“That’s it. No, wait.” Knowing there was nothing standing between her and Melissa, Natalie walked forward and reached out, her hand hovering near Melissa’s waist. “May I?” she asked

“Of—of course.”

Natalie placed a gentle hand on Melissa’s lower back, smiling encouragingly. “Arch your back. See how it brings the shoulders up? Good. Stay like that. Just like that.”

Natalie stepped back until she was several feet away, the shot already captured in her mind. She pressed the button once. Twice. “Perfect,” she murmured. “That’s perfect.”

Her blood was buzzing with joy. With victory.

She’d hesitated before asking Melissa to set up the equipment. She’d started taking pictures cautiously and had tried to control her excitement, afraid where it might take her. Yet it had all come back to her, feeling more natural than breathing. And she knew she’d gotten the shots she wanted. Depending on how she framed them, the gray blobs she saw could be changed into something more. Something richer, with a deeper meaning that others might see, too. Something almost…colorful.

“Oh, Natalie.”

Natalie froze at the sadness in Melissa’s voice. She lowered her camera and straightened.

“What is it?”

“You look just like you used to when taking pictures. You look happy.”

Her friend’s voice cracked with emotion. Slowly, the euphoria that had swept through her body faded, and she pictured Melissa, frozen forever in her mind as she’d looked just months ago, the magenta streaks in her hair suddenly reminding her of blood staining a pristine white sheet.

Frowning, Natalie shook her head, and the image vanished. “Things are getting better. I’m as tough as I used to be. I mean, I held my own with Agent McKenzie, after all. You would have been proud of me.” How would Special Agent McKenzie react if she wanted to photograph him? If she wanted to touch his waist and adjust his posture so she could capture his strong, masculine body to its best advantage?

“You bet I would have been proud,” Melissa said a little too loudly, her words sounding a bit forced, as well. “Anyway, don’t mind me. I’ve just missed you so much. When I saw—” She cried out. “That’s right! I didn’t even tell you. The Plainville Post ran a couple of your photographs last week. Did you see—”

Natalie ignored her friend’s moan of embarrassment at her poor choice of words. “Really? Which ones?”

“They were taken at the farmers’ market.”

Natalie nodded but instantly remembered the crack of her camera hitting pavement. The feeling of being trapped in a menacing darkness, so different from the kind she’d imagined sharing with Agent McKenzie. Other than that moment, she had very little memory of attending the farmers’ market that day. She remembered arriving and starting to walk. Taking a couple of pictures. But then things were a blank until she’d felt the pain behind her eyes, experienced her vision shorting out, and then felt pain again when she’d tried to move.

She’d bumped into one person after another, their surprised exclamations and questions of concern sounding like alarm bells, virtually deafening her, and she’d ended up falling and knocking her head against the pavement, causing her to lose consciousness. When she’d woken up, she’d been in a hospital emergency room, even more disoriented by the medicinal scents and the moans of pain from others around her. Her head had filled with memories of her mother. Drugs. Restraints. The nurses and doctors had been strangers with no idea that she couldn’t see, and she hadn’t told them at first, which had merely complicated things, and her panic had grown into pure hysteria that had—