All a Man Can Do

by Virginia Kantra

  "But Marie didn't do it."

  "I haven't proved that."

  "You will," Tess said. "When the blood tests come in."

  "You have that much faith in him." His voice was flat.

  "I have that much faith in both of you. You'll find the person who did this, Jarek. And you'll stop him."

  He met her eyes, and something deep and decent flowed between them. A question asked. A reassurance given. Tess felt the warmth of it well in her chest, saw it surge in his eyes.

  "Maybe," he said, still holding her gaze. "Thanks."

  And even though Tess knew it was a mistake, even though she knew it was an illusion—she couldn't give him what he wanted, she'd never been able to give anyone what they wanted or needed. She hadn't stopped her father from leaving or her mother from drinking or her brother from getting into trouble. Anyway, even though she knew all that, that look made her feel mighty good.

  Jarek exhaled and looked away, breaking the link. Leaving her shaken and aching with possibility.

  "I just need to focus on the right connection," he said with an edge of frustration. "There is one. Two of the three attempts occurred after the women left the Blue Moon. Two of the targets worked at the hospital. And both Carolyn Logan and Sherry Biddleman described a dark, unmarked car with police-style lights."

  Tess tried to gather her thoughts back from places they had no business wandering. Jarek didn't need her stupid daydreams. He needed her knowledge of the town. "Could it be a police connection?"

  "We've been over this. God knows I've been over it. I'm tracking down every man in town with any connection to the police or the fire department or emergency rescue. I checked out every officer's alibi for the night Biddleman was stopped. And I'm going back over every one of them now. Particularly Sweet's."

  "Because he groped me sixteen years ago?"

  "Because he's a pervert and a predator. Yes."

  A part of Tess wanted Sweet—the man who had shamed and scared and scarred her—to be guilty of the assaults, too. But Jarek had told her he prized her ability to tell the truth. So she said, honestly, "A pervert maybe. But not a violent one. Whoever attacked Carolyn and killed Judy was angry. I don't think Bud Sweet is capable of hiding that kind of rage all this time."

  Reluctantly Jarek nodded. "Rape is usually about anger. Or power. I'm betting our guy feels threatened in some way, and the rapes are his attempt to re-establish control. Over his victims and over his own life."

  As the child of alcoholics, Tess understood the longing for control. There were years of her childhood when the safest way to handle emotions was not to acknowledge them and the only good memories were repressed ones. Still, the idea that someone was out there managing his emotions by attacking, degrading and killing women gave her the creeps. She thought of the way their neighbors had turned on Mark, their friendliness a mask for violence, and shivered.

  Jarek's gaze sharpened. "Cold?"

  "No. Scared," she said without thinking.

  Worried about the attacks.

  Afraid for her brother.

  And terrified that the protective skin she'd grown over her emotions was about to be stripped away. Because she wasn't in control anymore. Jarek Denko had wrested control from her. And taken her heart.

  He shifted the laptop to the floor and stretched his arm to her. The yellow lamplight slid over the well-defined muscles of his arm and exaggerated the harsh planes of his face. She trembled with lust and longing and fear.

  "Come here."

  Bad idea, she thought.

  I know what I'm feeling, she'd boasted to him a few hours ago. I know what I want.

  Only the more she was with him, the more she wanted. How much longer until she wanted it all, and Jarek decided he didn't have any more to give?

  Her mouth was dry. Her entire life, Tess had been the one who gave—to her mother, to her brother, to her job. There was power in that, in being the one who was needed.

  Now the power was on Jarek's side, and she was afraid.

  "I should let you get back to work," she said.

  "I'd rather take you back to bed."

  Desire jolted her heartbeat. But she shook her head, held back by her fear and her pride. "That's okay. You don't have to."

  His eyes narrowed. "Don't have to?" he repeated carefully.

  "I just meant—" He looked dangerous, she thought. What had she said to upset him? "You're probably tired, so—"

  "I'm not tired."

  "Sure, you are," she said, pulling his shirt more tightly around her. The edges of the packet bit into her palm. Why didn't he let her go with her excuse and her dignity intact? He was the one who couldn't wait to hop out of bed with her, wasn't he? "We both are. It's been a long day, and—"

  "I'm not too tired to make love to you, Tess."

  A thrill ran through her. Her body sent up another chorus of tweaks and twinges, reminding her how good it had been. How good he had been.

  And yet Jarek, she thought resentfully, was as cool and unruffled as lake water. His voice was patient. His eyes were steady. Only a muscle jerking at the side of his jaw indicated that they were discussing anything more significant than where to go for dinner or whose turn it was to take out the garbage.

  "Thanks," she said, backing toward the hall. "But I've changed my mind."

  He moved so fast she didn't have time to evade him. One hand wrapped her waist and pressed her to his hard, half naked body. The other caught her chin.

  "Let's see if I can change it back for you," he said, an edge to his voice. And his mouth swooped down on hers.

  He was anything but cold now. He was hot and hungry. Provoked.

  She'd intended to provoke him, she realized, as his hands took, as his mouth plundered. She wanted to shake his calm control, to make him as needy as she was.

  Even if it was only for sex.

  But even as that thought arrowed through her brain and quivered in her heart, her body responded to his. Now that it knew what he could do for her, it was already melting, tightening, adjusting to his. She felt him harden against her, and her thighs loosened. Her pelvis tilted, seeking more. The kiss of his body hair, the smell of his skin… They overwhelmed her, tastes, textures, sensations, sliding over her, bursting through her.

  When he reached between the panels of his shirt and cupped her, she was wet and ready for him. He groaned in satisfaction. She quaked with need.

  "I want—" She moaned as he touched her. "I need—"

  He gave. His zipper rasped. She tugged his jeans down, her hands frantic. He took the condom from her as her fingers flexed, as she felt the lovely muscle of his buttocks bunch under her touch.

  Elastic cut into her hip as he wrapped his hands in the skimpy red strip and ripped it off her. She cried out in protest and excitement. He transferred his grip to her buttocks and lifted her, backed her against his living-room wall. When the cool plaster hit her back, she jarred in shock. And then she felt him, thick and hot and seeking at her body's entrance, and softened in surrender. She would give him…anything. Whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't stop.

  She braced on his shoulders, wrapped her thighs around his waist, and felt him come into her. He possessed her. Impaled her. And there was nothing she could do, no way to hold back her body or her rioting emotions. He completely supported her, touched every part of her. Every movement drove him deeper. His legs were rock solid. His breathing was harsh and shallow. His arms trembled.

  His hands gripped her hips, lifting, pulling. Her body bowed as he thrust into her, harder, faster, demanding. She throbbed around him as he pounded into her, strength to strength, need to need, matched. Mated.

  He kissed her, licking into her mouth, while his fingers pressed tight on her behind, and his body rubbed warm and rough against her front. He was hot and solid, and he filled her again and again. His breath was hot on her face, in her ear. He said, "Come on," tightly, impatiently, and then he groaned her name, "Tess," and then he said, "Now."


  At his command, she shattered, and he erupted.

  It was hard to regret head-banging, mind-blowing, heart-stopping sex, but Jarek was giving it a shot.

  He set the drugstore bag next to the full mug of coffee on the nightstand and turned to see if the soft crinkle had disturbed Tess. She stirred and sighed, but she didn't wake up.

  She was so damn beautiful. And she looked really good in his bed, her full, soft mouth relaxed in sleep, her dark hair tangled on his pillow, her arms faintly golden against his sheets. She looked like a princess in some fairy tale.

  Yeah, and he was the overage, oversexed caveman faced with convincing her he could replace Prince Charming.

  Jarek shoved his hands into his pockets. "Tess?"

  Her shoulder hunched. Her lashes fluttered and lifted. Just for a second, before thought and caution woke, he imagined the sun shone in her eyes. And then she raised a hand and covered her face.

  "Oh, God. Do I smell coffee?"

  "Yeah. I brought you a cup. On the nightstand."

  She hugged the sheet to her breasts and reached. He could see the outline of her nipples, the curve of her hip, and his body, which was forty years old and ought to know better, reacted hotly and instantly.

  "How did you sleep?" he asked like a polite host instead of the Neanderthal who had ripped her underwear last night.

  She cradled her mug in both hands. "Fine, thank you," she said, just as politely. Was it the steam that brought that faint, irresistible flush to her cheeks?

  "I brought you some other things, too. In the bag."

  She looked doubtful, but she put down the cup and anchored the sheet in place with her arms to take the bag.

  "A toothbrush." She smiled. Jarek felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. "And…lotion?"

  "I don't know what you like. My sister uses that stuff."

  "It's very nice." Tess put the bottle on top of the sheet next to the cellophane wrapped toothbrush. "And what is—" Her voice flattened. "Underwear."

  Jarek's jaw set. He'd wanted to buy her something special to replace the stuff he'd torn. Wanted to buy it someplace special—Marshall Fields, maybe, or even Victoria's Secret—to atone for his lack of finesse. But at seven o'clock on a rainy Tuesday morning, he'd had to settle for the discount drug chain on Highway 12, where his options were limited to skimpy nylon knockoffs and oversized cotton numbers that looked like something Baba, his grandmother, would wear.

  In the end, remembering the mind-boggling, fantasy-inspiring red thong, he'd gone for one of the skimpy knockoffs.

  Mistake, he thought now, looking at her stunned face. The purple lace panties dangled from her hand. She thought they were sleazy. Hell, they were sleazy.

  "They're very…bright." Her mouth quivered. Oh, God, she wasn't going to cry, was she?

  "I had to get you something." He took his hands out of his pockets and then jammed them back in. He didn't trust himself with all that golden skin so temptingly close.

  She raised an eyebrow. "Trying to buy my silence?"

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "You don't need to bribe me. I'm not going to go home and write 'Police Chief Beds Murder Suspect's Sister' for the Gazette."

  His jaw set. He didn't think he deserved that. "Listen, I don't care who knows I took you to bed. Write us up for the damn paper. Take out an ad. Send in an engagement announcement, if you want."

  She winced and studied her nails. "That seems an equally extreme and unnecessary response. I'm a big girl, Jarek. I don't expect things—I don't expect you to buy me gifts just because you—just because we slept together one time."

  Bribes, she called them. Gifts. Like no one ever bought her anything before.

  And maybe no one had.

  Maybe that was her problem, Jarek realized. She didn't expect anything from anyone.

  Or maybe it was his problem now.

  Slept together one time? he thought Get used to it, honey.

  Frustration roughened his voice. "Damn it, Tess, it's no big deal. I wanted to do something for you, that's all."

  Her wide gold eyes were serious and uncertain. They tore his heart "That's it?"

  "That's it." If he left out a couple of little facts. Like he was falling in love with her. "Well, and I never ripped off a woman's clothing before."

  She grinned, as if his discomfort gave her confidence. "Never?"

  "You're the first."

  "Thank you." She touched his wrist lightly with her red-tipped fingers. "I think I like that. Being your first."

  She could be his last, he thought, if she wanted. He covered her hand with his as he bent to kiss her. She could be his one and only.

  But if Tess couldn't accept a pair of cheap panties from him, she sure as hell wasn't ready for a proposal of marriage.

  He had to go slow, Jarek thought, even as her lips warmed and parted under his and his blood hammered in his ears. He had to stay in control. Protect Tess. Clear Mark. Do his job.

  "I've got to get to work," he said, straightening up, away from temptation.

  Tess drew back, her hands tightening on the sheet. "I'll get out of your hair, then."

  He knew her well enough now to hear the hurt under the careless tone.

  "No," he said. "Take your time. Take a shower." He liked that, liked imagining her wet and naked in his bathroom. "Take the day off, if you want. I'll be home by six. Seven," he amended.

  "Tess!" She heard the dead bolt lock snick back. The door to the Blue Moon opened, and Tim Brown stood framed in the dark entrance. "I didn't expect to see you this morning."

  She smiled apologetically from the stoop, hugging her arms against the chilly lake breeze. "Hi, Tim. Got a minute?"

  "For you, sure. You taking the day off?"

  Take the day off, if you want. I'll be home by six. Seven.

  She was not waiting around on the fringes of Jarek's life until he had time for her. She had her own job to do, her own family to take care of. She was on her way to the hospital now.

  But she smiled at Tim and said, "Sort of."

  "Must run in the family. I don't want to tell tales, but your brother never showed up for work last night."

  She fingered her purse strap. "I know. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

  Tim frowned, but swung the door wider. "Coffee?"

  She'd had coffee. Jarek's coffee. The memory and the caffeine churned in her stomach and thrummed in her blood "I don't need anything. Thanks."

  "Orange juice?"

  Why was everyone suddenly so determined to offer her things? Coffee. Orange juice. Underwear.

  Oh, boy. Tess took a deep breath, trying not to think about the unfamiliar purple panties hugging her rear end. "Orange juice would be fine."

  "You got it," Tim said. "Come on in."

  Their footsteps echoed on the plank floor as he led the way to the main room. The blinds were still closed, the chairs still up on the empty tables. Tim slipped behind the bar, where a big stuffed fish—a pike—leered over the rows of polished glasses. When he reached for one, his sleeve pulled back, and Tess could see a long red scratch on his arm.

  She slid onto a stool and propped her elbows on the bar. "Ouch. Hurt yourself?"

  "What? Oh." He glanced at his wrist "Cut myself in the kitchen. It's nothing." He tugged his sleeve down and whisked the orange juice out of the bar refrigerator. "So, what's up with Mark?"

  She watched him splash juice over ice. If she concentrated really hard, she could get through this conversation without breaking down into tears. Without screaming accusations against their neighbors. "Mark won't be in to work today. In fact, he won't be able to come in for a while."

  Tim set the glass on a napkin and nudged it toward her. "Is he sick?"

  She toyed with the edge of the napkin. "He's in the hospital, Tim."

  "My God." He looked shaken. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

  Tess appreciated his sympathy. But then, Tim had always been willing to give Mark a ch
ance. She liked to imagine his friendliness stemmed from genuine liking, and not just because her brother was good at quelling the drunks on a Saturday night.

  "Mark got beat up last night. By a bunch of drunken yahoos who thought he was responsible for the attack on Judy Scott."

  "I can't believe it. Mark?"

  She nodded. "It took six of them, but…" Her voice trailed off.

  "That's terrible. Is he going to be all right?"

  She was grateful his first question was about Mark's health and not his guilt. "I think so. I'm on my way to see him now, actually. They took the chest tube out this morning."

  "Well, that's good," Tim said. "So he'll recover?"

  "Physically? Yes. But emotionally…" Her throat closed. She forced a sip of orange juice. "I just can't get past the idea that people I thought I knew could do something like this. I feel like I can't trust our neighbors anymore. I don't trust my own judgment. What will happen when Mark's released from the hospital?"

  "Well, you know he always has a job here." Tim rubbed a rag over the polished surface of the bar. "Do they still think he did it?"

  Tess held the cold glass to her hot forehead. "I don't know what people think anymore. I'm just hoping the blood test will prove he's innocent."

  The rag paused in its circles. "What blood test?"

  "The police collected blood from under Judy Scott's fingernails. If Mark's not a match, that would rule him out as a suspect."

  "Gee, I didn't know that. So, everything's going to be all right" Tim smiled. "Isn't it lucky you have an in with the police."

  Jarek leaned back in his chair, adjusting the phone under his jaw. He'd spent the last several hours alone in his office, shuffling and arranging his facts like cards in a mental game of solitaire: red on black in changing sequences, trying to line up the evidence in just the right order to solve the puzzle and win the game.

  Now he jotted another note and asked Aleksy, "He retired in '96? You sure he wasn't fired?"

  "Nope. But here's where it gets interesting." Even through the telephone line, Jarek could feel his brother's excitement. "You told me to ask around. So, two months before the retirement went through, guess whose ex-wife's house burned down under questionable circumstances?"