by Brenda Gayle
As he approached her door he felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. Something was wrong.
Her door was slightly ajar. Had she forgotten to close it properly?
He had trouble picturing her being that irresponsible, but then again, she’d been pretty upset earlier tonight. He’d have to remind her to be more careful.
“Nora?” he whispered as he edged open the door. He didn’t want to scare her. “It’s me, Hunter. I’ve come to— Holy shit! Nora!”
Chapter 7
Hunter raced into Nora’s apartment. He frantically scanned the living room before he sprinted through to the bedroom. She wasn’t there.
He ran his hands through his hair and stared in disbelief at the mess. Drawers had been ripped out of the dresser and their contents tossed, articles of clothing were scattered all around the room. The mattress was no longer on the box spring, and the sheets were tangled on the floor.
He walked back to the living room. It was the same. An armchair lay on its side, cushions from the couch were lying on the floor, books had been pulled from shelves, and papers lay everywhere. He didn’t go into the kitchenette, but he could see the open cupboards and broken china through the opening.
She’s not here. He sighed, relieved that he hadn’t found her injured.
Where the hell is she?
He heard the sound of running footsteps in the hall and started for the door, freezing as the muzzles of two guns, one high, one low, appeared.
“Police!” a voice boomed.
“I’m alone and unarmed,” Hunter said, raising his hands.
Slowly two uniformed men entered the apartment. “Don’t move,” one said, keeping his gun aimed at Hunter’s chest. The other approached slowly and patted him down.
Hunter remained silent, waiting for the formalities to be over. He wasn’t going to try to rush men with drawn guns.
“What’s going on here?” The officer kept his firearm trained on Hunter. “Who are you?”
“Hunter Graham. I’m a friend of Nora Cross. I came to see her, and found her apartment like this. I just got here, myself.”
“I.D.?” said the officer closest to him, Dryer, according to his name badge.
“It’s in my pocket.” Hunter slowly reached into his jeans and handed his wallet to Dryer. He waited for the usual reaction and wasn’t disappointed. As soon as the officer saw his identification he let out a slow whistle.
“It’s okay, Simmons,” Dryer said. “He’s who he says he is.” He handed Hunter back his wallet. “Sorry Mr. Graham, but you understand...”
“Of course,” Hunter said. “Don’t worry about it.” He hid a small smile as Dryer hurried over to Simmons and began whispering. Simmons quickly lowered his gun, and began walking around the room.
“Did someone call this in?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah, dispatch received a call from a neighbor not long ago saying there was a disturbance. This is a pretty quiet neighborhood so that was unusual,” Dryer said.
“What kind of disturbance? Did the neighbor say whether Nora was home or not?” Hunter felt a wave of dread course through his body. He could feel the blood draining from his face. His hands were cold. What if she had been here when whoever did this had come? What if they had taken her?
“We didn’t get any details. When did you say you arrived?” Dryer pulled a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.
“Just before you did. I only had time to look in the bedroom and see that it’s been rifled through as well.”
“Do you know where the tenant is?” Simmons reappeared from the bedroom. “What did you say her name was? Cross?”
Hunter could hear Nora’s neighbors milling about in the hallway, their voices hushed, but none of them came into the apartment.
“Yes, Nora Cross. I don’t know where she is. I saw her at my restaurant earlier this evening, but that was a few hours ago.”
“And you don’t have any idea where she is now?” Simmons said.
Hunter shook his head.
“I don’t see signs of a struggle,” Dryer said.
Hunter felt an icy hand stop his heart. Signs? The place was bedlam. Did they mean blood? Dammit, Nora, where are you?
He hated the thought, but it would be a relief to know she was with Bower rather than kidnapped—or worse.
“Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on here?” a woman said from the doorway.
Hunter whirled around. The familiar voice was like a defibrillator to his heart, shocking it back to life.
He ran to Nora and seized her in a bold embrace. His left hand slipped under her coat and found the slit up the back of her jumpsuit as he secured her to him with his arm. He was desperate to feel the warmth of her skin. His right hand cupped her head, allowing his fingers to play in her glorious, thick hair. She felt small and vulnerable, but also solid and real.
“Thank God you’re safe.”
****
Nora stiffened, taken aback by the warmth of Hunter’s reception. Something was wrong.
She had caught a glimpse of the interior of her apartment just before he’d pulled her to him. It was in shambles.
And what was he doing here? He had been so furious with her earlier this evening she was sure he would never want to see her again.
It had bothered her at first, but then she’d decided it was probably for the best. She couldn’t sort out her feelings about him. He made her feel unbalanced and insecure, and she hated that. Yet, there were times when he looked at her, like when she’d changed into the camisole and then again tonight when he’d first seen her at Prime, that she felt attractive and appreciated as a woman. That was something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
She could feel the beating of his heart against her cheek and the rhythm of his fingers as they massaged her scalp. It felt so good and she relaxed into him, exhausted. It had been a long day—except it wasn’t over.
Something had happened to her apartment. In addition to her neighbors standing around the hallway, she had caught the image of someone in black as she pushed open the unlatched door. She was aware of the disembodied voice of a radio dispatcher. She could hear the sounds of embarrassed throat-clearing now, and she reluctantly detached herself from Hunter.
There were two police officers standing in the middle of her living room. Books, papers, and furniture were scattered everywhere.
“Miss Cross, I presume?” The older of the two officers stepped forward.
“Yes.”
“I’m Officer Jim Simmons. This is Officer Steve Dryer.” He motioned to the younger man.
Hunter stood beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her. She didn’t understand it, but appreciated the support.
Her apartment wasn’t very large and now, with the furniture in disarray and the presence of three large men, she was starting to feel claustrophobic. Her rapid pulse and shortness of breath were making it difficult to comprehend what was being said.
Simmons was explaining how they’d received a call about a break-in, and had arrived to find Hunter. Hunter said he’d arrived just before the police, and found her apartment door open.
“We need you to take a look around and see what’s missing,” Simmons said.
“Do you think it was kids?” Nora asked.
“Most likely.”
“They didn’t take the TV or the DVD player,” she said motioning to where both lay overturned on the floor.
“Probably too big and bulky. Plus they’re pretty old. They would be hard to sell,” Simmons said. “What about jewelry? Money? Liquor? Can you check for those?”
“I don’t have any of those things. The only jewelry I have that’s of any value is this silver bracelet, and I’m wearing it.”
“There’s a computer docking station over here, but no computer,” Dryer said from across the room.
“No, that’s right. I didn’t bring it home tonight. It’s still at my office.”
“Have a look around, Miss Cross.” Simm
ons said. “If we know what was taken, we’ll be better able to catch them.”
Nora nodded and began circling the apartment. Hunter silently accompanied her, his arm remaining around her as if he was afraid she’d collapse without his support. He may be right, she thought ruefully. This seemed so unreal.
“I’m sorry,” Nora said, coming out of the bedroom. “I just can’t see anything that’s missing right now. Nothing obvious anyway.”
“That’s fine, ma’am,” Dryer said. “Maybe they didn’t get anything, or maybe you’ll find something when you go to clean up.”
“Here’s my card,” Simmons said. “If you find anything that’s unusual or missing, give us a call.”
“That’s it? You’re leaving?” Hunter said. “What about interviewing the neighbors? Dusting for fingerprints?”
Simmons and Dryer exchanged a resigned look.
“I’m sorry Mr. Graham, and with all due respect Miss Cross, but this is a relatively low level crime. No one was injured and we’re not even sure anything was taken. We will, of course, continue to investigate as time and resources permit. But the reality is we’re not likely to find who did this. It’s more a matter for your insurance company now,” Simmons said.
“That is unacceptable,” Hunter said.
Nora could feel his body tense with indignation and she touched his arm gently. “It’s okay. They’re right. There are much more important crimes to deal with than a couple of kids who had the bad luck to select my apartment to break into.”
“If you find anything, please let us know,” Dryer said. The younger man seemed genuinely sorry that they couldn’t do more.
“Of course. Thank you.” Nora followed the officers to the door and watched them retreat down the hallway. Her neighbors expressed concern that something like this could happen in their building and offered words of encouragement to one another. Slowly, they returned to their own apartments.
Nora tried to secure the door behind her, but it wouldn’t catch. Damn, the latch is busted.
Across the room Hunter was righting furniture. She could tell by his brisk movements that he was upset. The muscles of his shoulders and back stretched the fabric of his dark green golf shirt as he lifted the television back onto the stand.
What in the world is he doing here?
“You should call your sister,” Hunter said, turning around. His face was grim.
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Well, number one: you need a place to sleep tonight. You can’t stay here. And number two: her husband’s the state’s attorney general. Maybe he could get some action on this. Damn, we should have mentioned that to the cops. They wouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss us, then, would they?”
“Let’s take number two, first,” Nora said. “Robert has far more important things to worry about than some kids breaking into my crummy apartment.”
“I’m not sure he’d see it that way. He’d want to protect his family.”
That would imply we were a family, which we’re not. “And,” she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted, “I would never, ever use a personal connection to get preferential treatment. I have no intention of telling Robert what happened tonight, which pretty much negates your number one.”
“I don’t get it. Someone broke into your apartment—invaded your home—and you’re being so calm and rational. Why aren’t you more upset?”
Good question. Nora didn’t know either. She had always heard how people felt personally violated in these situations, but she didn’t feel anything at all. She was numb. It was like a dream she couldn’t quite make sense of. Her whole evening had been surreal from the time she’d arrived at Prime.
She’d been flattered by the attention Karen’s jumpsuit had received. She’d known she looked good by the reactions of both Billy and Hunter, just as she’d known the two men had hated each other on sight.
She’d enjoyed their rivalry at first, humoring herself that it was her attention they were competing for. She knew the truth, though. All their posturing wasn’t for her—it was for each other. Two alphas in one ring—may the best man win.
She had been as impressed by Hunter’s composure following Billy’s comments about Rancho Tres Hermanos beef as she’d been appalled by the insensitivity of the man who’d made them. To Billy’s credit, though, he had immediately apologized to Nora, along with the remaining chefs, when she’d returned from trying to talk to Hunter—and he had been sincere.
Despite that, they’d both realized the evening was over and quickly finished their dessert, a fabulous black cherry and kirsch truffle cake that would have been delicious with coffee had they been prepared to linger.
Billy had insisted on accompanying her in the taxi to make certain she got home. Their conversation had returned to the report they were working on and the upcoming presentation to the senate committee. Excited by some of the ideas they had discussed, Nora had wanted to capture them while they were still fresh in her mind. She’d waited in the entrance of her building until she saw the taxi disappear up the street—she didn’t feel the need for any more Billy Bower this evening—and then had walked the four blocks to her office, where she’d left her computer and the notes for the report.
Exhilarated with the way the report was turning out, but bone-tired after last night’s sleeplessness, she hadn’t had the energy to worry why her neighbors were milling around the door to her apartment when she’d returned home.
Her home had been broken into and Hunter was standing in her small living room asking why she didn’t seem to care.
“What are you doing here?” Nora said.
“I was worried about you.”
“You were worried about someone you clearly hate?”
Hunter let out a long sigh and sat down on the couch. “Come. Sit.” He held out a hand to her.
She sank down into the brown- and black-checkered couch. It was ugly as sin—she had bought it cheaply from the previous tenants—but it was very comfortable. She leaned back and closed her eyes. In a second she’d be asleep.
She forced her eyes open. She didn’t have that luxury. There were still things that needed to be done.
Hunter was watching her. His face was guarded. “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry for what I said before. It wasn’t fair to take my annoyance with that Texas oaf out on you.”
“It wasn’t all your fault. I shouldn’t have brought him there, I should have insisted we go somewhere else. Billy shouldn’t have said those things, but—”
“Why did you bring him? Were you trying to get back at me for what I said last night?”
Nora felt her face glow warm. “Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But it was his suggestion to go to Prime, and I did try to talk him out of it.”
“You couldn’t have tried very hard.” Hunter’s expression had lightened and she could see that he was trying to stop himself from smiling.
“How can you say that? He’s stubborn, like you.”
“Yes, but I can tell you that after seeing how you look tonight, I’d be hard-pressed to deny you anything. You should have Karen pick out all your clothes.”
She couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing, but she felt her blush deepen and the warmth extend down into her abdomen.
“You don’t believe you can have that effect on men?” Hunter asked.
“No.”
“Then you weren’t paying attention. Pretty much every honest-to-goodness male in the restaurant couldn’t take his eyes off you tonight.”
“Okay, enough.” Nora hated that she couldn’t tell whether or not he was sincere. Yes, she knew she’d looked good tonight, but he was going overboard with his praise.
She didn’t want to believe he’d make fun of her like this, but she couldn’t accept what he was saying, either. “You’re evading my question. Why are you here?”
“I told you, I was worried about you.”
“So you came over here? Haven’t you heard of a telephone?”
>
“Yeah, and I tried yours several times, but it went straight to voice mail.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Nora rose to get her purse from where she’d dropped it during Hunter’s enthusiastic embrace. She stared at the lifeless cell phone. No battery. “I guess I forgot to charge it last night.”
“That doesn’t sound like you. Did you have something—or someone—else on your mind perhaps?” He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back, smiling broadly.
“Oh, shut up.”
He jumped to his feet and came to her, stopping only inches away. “Really, Nora. I am sorry for what I said, both last night and tonight. I was out of line both times, and I wanted to apologize. When you didn’t answer your phone, I started to worry so I came over.” His voice had turned serious and she had to strain to hear him whisper, “I’m glad I did.”
His lavender eyes held her gaze and she was unable to look away despite the discomfort of such potent sincerity. “So am I,” she whispered back.
His lips were firm and yet undemanding, as if they were holding open an invitation, a promise she had the power to either accept or reject. Only she didn’t feel powerful, she felt lightheaded. The warmth in her belly radiated out slowly, the heat between her thighs a precious agony. She stepped in closer and felt his arms wrap around her. She raised a hand to his head, unable to resist any longer the feel of the soft, silky spikes.
And then everything changed. He deepened the kiss and pulled her hips in closer, his arousal ground against her need. She gasped as his tongue found hers, stroking, playing, caressing. She could feel the splayed fingers of his hand digging into her bottom, urging her closer still. His other hand held her head, and refused to allow her to pull away. But she wasn’t trying to get away.
She didn’t want to move. He tasted of chocolate and mint, better than any decadent dessert she’d ever had. And his smell—never again would she smell cocoa and sandalwood and not think of him, think of this moment.
He lifted his head, but the emptiness she felt was fleeting. He found the tender pulse beneath her left ear and was gently caressing it with his lips. She closed her eyes and arched her head backward, marveling at the sensations and considering why she had never felt them before.
