What's in a Name? (16 page)

“
Oh, no you don’t.
Don’t mess with me, baby. That’s better. Right.”

He stretched out. After giving up on
Celebrity Poker
, he went back to a
Queer Eye for the
Straight Guy
marathon, always good for a laugh. Thom and Carson
were trying to make over some poor slob when he heard a choking
noise from the desk and Kelli dashed past him to the bathroom. The
door slammed, but he could hear her being wretchedly ill. He looked
toward the closed door, then crossed to the desk to see what had
upset her. He was fairly certain it hadn’t been the salmon.

When he saw the display his own stomach
churned. Rape. Assault. Manslaughter. More rape. Murder two.
Scumbag liked to take his time with his victims. Cut them. He’d
been arrested numerous times, in and out of prison on lesser
charges. Apparently he had some damn good lawyers. A block of ice
settled in his belly when he pictured what could have happened to
Kelli.

He’d thought the guy was a two-bit
punk. He cursed his stupidity. He should never have left the SOB.
They should have tossed him in the back of the pickup and dropped
him in front of a police station. He heard the bathroom door open
and a white and shaky Kelli emerged. She met his gaze, then
straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

“
Sorry. I freaked.”
She headed back to the computer and pulled the chair
out.

He put his hand on hers. “Do what you
have to do to shut this machine off. You’re going to bed.”

He saw her glance at her watch and
checked his own. After eleven. Defiance sparked in her eyes,
followed by resignation.

“
You might try asking
once in a while, instead of commanding.” She clicked the mouse a
few times and he watched the screen fade, then go black.

“
Commanding? Me? Wait
an effing minute. I’ve taken your pills, flooded myself with your
fluids, sat around like an idiot while you tell me who I am, where
I can and can’t go, what I can and can’t say. Your turn to listen
to me.”

She rubbed her temples. “You’re right.
I’m sorry. I’m not used to having anyone around.”

He rested his hands on her shoulders.
“Like white on rice.”

She nodded and gave him a feeble
imitation of The Shake.

“
You ought to watch
that,” he said.

“
What?”

“
You do
this—thing—with your head. You shake it, roll your eyes. It’s cute,
but it’s very Kelli. Not that anyone would notice, but it was
probably Casey, too.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Thanks. I’ll
be more careful.”

“
I’ll miss it.” He ran
his finger along her jaw. “Go to bed. Get some sleep.”

She got to the bedroom door before she
turned around. “Blake?” He barely heard her.

“
Hmm?”

“
The couch … You don’t
need to … I don’t think I want to be alone.”

His heart did a stutter step. “Are you
sure?”

She nodded. “We’re married, remember?”
She gave him a crooked smile. “And I was married long enough to
know two people can share a bed and not do anything but sleep.”

He pushed back his disappointment.
“Sleep it is, then. Give me a couple of minutes.” He headed to his
bathroom. While he brushed his teeth, he stared at the condoms in
his kit. He picked one up. After all, Kelli knew all about them.
She may have said all she wanted was sleep, but something more
might give both of them release from the mess they were in.

He rinsed his mouth and tiptoed into
the bedroom. Kelli was curled into a tight ball at the edge of one
side. If it were possible to take up any less room in a bed, he
couldn’t imagine it. She’d left the lamp on his side on. He pulled
back the covers and slid the condom into the nightstand drawer. No
need to appear too obvious. He turned off the lamp and got into
bed.

Kelli tossed and turned, making tiny
whimpering noises. He worked his way across the king-sized bed and
touched her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re dreaming.”

“
Hold me?” Her voice
quavered. “He was going to kill me. I can’t make the pictures go
away.”

He drew her against him. “I know, I
know. It’s all right. I’m here.”

“
Like white on
rice?”

“
You got it.” He
nuzzled her hair, inhaling her scent. He told himself to take it
easy. She’d been reliving two sexual traumas. She needed to feel
safe with him. He planted gentle kisses on the back of her neck and
caressed her back with lazy strokes.

His fingers moved along her shoulder,
down the back of her arm. She sighed and snuggled closer, pressing
her body against his. He followed the contour of her body to the
curve at her waist. Her shirt had crept up and he ventured over her
hip, down the side of her thigh, still keeping his touch light. Her
breathing steadied and he let her relax, enjoying the feel of her
skin, smooth and warm beneath his hand.

He was about to move his hands to her
front when he felt her go dead weight. He didn’t know whether to be
glad she was able to relax so completely in his presence, or
crushed she was immune to his seductive prowess. He decided to go
with the former, staring at the ceiling, waiting for things to
settle so he could sleep.

Dawn was thinning the shadows in the
room when Blake discovered the erotic dream he was having wasn’t
completely a dream. Kelli’s arm was draped across his chest and her
leg was nestled between his thighs. His brain lectured him about
her vulnerability, but it wasn’t his brain responding. When he
tried to move away, she grabbed him tighter. Soft, warm, still
smelling like soap and shampoo. Her hands wandered down his chest.
He sucked in his belly. Her hair, feather light, brushed his neck.
She nestled tighter against him.

Relax and enjoy the moment? No, idiot.
Use the brain above your neck. She’s dreaming. Probably of her late
husband. Wake her. Sure. In a minute. Wouldn’t want to startle
her.

Her fingers, moving lower, grazed the
edge of the bandage on his midsection. Paused. Jerked away. Her leg
disappeared from between his. Her eyes opened.

“
Shit.” She flopped
over onto her back.

“
Not the word a guy
likes to hear under the circumstances.”

“
God, I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean it. I must have been dreaming.”

Didn’t mean it. Of course not. He
turned onto his back, realizing too late that her eyes were fixed
on the tenting of the sheet at his groin.

Her eyes met his, then looked away.
“Well, I guess you’re not gay.”

He sat bolt upright. “What made you
think—? Hey, lots of straights watch
Queer Eye
. It’s
funny.”

Kelli buried her face in her hands. “I
think I’d like to wait until my brain catches up to my mouth.”

God, she was cute when she was
embarrassed. Which did nothing for his reaction. He found the
blanket and covered himself further. “No way. Tell me what you were
thinking. You’re my wife, after all. No secrets.”

With a deep sigh, she turned on one
side, propped up on her elbow. “When Stockbridge told me you were
coming, he said you were a perfect gentleman. And then I saw you
and you were gorgeous, so I assumed … because of what happened with
Robert … It was easier to deal with a man so close if I didn’t
think he’d … you know.”

“
I
understand.”

“
I guess when you were
hurt, maternal instinct kicked in and then … I don’t know. You
rescued me, somewhere we became a team and I felt comfortable—or
something.”

“
Or something.” He
leaned a fraction closer. She didn’t back away, but she didn’t move
in, either. He waited. She stared at him and he saw the half-awake
dreaminess fade as she came more fully awake. He swallowed his
frustration when her features turned to all business.

She pulled back the covers. “It’s
six-thirty. I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to get back
to sleep.” She climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. At
the doorway, she looked over her shoulder. “Want to go downstairs
and try to have breakfast like two ordinary people?”

Kelli felt anything but ordinary during
breakfast. Half asleep or not, she had come on to Blake. Now, they
sat across the table from each other in the hotel coffee shop.
Whenever he looked up from his eggs, she knew his eyes could see
right into her thoughts and he’d know she’d been dreaming—of him.
Then they both got busy eating for a while, until one looked up and
it started all over again.

She spread an English muffin with
strawberry jam and knew her face must be the same color.

“
It was a normal,
human reaction,” Blake said to his plate. “Nothing either of us
needs to be ashamed of.”

“
Right. Didn’t mean
anything. We were asleep.” The trouble was, although the
embarrassment was fading, there was another feeling building, one
low in her belly. A tingling she hadn’t felt in a long time. One
she wasn’t sure she wanted to be feeling.

Stop. He’d saved her life and she was
grateful. Like falling in love with your doctor. Shit, what was she
thinking? This was not falling in love. Falling in love was not an
option. This was two people thrust together with a problem to
solve. Just because one of them was drop-dead gorgeous didn’t make
a difference. And, speaking of problems, it was time to get back to
work. She waved to the waiter for the check.

“
All right,” Kelli
said when they were back in the room. She’d spread her files and
notes along the conference table. “We need to start from scratch.
Look at everything. See what fits where. I can’t get over the
feeling I’m missing something important. That I’ve made a huge leap
based on a false assumption.”

“
So, what do we have?”
Blake sat at the opposite end of the table, picking up papers,
glancing at them and putting them back down.

“
Hollingsworth sent
you to see if I was Casey Wallace. But he didn’t tell you
why?”

“
No. And even his
assistant didn’t know where I was, which is unheard of. She’s never
out of the loop.”

She chewed on her pen. “So, we can
assume this is personal. Only trouble with that hypothesis is I
don’t know Dwight Hollingsworth. But he seems to think he knows
Casey.”

She started making a chart, putting
Casey in the center. “Then there’s Thornton. He’s the money behind
the project. According to Stockbridge, Thornton pushed up the
schedule and had you hired. But your cover story came from
Hollingsworth, right?”

“
Yes. Dwight’s in
Chicago and I was working in Seattle at the time, convenient enough
to Spokane and EnviroCon. I figured he either had a thing for Casey
Wallace, or she had something he wanted.”

“
Wait.” She went to
the desk, picked up her cell phone and punched in Jack’s
number.

“
Hey, Kiddo,”
Stockbridge said. “Are you all right? I saw the news. I was going
to come down—discuss the project, you know.”

“
I think it’s better
if you don’t. Not that I think someone’s watching you, but if they
are, they might follow and recognize us.”

“
You let me know what
I can do.”

“
You said Thornton
called and recommended Windsor—gave you the references. Did you
speak to him personally?”

After a moment, Stockbridge spoke. “No,
now that you mention it, the call came from his assistant.”

“
Thanks. I think. Do
you know the assistant’s name?”

“
Sorry. My secretary
took care of it. I checked Windsor’s references myself, but no, I
never spoke directly to Thornton.”

“
Thanks. I’ll keep you
posted.” She ended the call and wandered to the window, trying to
sort through the new information.

Blake gave her a questioning look when
she came to the table again. “Good? Bad? Helpful?”

“
Well, since
Stockbridge never spoke to Thornton, it weakens Thornton’s
connection to Hollingsworth. It’s possible Hollingsworth was
pretending to be working for Thornton.” She wrote “Thornton” on her
chart with a big question mark next to it.

“
Who’s
next?”

“
Scumbag, I suppose.
He was going to kill us, right?”

Blake’s eyes grabbed her again, but she
kept her gaze on his when he answered. “I think so.”

“
Why? Hollingsworth
didn’t send you to kill me, did he?”

“
Of course not. Dwight
told me to see if I could connect you to Casey. Period.”

“
Which you didn’t—at
least as far as Hollingsworth knows, right?”

“
Right.”

“
So you think
Hollingsworth got tired of waiting for you to answer and sent
McGregor—Scumbag—to eliminate the problem, right or wrong? Or maybe
he got his answer from another source? And then sent
Scumbag?”

Blake rubbed his eyes and massaged his
temples. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m no detective. I only
read three Sherlock Holmes stories.”

“
Well, do you think
Scumbag was going to go after you, too?”

“
Sweetheart, I’m
clueless. I know I’ve pissed off some people, but I was always
representing Hollingsworth. I don’t think anyone would be coming
after me personally.”

She wrote Blake’s name on the chart,
but in smaller letters and off in a corner. “Okay. Robert’s turn.
All I can think of is someone tied Casey to Robert and Kelli to
Casey.” She looked at Blake, who was pacing now. “Does that make
sense to you?”