You're Still the One (12 page)

              The gentle sympathy in his voice tugged at her, urged her to move toward him. She could still feel his reserve, see it in the sudden flare in his eyes, but she needed to be close to him.

              "You really helped me yesterday, Rick."

              "Hey, I know it's tough, waiting to hear from her, wondering when you will." He stared over her head, a muscle in  his jaw working. "But you will."

              "I know. I meant, you were really there for me. Just like you always were."

              He pushed away from the tree, stepped around her. "Let's don't make more of that than there was, Katie. I was just doing what any...friend would do."

              "But I don't want just anyone to do it." She couldn't believe she'd said the words, and the brittle silence behind her told her he couldn't, either.

              She was afraid to turn around, but she did, her gaze going straight to his. Wariness and heat smoldered there. He was so solid, so strong. He'd always been those things. And she'd missed them. Missed
him.

              With each moment they spent together, it became clear how much. Keeping her gaze locked with his, she took a step toward him.

              "We should probably get back."

              She reached out, threaded her fingers with his. He tensed but didn't pull away. She knew what she had to do about Grace. If she could be close to Rick for just a minute, she knew she'd have the strength to do it.

              His fingers were warm and still in hers; his pulse beat a strong tattoo against the column of his throat. Want unfurled inside her, scrambling her pulse, plucking at her nerve endings. She saw desire, felt him fighting it. Fighting her.

              She moved closer, lifted one hand to the rugged line of his jaw. "I don't think I'd be able to get through any of this if it weren't for you. I think that's why I had to find you."

              He started to shake his head, and she laid a finger against his lips. His chest was deep and strong. His eyes bored into hers, guarded, piercing.

              "Don't you ever wonder?" she whispered, unable to keep from dragging her index finger across his bottom lip.

              His free hand came up, clamped around her wrist and pulled her away. "No."

              She looked into his eyes, saw the lie. The black fire in his gaze turned her bones to water.

              "Don't you ever think about how good it was between us? What might've happened?"

              "No." But the word was choked, and his gaze fell to her lips.

              She could see the same questions in his eyes that had tortured her since last night. She could read the craving to find out, feel it in the way his body tightened against hers. She might regret it later, but for now she had to know.

              Keeping her gaze locked with his, afraid he would step away, she raised up on tiptoe. His grip tightened on her wrist, but he didn't move.

              One kiss. Given freely. Completely unrelated to hidden cameras or listening devices.

              She had to taste him, had to know if they could possibly have another chance. It wasn't over. The smoldering darkness of his eyes, the taut quiver of his body told her he wanted her.

              She touched her lips to his, and it was as if a barrier broke. The need and hunger that had slowly swirled between them exploded.

              On a growl, he hauled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He ravaged her mouth, his hands skimming her back, cupping her bottom and anchoring her to him. She felt something sharp and rough at her back, realized he'd backed her up against the tree. She didn't care. All she wanted was him, to have this insane whirlpool of need take her down as it was doing now.

              He lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist. "Damn, Katie. Damn."

              Dragging his lips from hers, he nipped his way down her neck, and she clutched at him, kissing his ears, his temple, his cheek. He was hot and hard between her legs, making silver heat lick at her belly.

              After tugging her T-shirt out of the waistband of her jeans, he slid his hand beneath. His palm, slightly callused, sent a shiver through her as he dragged it over her rib cage. When his hand closed over her silk-covered breast, she moaned, the pleasure a sharp ache inside her.

              He captured her mouth again, and her tongue skimmed his lips, stroked his tongue.

              With a strangled curse, he slid her down his body and put her on her feet. Her legs wobbled, and she braced herself against the tree, her hands spearing into his hair as he shoved her shirt up, took her in both his hands.

              His thumbs skimmed her nipples, hard and straining against the think material of her bra. He flicked open the front catch, and her breasts spilled into his hands. She made a sound deep in her throat, her breath stalling at the sight of his hands bronze against the pearl of her flesh.

              He dipped his head, circled one nipple with his tongue.

              "I love your breasts. I've always loved your breasts."

              A flush heated her body. The shyness she thought she'd outgrown whistled back, but only for a second. His mouth moved over her, gently, hungrily. Heat shot straight to her core. Trembling, she arched into him, holding on tightly, loving the sensation of being swept into a tide of feeling.

              His kiss claimed and demanded. He lifted his head, his gaze scorching as he caressed her breasts again.

              "Why didn't we fight harder for this? she breathed, clutching at his shoulders to keep him close. "How did I ever walk away from you?"

              It took her a moment to realize he'd stopped. His mouth branded her neck; his hands cradled her breasts.

              She opened her eyes, her mid fuzzy with desire. The disbelief in his eyes, the resentment hit her senses like a slap.

              "Rick?"

              With unsteady hands, he pulled her shirt down and stepped away. Barely six inches, but it felt like miles.

              "Rick?" A sob backed up in her throat. Hunger clawed through her, twisting a knot of need.

              His breathing was ragged, his pulse jumping wildly in his neck. "We're not going to do this, Katie."

              "But--"

              "No." He help up both hands as if toward her off. "I'm not going down that road again."

              "But things are different now." Still shaky, she fastened her bra, straightened her shirt and tucked it in. She tried to think around the feel of his hands on her body.

              "I was always there for you. You were never there for me.  And I'm not talking about sex. I commit, you don't." he said harshly, turning away from her. "Things are not different."

              "They could be." She snagged his elbow, drawing a savage look. She released him. "What you said about Grace is true. It's time to make hr grow up. I'm ready to do that."

              "Just like that?" he said doubtfully, the heat in his eyes cooling.

              "Yes. I realized that before now, but I couldn't admit it. You made me face it. I've got to stop bailing her out, let her start making her own mistakes."

              "Darlin', this is me you're talking to."

              "I'm not saying it will be easy, but I'm ready." She sounded desperate and didn't care.

              "I know how responsible you feel over your mom, Katie." He reached out, almost reluctantly she thought, and stroked a finger down her cheek. "I don't think you can walk away. Not from Grace, not from any of the responsibility you feel."

              "I know Mom's death wasn't my fault." She gripped his arms, granite-hard beneath her palms. "Logically I know it, but if I hadn't thrown a fit for those shoes, she wouldn't have taken me to the mall. And Grace wouldn't have been deprived of a mother."

              "You were fourteen, Katie. You were not driving the car. Not her car, not the car that hit her. You tried to help her, and there was nothing anyone could do."

              "I know all that." The emotions of the last few minutes, the seesaw between worry and gut-twisting desire dissolved the few defenses she had left. Tears burned, and she swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "I know you're right."

              "Hell." Rick shifted uneasily, then lifted the tail of his polo shirt. "Here."

              "I'm not going to cry," she sniffed, waving away his offer.

              "I know." He reached out, thumbed a tear from her cheek. For a second, just an instant, his palm cupped her cheek, then he pulled away.

              "Once we find Grace and I know she's all right, I'm going to tell her."

              He shook his head. "Kit--"

              "I mean it. I'm going to do it."

              "Can you, Katie?" He went completely still, his gaze probing hers. "Can you really?"

              "You don't expect me to walk away now?" She wiped another tear off her cheek. "She's in danger."

              "This certainly doesn't seem to be one of her typical stunts. And no, I don't expect or want you to turn your back on her. But I don't believe you'll be able to let go once she gets back, even if she's safe and sound. Besides, I'm not what you really want anyway. You're confused by the uncertainty of this situation. When we find your sister--"

              "No, I'm not confused. I do want you. I
want us
. I know it now. I know what I need to do, what it's time to do."

              "Do you know?" He advanced on her, backing her against the same tree where he'd kissed the breath out of her. A raw hunger, primal and disturbing, blazed in his black eyes and reached out to her. "Because I'd want all of you, Katie."

              He was lethal and glorious and undeniably male. The low, harsh edge in his voice sent a shiver rippling through her. A delicious heat started between her legs.

              "All of you. No sharing this time. I won't settle for less ever again. And you can't do it, Katie. You can't commit, at least not to me."

              "I want to try." She'd never been so excited or frightened in her life. Her heart pounded in her throat; her body trembled. "I really want to try."

              His gaze locked with hers, searching, measuring. In one split second, she saw it-- the decision, the rejection.

              "That's good," he said, gently removing her hand. "I hope you can someday."

              She felt more lonely than she had in years. Since the day she'd told him no. Emotion welled in her throat, and she struggled to get the words out. "That's not enough for another chance?"

              He stared at her for a long moment, uncertainty then regret chasing across his carved features. Tension lashed his shoulders.

              "No," he said simply.

CHAPTER 8

              Just after six that evening, his mood as hot and unrelenting as the sun burning its way down the sky, Rick drove north on May Avenue toward Billy Edwards' apartment complex. Why the hell had Katie decided she wanted to change now? Why did she think she could change?

              She sat beside him, arms folded protectively across her middle, staring silently out the window. She hadn't said a total of ten words since they'd returned from his parents' place. Not even after Mary's phone call a few minutes ago with a message she'd picked up from Mrs. Carter on the company voice mail. The elderly neighbor of Tommy's ex-cell mate had called to say that she'd spoken to Edwards in the apartment complex's parking lot.

              Katie's scent slid seductively around him. The velvety feel of her soft, delicious flesh still branded his hands, his mouth. And the harder he tried to forget, the more clearly he recalled the creamy taste of her. Sheer sexual frustration had every nerve in his body wired tight enough to relay electricity.

             
Kit wanted him.

              Rick locked his jaw. While that knowledge could still make his pulse spike, it also made his resolve harden. He hated the distance between them, but it was for the best. She'd said she wanted another chance, but what she really wanted was for things to be the way they used to be.

              He rubbed at the knot of tension that had settled in his neck. She could still prime him from zero to ready in under five seconds. He didn't like it, didn't want it, but he had to deal with it. For the present, he wasn't getting the space he needed from her. If he could just get a break in this case, work would go a long way toward keeping his mind from replaying the shadowy pictures of what had happened between him and Katie today.

              He'd spent the afternoon outside on the phone, in the garage on the phone, anywhere she wasn't. Katie had stayed in the living room. Lunch and dinner had been bleak, sober affairs. Katie had called Tommy's parents again, only to learn they'd had no word from their son. Rick had lost count of the number of times she'd checked her home answering machine for a message from Grace, without luck.

              The calls he'd made -- to Mary, Carl, Kyle Walker, Uncle Dwayne - hadn't yielded much better results. Only Rick's conversation with Carl had potential. The computer expert was piecing together some deleted files from Tommy's computer and might have something later. Rick had also called a guy who did regular work for him and ordered a background check on Billy Edwards.

              All afternoon, Rick had managed to stay busy, but thoughts of Katie tickled the back of his mind. His body, still aching and hard, cursed him for pushing her away, but he knew he'd done the right thing.

              She'd made her choice ten years ago, and he'd learned to live with it. He might want her physically, but he wasn't laying his heart on the chopping block again. They could work together, but they couldn't be together.

              As he swung the 'Vette into the parking lot of Edwards' apartment complex, dusk settled in shades of silver over the city, gray sifting over the thin line of red at the horizon. Finding a space in front of Billy's mud-brown building, Rick killed the engine and got out. Katie did the same. Dark shadows ringed her eyes; fatigue pinched at her delicate features.

              He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. This enforced closeness made his nerves as raw as those mind melting kisses at the creek had.

              They needed a break in this case and fast. Surely Grace would call soon for money, as she'd told Katie.

              Each two-story building had four apartments on the top and bottom floors, two on each side of a set of concrete steps that led to the second floor. Edwards' apartment was on the lower floor, the back one on the right. As soon as Rick stepped past the staircase, he froze. Yellow crime scene tape stretched across Edward's door.

              Automatically, he slammed out a protective arm.

              "Hey!" Katie said as he bumped her chest. Then she saw the door, too. "Oh, no."

              The chirp of crickets punctuated the stillness. Rick looked in both directions of the walk-through breezeway. Golden light thrown by a setting sun shone through the opposite open end of the building. He saw the same telltale yellow crime scene tape on the end of a bush. Dread formed a cold knot in his gut.

              "Young man!" A paper-thin voice whispered from the next apartment.

              Rick ducked to look under the staircase. One half of Mrs. Carter wrinkled face peered at him. "Are you all right, Mrs. Carter?"

              "Yes, yes." She motioned them over and cracked the door barely enough to let them in. Once they stepped inside, she quickly shut the door, locked the dead bolt and slid in the chain lock. "My sister's coming to get me. The police don't think I should stay here. I certainly don't, either."

              "What happened?"

              The older lady dabbed at red-rimmed eyes. "It was awful, just horrible. I found him, right back there behind the apartment building."

              "Maybe you should sit down," Rick suggested, worried at how frail the old woman looked.

              "Thank you." She let him lead her into the small living room and help her onto a nubby, olive-green couch. "I went outside to get my mail. I always return by the back way because I check the bushes. Sometimes the maintenance man here doesn't water them. And there he was. Hidden underneath. Blood everywhere. It was horrible. I called the police right off."

              "That was good."

              Katie rubber her arms as if she were cold.

              Apprehension snake across Rick's neck. "Was it Billy Edwards, Mrs. Carter?"

              "They marked everything off. No one can go in that apartment until they're finished looking around."

              He nodded, familiar with the procedure. "Ma'am?"

              "The police said he was murdered," she whispered, pressing the handkerchief to her eyes again. Her thin, wrinkled skin was mottled. "That's why I'm going to my sister's."

              Rick struggled to keep his voice level. "I need to know, Mrs. Carter. Was it Billy?"

              "Yes. Yes." She dabbed at her eyes again.

              Rick's gaze sliced to Katie. Horror widened her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hand.

              The news dropped on Rick like a hammer. Billy Edwards had been their best hope for new information. The one person Tommy may have confided in, Edwards was dead. Had crucial information died with him? This was not the break Rick had hoped for.

              A few hours later, Rick hung up the phone in his study and leaned back in his sofa leather chair. Damn. Kyle Walker at the OCPD had just confirmed Rick's fear, and he did not want to tell Katie. Walker's information had forced Rick to admit that Grace was in definite danger, more than he and Katie had probably suspected.

              His desk lamp burned bright over the notes he'd scribbled concerning Grace's case. As they'd left Edwards's, Rick had worried at the chalkiness of Katie's face, but she'd insisted she was fine. Once home, she had disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, then moved into the living room, cool and calm. He knew she wasn't.

              The television hummed at the same low volume he'd worked to all evening. Since he and Katie had returned from Billy Edwards' apartment complex, Rick had sequestered himself in here to work. Katie had watched television. Or rather, she'd had the thing turned on.

              His study door was open, and every minute or so, like clockwork, he would see movement from the corner of his eye. Katie pacing.

              She didn't cry, didn't ask questions, didn't say a thing. She was wearing a hole in his nerves not to mention his carpet. He knew she was worried about Grace, and he knew, too, she wouldn't say anything to him about it. She'd gone deep into herself after that incident at the creek. Finding out about Edwards had caused her to withdraw even further.

              Rick knew he'd hurt her. The urge to reach out, try to reassure her about Grace was strong and insistent, but he couldn't risk getting close to her again. If he let her in, it would kill him when she walked away. And  she would walk away.

              It registered then that, aside from the low murmur of the television, no sound came from the living room. Too long had passed since he'd heard the soft give of sofa leather or the crackle of magazine pages. He pushed back his chair, rose and walked out of the study, then crossed the ceramic tile of the entryway. The television droned on, but Katie wasn't on the sofa. Or in the matching oversize chair. Or anywhere in the room.

              Panic squeezed his chest. The kitchen was dark. He glanced toward the patio doors. And saw a flash of moonlight and shadow in the pool. Movement.

              Striding to the glass doors, he watched for a moment. Katie sliced through the water with the sleep precision of a machine. Long, purposeful strokes. Swift. Single-minded. The water shimmered around her.

              Pale light hit the soft curve of her cheek and jaw as she came up for air. Skimming through the water, reaching one end of the pool, flipping a turn, swimming to the other end. She did it again. And again. A relentless, punishing pace.

              Rick's heart clenched.

              She just swam. He didn't know how long she'd been our there, how long he stood there. Her strokes became shorter, choppy. Desperate.

              Finally, she reached the shallow end and weakly pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the pool. Even from here, he could see how she labored for breath after breath. Except for the frantic rise and fall of her chest, she didn't move. Just sat there, legs half in the pool, limply huddled into herself as she stared at the moon's reflection on the water.

              Should he leave her alone?

              The trees in the yard swayed with a breeze. Silvery light skipped across the pool. He went and snatched a towel from his bathroom, then took it outside.

              The air was cool for June. She had to be freezing. He stopped behind her, his fingers closing tightly over the terry cloth as he saw the points of her shoulder blades thrown into sharp relief with each breath.

              "Katie?"

              She gave no sign of having heard him. She just sat there, a lonely silhouette with the night curling around her like smoke.

              "I brought you a towel." His voice sounded loud and alien against the quietness of the night.

              "Thanks." Her voice was as flat as cardboard.

              Concern surged through him and he knelt beside her. "You should probably come on in."

              Her chin trembled, as did the rest of her body.

              "Here." He held the towel out to her, and when she didn't take it, he unfolded it, laid it across her shoulders.

              At his touch, she scrambled up, splashing water onto the patio, onto his boots. Her fingers grabbed at the edges of the towel as she stepped onto the solid concrete surrounding the pool.

              Her reaction spurred as much regret as resentment in him. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. There were both on edge, and he knew she had to be frightened over what had happened to Billy Edwards.

              She slid the towel from her shoulders, patted her face and neck. He recognized her one-piece blue tank suit as one from the closet next to the hot tub. The too-large top gaped slightly at the neck, exposing the shadow between her breasts.

              She ran the towel down her legs. "Have you talked to your friend at the police department?"

              Rick nodded. There was no need to tell her everything.

              Arranging the towel sarong-style around her slender curves, she tucked in one end to secure it. "You might as well tell me. I have a right to know."

              "I don't have any news on Grace." He brought one hand up, rubbed the back of his neck.

              "But you found out something about Sanchez, didn't you?"

              "Yes."

              "Tell me then."

              "There's no point--"

              "Stop trying to protect me." Her chin angled stubbornly at him.

              "It has nothing to do with Grace."

              "That man was linked to Grace. He knew Tommy, didn't he?"

              "It has nothing
directly
to do with her." Rick shoved a hand through his hair, hating how cool and prickly she sounded.

              "You tell me, Rick Powell." She stepped closer, moonlight revealing the wanness of her face. Her eyes glittered between wet, spiky lashes. Despite the command in her voice, she looked fragile.

              He could still see remaining hurt in her eyes from what had happened between them earlier. Thank goodness she wouldn't know the significance of what he was about to tell her. "The guy was shot execution-style. Two bullets to the head."