* * *
Ellen, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her dress splattered with mascara, slumped in Libby's arms. "Can I stay here?"
"Of course, you can."
"You were right, Libby. You warned me not to go. But no, I had to see for myself. I had to have my face rubbed in it." She followed Libby inside and told her everything about discovering Mel with his latest fling.
Hearing this most recent story of betrayal, Libby was unfazed. All day long, an ominous feeling had haunted her, keeping her in a state of agitation.
She ran a lavender bath, lit a candle, and left Ellen in a steaming tub with a Hawaiian CD for background music. By the time Ellen wandered into the kitchen, snug in her bathrobe, dinner was on the table and the delicious smell of garlic and basil hung in the air.
Ellen pushed her pasta around the plate and made a few twirls. "I can't say I didn't have a clue. I just feel so stupid."
"You're not stupid, Ellen. You're a wife who loves her husband and wants to believe in him."
Ellen shrugged and laid the fork aside. "You know what? I can't get that picture out of my mind. Mel's tank of a body humping that skin-and-bones woman. I kept thinking he was going to grind her into bonemeal. That's what a sick mind I have."
Libby burst into laughter.
Ellen joined in until tears streamed down her cheeks and she slumped over her plate. "I don't understand myself. It's not like he's a huge prize with his fat belly and bald head." She sniffled and wiped away the tears. "But he's my fat man."
Libby walked around the table and squeezed Ellen's shoulders. "I'm here for you, Ellen. I'm not going anywhere."
* * *
CHAPTER 13
Instead of a quick nap, Kipp slept well into the evening; the jet lag had caught up with him. He called Tanya, expecting her message service to pick up, but he was surprised to hear the syrupy, Southern voice that used to melt him from the inside out.
"I thought you were in Paris," he said.
"Kipp, is that you, sweetie?"
"What are you doing in the city?"
"The shoot ended earlier than we thought. I got home late last night."
"I was going to leave you a message." Considering who he was dealing with, he had momentary thoughts about not confessing where he was. "I'm at LaGuardia."
"You're in town? Wonderful. I want to see you."
"We can talk on the phone. We really don't need to meet in person."
"Not when you're this close. Why are you here? Business?"
"Something like that."
"Where are you? At the airport? A hotel?"
"I'm at the Airport Marriott."
"I can catch a cab and be there in minutes."
"That's not a good idea. I just--"
"Wait for me." She ended the call.
As luck would have it, she had to be home. Since he was in the neighborhood, he supposed seeing her was the right thing to do. Determined to stay in control of the situation, he tucked the bear in his carry-on bag. If she saw it, she'd want it, even though she had all of Kelly's other toys.
Tanya had appeared to be so distraught after Kelly's disappearance he'd boxed up and given her everything. Keeping Kelly's belongings turned out to be Tanya's way of dealing with the guilt of being indifferent to her own child.
But he wanted the bear: his connection to his daughter and to Libby. When he explained everything to Tanya, he would skirt around the issue of the bear.
While he waited, he hung up his clothes and straightened the bedcovers. He hadn't eaten and could use going out to dinner as an excuse to talk to Tanya on neutral ground. After all this time, he still didn't trust himself with his incredibly sexy ex-wife.
Thirty minutes later he answered the door to her. He wasn't prepared for the blast of beauty that greeted him. He hadn't been this close to her in a very long time. Aging agreed with her, if judged by the modeling jobs that kept coming to her at a healthy pace. The world of fashion loved her.
She smiled the tempting smile that had captivated him the first time they met at a party given by one of his journalist friends. Her gold-spun hair, hugging porcelain skin, touched the top of her shoulders. Her hazel eyes, which changed to gray depending on the color of her mood, flashed behind lush black lashes.
He simply wasn't prepared for this.
She threw her arms around him, squeezing her body against his, and whispered in his ear, "Let's make love."
He felt a surge in his lower body, a rush he hadn't experienced since the car ride with Libby, but he peeled her arms away and backed into the room.
She took off a light jacket, revealing a form-fitting tank top tucked into tight white jeans. She kicked off her sandals, revealing her tiny narrow feet--the feet he so often rubbed warm on cold winter nights.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she patted the space next to her. Mesmerized, he sat down, his leg butting against hers.
"I've missed you, lover." She massaged his thigh, pressed the top of his knee and stopped at the crease in his slacks. "What did you want to talk about?"
Kipp lifted her hand off his leg and stood because it was the only way to break the spell of her touch. "I've decided to look for Kelly again. I mean, seriously looking."
"You're going to look for our daughter?" She stared at him, puzzled, letting the words sink in. "Where, how?"
Without thinking it through, he told her he'd gone to a psychic. "This person I went to has been successful in helping the police find missing children."
"A psychic? What a stupid thing to do."
"At first I didn't understand it myself."
"Then why would you even go to one?"
Tanya always had a way of making him question himself; she was good at it. The doubts started to creep in, but then he remembered the toy bear.
"What does that have to do with your being here?" she said.
"The psychic told me to go back to Old Town and see Mrs. Crowley."
"What for?"
"Just to talk to her."
"Did that make any difference?"
Not sure that it had and not wishing to reveal the part about the bear, he shook his head.
Tanya rose and embraced Kipp. "I love that you're going to look for Kelly, but don't waste your time with people who just take your money to tell you things you want to hear. Isn't there anything else you can do?"
Deflated, Kipp sat slumped on the side of the bed with his hands cushioned between his legs and withdrew into himself. Tanya leaned over and put her arms around his neck, her breasts fully in front of him.
"I should call you a cab before it gets too late," he said.
She sat beside him and ran her fingers up and down his arm. "I can't go home. I loaned my apartment to a friend for the night. I'll have to stay here with you, if you don't mind."
"Don't expect anything from me," he said, although the lemony scent of her perfume flooded him with memories of all the times they'd made love with that scent filling his nostrils.
She crawled on top of the comforter and asked him to join her. "Just hold me."
Arguing with her was pointless; she knew how to wear him down. But for some inexplicable reason, the thought of her body next to his comforted him.
She moved his glasses to the nightstand and made room for him to snuggle. As soon as he put his arm around her, she reached up and began stroking his hair the way she used to do when they were together.
The hypnotic rhythm of her touch and the gentle, feathery strokes soothed and relaxed him to the point of nodding off, but he woke, startled and somewhat disoriented, to a pull and a tug and found her naked, loosening his belt, her irresistible eyes pleading with him. How was he going to resist her and did he even want to?
She took advantage of his hesitation and leaned over to kiss him, and every inch of him longed to return the kiss. He longed to massage her breasts and the small of her back and her tiny round bottom. He longed to let down his defenses and open up to her, but instead he blocked the kiss
with a hand. He couldn't go there. The past still hurt.
Undaunted, she pushed up his shirt and ran her tongue through the reddish hairs on his chest down to the top of his slacks.
When she grasped his zipper, he gripped her wrists. "No, Tanya."
"I want to love you," she said. "Why can't I?" She sounded like the spoiled woman-child she was. She pulled free and made another attempt at the zipper.
"That's enough." He pushed her aside and swung his legs to the floor.
She draped her arms over his shoulders, pressed into his back, and nuzzled his ear. "I just want to love you."
"We're not going down that road again," he said. "I'll get you another room."
She let her arms fall away from him. "Never mind. I'll get a cab."
"Where will you go?"
"Home."
"What about your friend?"
"I lied." She climbed off the bed and picked up her clothes, her eyes clouded with tears.
He watched her dress, staring at the contours of her body. Because of her profession, she maintained slender hips and a tiny waist, but her breasts were full and round, bouncing with every movement. He ached to touch them. But he denied himself the pleasure.
She slipped on her jacket and found her purse on the floor. "Let me know what you find out about Kelly."
"I'm sorry, Tannie."
"I'm sorry, too. I just love you so much." She kissed him on the cheek and hurried from the room, her lemony fragrance lingering after her.
After so many betrayals those words meant nothing to him. He used to blame it on her age--twelve years younger than he--or their jobs. Being apart from one another had a definite impact on their relationship. There were too many temptations in a job like hers, too many photographers, too many admirers. He wouldn't go through it again.
He felt weak from dealing with her, but with the nap he'd taken, he feared another sleepless night. He dug through his bag and pulled out the bear. The reason he'd gone to Connecticut in the first place filtered back to him, and Libby came to mind. He reached for the phone and paused. Too drained for another conversation, he decided to wait and call her from home.
* * *
CHAPTER 14
Kipp's house had a heavy feel to it--hot and stuffy--and the smell of bacon lingered from two days ago. With his free hand he pushed open the kitchen window to let the air circulate.
He dropped his bag in the living room, opened the blinds. He'd had a layover in Denver, but due to the time change, it was relatively early. Exhausted from the long flight, he lay on the couch, and with the late afternoon sun flooding the windows and warming his body, he dozed off.
Upon waking, he thought of Libby. All the way across the country, he'd thought about her. He was anxious to call her, but first a soul-reviving shower was due.
Afterward, he slipped on a robe, rubbed his hair with a towel, and wandered into the kitchen to find Libby's number. He placed the call, but no one answered. He left a message.
He checked the messages on his answering machine and cringed when he heard his editor's voice because it reminded him of his lack of progress on the article. His distractions came out of the blue, and he'd have to beg for more time.
The second message was from Tanya. She told him she loved him and encouraged him to look for their daughter but with the caustic reminder that going to a psychic was as useless as seeking the answers from a magician.
Again, Tanya's remark brought up the doubts he'd had from the beginning about enlisting Libby's help, and he wondered if it was a stupid thing to do. Already his hopes were unrealistically high.
Annoyed and restless, he dressed and went to The Fish and Ale to get a bite to eat. The parking lot was full, normal for a Friday night. He tried to avoid the crowds by frequenting the establishment on weekdays, but being alone wasn't satisfying any longer, especially since he'd met Libby.
Even if the reasons for his attraction to this oddly unique individual were unclear, he was still drawn to her. Holding a woman, even if that woman was Tanya, had awakened the need for a woman's soft gentle touch. It brought back memories of the good times: snuggling by the fireplace, walking hand in hand in the park, making love on a rainy afternoon. Was he ready to begin anew with someone like Libby?
The last two years he'd had opportunities--a caterer he'd struck up a conversation with at The Fish and Ale, who slipped him her business card with her home phone number; a friend of his editor, a sleek-looking advertising executive, who reminded him too much of Tanya--but he never pursued them. The disappearance of his daughter had tied up his emotions. He'd had no room in his heart for anything, except the memory of his little girl.
Since he'd been around Libby, he was stirred up again in more ways than one. His emotions were somehow intertwined with both his daughter and Libby; he wanted his daughter back and he wanted Libby, the woman who held the keys to finding her. Maybe he needed to separate the two--keep to the business of finding Kelly--before he launched into something he might regret. It hit him then that even contemplating a relationship with Libby was a waste of time. She'd shown no interest in him.
Inside the pub, the Eagles thundered from the jukebox, all the pool tables were in use, and every table was filled. The cool, salty air drifted in from the opened door.
Kipp eyed an empty stool at the bar next to a brunette dressed in black jeans and a halter top. She smiled at him when he sat down. He waved Sam over and ordered a draft and a hamburger.
When Sam came back with the beer, he shouted over the music, "Didn't work out with that lady friend of yours?"
"Why do you assume that?"
"You're never here on Friday nights. I figured your coming here on a Friday night is serious. You either want to talk about it, or you want to get laid."
"You sure know how to dish it out." Kipp took a swig of beer.
"So, what's up?"
Being honest with Sam had always been easy because talking to him was like talking to a friend with nothing to lose. Sam had a good ear and never spread rumors. Kipp gave him a rundown of his trip to Connecticut--particularly the part about seeing his ex-wife, even embellishing on how hard it was to keep his hands off her.
"You want my opinion?" Before Sam could dish his advice, a man hollered from the other end of the bar, and he left to take the man's order.
Kipp drank more of his beer and reached for the pretzels in front of the brunette.
She shoved the basket his way. "I couldn't help overhearing you talk about some woman, like your ex-wife. Sounds interesting. I'm a good listener if you want to talk about it."
"I've probably talked enough, but thanks."
She swiveled her stool to face Kipp. "My name's Sherry. What's yours?"
"Kipp."
"Kim?" she yelled over the music.
"Kipp, with two p's."
"That's different. Would you like to play pool or something?"
"I just ordered a burger."
"After?"
"Maybe." Kipp noted how young and pretty she was. In the past that would have been an attractive combination, but now the temptation wasn't there.
Sam brought Kipp's meal. He'd just sunk his teeth into the first bite when a man in a cowboy hat and a plaid shirt stormed the bar and latched on to Sherry's wrist. "Come on, babe."
She wrenched free. "Forget it."
He grabbed for her again, but she leaned into Kipp, her hair grazing his face. He leaned away. The cowboy tossed Kipp a dirty look, his face aflame from anger and embarrassment. He tugged her hair hard. "I'll be back." He stomped out of the building.
She swiveled around and began chewing her nail.
"Can I help?" Kipp said.
Sam, who had witnessed the scene, came over to her. "You okay?"
She nodded, then shook her head, a tear finding its way down the side of her face.
"Guy's a jerk," Sam said. "If you want me to call you a cab, I will."
She shook her head again.
"Just let me know.
" Sam walked away to tend to another customer.
Kipp studied her profile. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two. She reminded him of Tanya in the beginning of their relationship: vulnerable, sweet, eliciting in him the need to protect. He felt the urge to reach out to this girl. "Can I give you a lift?"
She looked at him for the first time since the incident, her eyes brimmed with tears. Kipp paid the bill and told Sam he was taking her home. They walked out to the Jeep in the star-filled night.
"So, where's home?" Kipp said.
"I can't go there. He'll find me."
"Is there somewhere else I can take you? Your parents' house, a friend's?"
When she said no, the picture became very clear. He'd have to take her to his house, and he suddenly wished he hadn't offered to help. His life was complicated enough. All the way up the hill, he thought about what to do.
Once they were inside the house, she looked around the living room and ran a hand across the top of the TV. She seated herself on the couch, scanned the coffee table, and picked up one newsmagazine, then another, and tossed both aside, unsatisfied with the content. She said she was cold, so he gave her a blanket to wrap up in and made her a cup of hot chocolate.
He handed her the cup and stood nearby. "Is that guy your husband?"
"Boyfriend."
"Does he get rough with you often?"
"Yeah, I suppose. But he loves me. Even when he hits me, he always tells me he loves me."
Hearing her reply, Kipp knew what to do. He excused himself and thumbed through the community service pages of the phone book and dialed the local crisis clinic where he was given the number of a women's shelter. He made that call and returned to the living room.
She met him at the end of the couch. "Can I stay here with you?"
He wasn't sure how to interpret her meaning, but sleeping in the same bed with him was unacceptable, as was sleeping anywhere else in his house. Though he felt sorry for her, he wanted their involvement to end, as much as he'd wanted his and Tanya's to end. "I'm taking you to a shelter for the night. They'll help you figure things out."
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