by Lisa Childs
Her heart did a strange little flip, or so it felt—which was ridiculous. She was probably just nervous about the detective. After what had happened to her mother, she was always nervous around the police.
She had never been nervous around Heath before, but for some reason she was now. Or maybe it was just that strange sensation that persisted all during their lunch that unsettled her—that feeling of being watched.
Of course Heath was putting on quite the show of flirting with her and touching her...so much so that her pulse was all fluttery and she felt a little breathless. Finally the bill came, easing some of the tension. They could stop their little show now and get back to business and friendship only. After he paid, he pulled back her chair and guided her through the dining room to the lobby.
He retrieved her jacket for her and helped her into it, pulling her hair from the collar as he did. He trailed his fingers through the strands, and he murmured something in appreciation.
Kylie turned to glance up at him, and he lowered his head and kissed her. His mouth slid over hers, his lips both firm and soft. Even though she knew he was only doing it to perpetuate the lie she’d told, something inside her reacted, making her pulse quicken, her lips tingle, and she kissed him back.
* * *
Her lips were as silky as her hair, which he found himself grasping as the kiss knocked him off-balance. Heath had just intended to brush his mouth across hers in a casual kiss—that would make it look like they were familiar with each other, like they kissed all the time.
But they didn’t.
They hadn’t.
Why the hell hadn’t they?
Her mouth was so sweet, her lips so soft...
And his heart was beating so damn fast, pounding so heavily in his chest that he couldn’t hear anything. But he reminded himself that they were not alone. They were in the restaurant lobby, so he pulled back. If they had been alone, he wasn’t certain he would have been able to pull away—at least not without making the kiss more intimate, without touching more than her silky hair.
He slid his fingers free of it and reached around her to open the door to the street. His hand shook a little as that adrenaline continued to course through him.
That was all it was, a little rush from the dangerous game they were playing in lying to the homicide detective. A stupid game.
Heath had bigger things to worry about—like the murders and the business and his family. But at the moment Kylie filled his thoughts and his senses.
His head was full of that soft floral scent she wore. And his mind filled with images of how she’d looked in his bed. That night he’d just stared at her. But if she shared his bed again, he would be tempted to do more.
He was already tempted to kiss her again. And now he wondered if—in trying to fool everyone else—that he was beginning to fool himself into thinking that they were more than they were. Maybe that was why that kiss had affected him so much and was making him long for another.
He slid his arm around her and leaned toward her, but the sidewalk was crowded, bodies jostling them. She stared up at him, her dark eyes full of the same confusion gripping him. But it wasn’t only confusion gripping him.
Desire did, too. Desire for her.
“Heath...” she murmured. If she said anything else, he couldn’t hear it—not on the busy street.
“Let’s go,” he said as he guided her through the crowd toward the crosswalk. He had parked at a lot down the block, so they had to cross the street. He glanced at the light which was still lit up to walk. But as he stepped off the curb, a noise drew his attention—the sound of an engine revving.
Then tires squealed as the car rounded the corner, heading straight toward them. Using his arm around her, he lifted Kylie from her feet, but even as fast as he moved, the car was faster...
* * *
Such rage...
Blinding rage. So blinding that the driver couldn’t be certain that the couple had been struck. A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed they were on the ground, though.
Dead?
Wounded?
They had to be, at the very least, wounded. They couldn’t have escaped unscathed. They had to be hurting, like the driver was hurting. It was only fair.
Chapter 9
Kylie couldn’t breathe—not with the weight of Heath’s body pressing down on hers. Was it his body weight or fear that had stolen away her breath?
Was he all right?
What the hell had happened?
She shifted against the asphalt beneath her and asked, “Are you all right?”
He moved then, rolling off her before rising up from the ground. He extended his hand to her, but she stared hard at it—at him—before taking it.
“Is this your idea of sweeping a woman off her feet?” she asked.
He had literally swept her from her feet before running toward the opposite sidewalk. But they hadn’t made it all the way there, to safety. Instead they’d been knocked down in the street.
He lifted her up and steadied her with his hands on her arms. “Didn’t you see that car?” he asked. “It was almost as if it was heading directly at us.”
“Almost or was?” she wondered aloud then repeated her earlier question, “Are you all right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Are you? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
If that car had been heading right toward them, he had probably saved her life. But she couldn’t be sure how much danger they had actually been in because she hadn’t even seen the vehicle. Once he’d kissed her, she’d lost all sense of time and place and self.
Damn. Maybe she was more like her mother than she’d thought she was. First she’d lied to protect a man. Then she’d let his kiss affect her so badly that she hadn’t even realized that she was potentially in danger. Which had been the real threat, though? The speeding car or the kiss?
Or the man?
He was clearly as shaken as she was. From the kiss? Or had that car really come that close?
“Are you sure you weren’t struck?” she asked because he looked blindsided, his hair mussed, the sleeve of his jacket torn, his gaze unfocused.
He peered around them at the bystanders staring back at them.
“Are you okay?” a woman asked.
“Do you need an ambulance?” a man asked.
“Damn, that car was flying,” another remarked.
It had been close, apparently closer than Kylie had realized. But she’d been in a daze thanks to Heath’s kiss. At least he’d seen it; at least he’d saved them.
From what, though?
An accident?
That was all it had been, right? Or were they in mortal danger, too? Like Ernie and Alfie had been?
* * *
Heath couldn’t stop shaking. Was that from the rush of the adrenaline, the anger over nearly being struck or that damn kiss? What had he been thinking to kiss her? To play along with the crazy fake alibi in the first place?
“Heath!” Kylie called out like it hadn’t been the first time she’d tried getting his attention.
She had it. He’d been more focused on her than anything else. Where the hell had the car come from? And why had it been going so fast through a busy downtown intersection?
“Heath!” another woman called out his name, as Tatum rushed out the door of her restaurant. “Are you okay? Did that car purposely try to run you down? Should I call the police?”
He shuddered. He had no desire to deal with the police right now, not with the way Detective Parker had been treating him—like a suspect.
Tatum wasn’t looking at him that way now, with suspicion or if not suspicion, at least doubt. Whatever doubts Parker might have planted in her mind were gone now. Only concern darkened her blue eyes. “Are you okay?” She turned toward Kylie. “Are you?”
Kylie
nodded, but her hair was tangled around her face and one cheek was a little pink as if it had gotten chafed against the asphalt. Or maybe the cold had chafed it. The sunshine had gone now, leaving only dark clouds overhead and the snowflakes that a blustery wind whipped against them.
“Heath?” Tatum asked. “Do you want me to call 9-1-1?”
He shook his head. “No need. It was just an accident.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I was distracted.” That was true; he had been distracted. Kissing Kylie had distracted the hell out of him.
But he was pretty damn certain the traffic signal had directed him that it was still safe to walk. Apparently it had been wrong.
“That car was speeding like crazy,” someone remarked from the crowd that had gathered around them.
“Did anyone get a license plate number?” Tatum asked. “Or see the driver?”
The people shook their heads before finally dispersing, apparently assured that he and Kylie were not hurt. He wasn’t so sure. She looked shaken, and she trembled, as if shivering in the cold.
“I still think we should call the police,” Tatum insisted.
Heath shook his head. “Kylie is cold. I’m going to get her home.”
“Come back inside,” Tatum said. “It’s warm in there.”
“Is it?” he asked.
And his cousin’s face flushed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t really think for a moment that you could have anything to do with...”
He nodded. “It’s okay.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You could have been killed, too.”
He forced a grin. “It wasn’t that close. We’re fine.” But his arm throbbed a little where his jacket was torn. The side mirror of the speeding car must have caught it. So it had been close. Too damn close.
Just like he was beginning to get to Kylie. And even a fake relationship wasn’t a distraction he could afford right now. He needed to stay focused—for his family, for the business that was his dad and uncle’s legacy.
And for justice.
If the detective wasn’t going to try to find the real killer instead of just pitting Heath’s family members against each other, Heath would find the person. Or had that person already found him?
God, he was getting paranoid since he couldn’t help thinking that some random speeding driver had been trying to kill him.
“I’ll see you soon,” he promised his cousin. Then he clasped Kylie’s hand in his as they carefully crossed the street and headed to where he’d parked his vehicle.
Even if his paranoia wasn’t justified, he was going to be careful, for Kylie’s sake more than his own. He didn’t want to put her in danger—or any more danger than he already might have.
* * *
Tatum was as shaken as if that vehicle had nearly run her down. That was what the hostess had rushed into the kitchen to tell her. “Your cousin was nearly killed!”
The young woman was known to be a bit overdramatic, but with the way the crowd had gathered around Kylie and Heath with such concern, she suspected the hostess was right.
And Heath had downplayed what had happened.
Why?
Shivering, she rushed back into her restaurant to escape the cold wind and stinging snow. Instead of returning to the warmth of the kitchen, she headed up the steps to her office and to the cell phone she’d left sitting on her desk earlier. Her hand shook—with cold and with fear—as she pressed a button to make a call.
“Hey, Tatum,” her sister answered immediately.
She hadn’t called the police. It would have been too hard for her to file a report when she hadn’t seen anything. But she could still talk to a lawman—her sister’s boyfriend. “Hey, January,” she replied.
“How are you doing?” her sister asked with concern. January was such a caring person, so caring that she’d made helping people her life’s work.
“I—” her voice cracked as she struggled with all the emotions rushing over her. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d been hurting until that detective had asked her all those questions and muddled her mind.
Or maybe he’d made it clearer for her.
Her dad and uncle had been murdered. Their deaths hadn’t been an accident or an illness. Those would have been hard enough to accept. But murder?
It was unconscionable. January had seen a lot of unconscionable things as a social worker, though. Tatum, as a chef, had not.
“Do you want me to come over?” January asked. “Are you home?”
“No, I’m at True,” she admitted.
“You are?”
“Yes, I need to stay busy,” she explained. She didn’t want to think about anything but menus and meals and diners. But then that detective had arrived.
“Do you want me to come there?” January asked. “I would have earlier but Sean thought Detective Parker might have been heading to see you.”
“He did. He was here,” she replied.
“Did he question you like you were a suspect, too?” January asked.
“Yes. And he asked me about Heath.”
“Me, too,” January said. “And Kylie. Did you know they were seeing each other?”
“No, but they were here, too,” Tatum said. “And I’m worried about him.”
“You know he had nothing to do with their deaths,” January insisted defensively. “No matter what Joe Parker thinks. And if Heath says he and Kylie are together, I believe him.”
“I do, too,” Tatum said.
As her hostess had said, one minute her cousin was kissing his girlfriend—the next they were nearly getting run down by a car in the street. Tatum shared that gossip with her sister, like she had shared everything with her since they were kids.
And she could hear the smile in her sister’s voice when January said, “Good.”
“That they were nearly run down?” she asked, but she was only teasing. She knew January was too caring to want that to happen—to anyone.
“That they’re together. They’re such a better match than Heath and that gold digger he was dating.”
Tatum chuckled. She hadn’t been a fan of Gina either. Or of Melissa for that matter. Or of any other woman he’d casually dated. They hadn’t matched him for work ethic or intelligence until now—until Kylie Givens.
“I’m worried, though,” she shared.
“That he’s going to get his heart broken?”
“It would be the first time he’s put it on the line,” Tatum said. But she couldn’t talk. “I’m worried that that driver wasn’t just going too fast.”
“You think someone was actually trying to run them down?” January asked with alarm.
“Heath doesn’t think so. But what if what happened to Dad and Uncle Ernie was because of the business?” she asked.
“Then you’re thinking Heath and Kylie might be the killer’s next targets,” January surmised. “I’ll talk to Sean.”
“Good,” Tatum said. “It’s good having a lawman in the family.”
January laughed, a sound Tatum had missed hearing the past couple of days with pain and loss consuming everyone instead. “He’s not family yet,” her sister said.
“But he will be soon,” Tatum said. She had no doubt that her sister had met her match in Sean Stafford. They would definitely get married.
“Sean is worried about me,” January admitted. “About all of us...”
“He doesn’t share Detective Parker’s opinion of Heath, does he?” she asked.
“No,” January said. “But he did say that Parker’s instincts are usually right on. He thinks Heath might be lying about something.”
About what?
Him and Kylie? She hoped not; she really liked Kylie and while she hadn’t witnessed the kiss, the hostess had described it as pas
sionate as a soap-opera kiss.
Maybe Heath had lied about that car trying to run him down, but Detective Parker didn’t even know about that yet. But he should. Then maybe he would stop suspecting Heath.
Maybe Heath was already aware that someone was trying to kill him, and he didn’t want anyone to know about it because he didn’t want to upset them any more than they already were.
Chapter 10
Sean Stafford hadn’t known Ernie and Alfie Colton very long, but what he’d known about them, he’d liked and admired. They were loving fathers, good husbands, honorable men. Brilliant men.
Now they were dead—far too soon and violently. The woman Sean loved was devastated over their deaths, and now she was worried that her cousin might become the next victim in her family.
Sean was worried, too.
Heath hadn’t been at his penthouse. Or at Kylie’s place either. But from what Sean had learned about Heath, he should have known to look here first, at the scene of the crime.
Of course Heath and Kylie weren’t in the parking lot. But their vehicles were, along with a few other ones. Despite it being Saturday, they weren’t the only people in the building. Just two of the twenty stories were Colton Connections. So there could have been people in those other offices.
They might have been there the night of the murders. They might have seen something, although Joe Parker hadn’t found any witnesses. That didn’t mean they really hadn’t seen anything. Maybe that they were too scared to admit it. So when Sean stepped into the elevator another man held for him, he studied his face.
“What floor?” the man asked.
“Eighth,” he said.
The button was already pushed. “Fortunately for you that’s where I’m going, too,” he said. “Or you wouldn’t be able to get in unless security called up for you. And security doesn’t work weekends.”
Was that why he was there? Because there was no security.
“Why are you going to eight?” Sean asked.
“I work at Colton Connections,” the man replied. “And you?”
