After Dark

by Beverly Barton

  “And how many times has it been right between you and some woman?” Lane asked.

  He stared at her as if the answer to her question should be obvious. “It’s been good. It’s been fun. It’s been exciting. And it’s been satisfying. Every time I’ve taken a woman, I’ve enjoyed it.”

  Just as she had thought. Once a stud, always a stud. If she gave herself to him, she would risk everything because she would fall in love with him again. But for him, she would be just another easy lay. The thought of being one more notch on Johnny Mack Cahill’s bedpost didn’t appeal to her in the least.

  “I should go,” she said, but her feet wouldn’t cooperate, leaving her planted directly in front of the man from whom she wanted to escape.

  “Mm-mm.” He nodded.

  “Please, call me after you’ve spoken to Mr. Cortez.”

  He nodded again.

  She finally forced her legs into motion and headed for the exit. After opening the door, she halted, pivoted halfway around and said, “If you really want to be a father to Will, I’ll help you. It won’t be easy, and I can’t guarantee that he’ll ever accept you into his life; but he needs to know that a better man than Kent Graham is his father.”

  “Thanks, Lane.”

  “Don’t thank me. Not yet.” She managed to plaster a weak smile on her face. “And I’ll warn you now. If you ever hurt that boy, I’ll make you sorry you came back to Noble’s Crossing.”

  “Always the mama tiger protecting her cub,” Johnny Mack said.

  “Yes, I am. And if you’re thinking I killed Kent to protect Will, then you’re right to think that way. I would have killed Kent, but someone else beat me to it.”

  “I wish I had been the one. I wish I’d broken his damn neck a long time ago. Before he ever laid a hand on you.”

  She could no longer sustain the quavering smile or the false bravado. If she didn’t leave now, she would probably fall into a million shattered pieces right here in front of Johnny Mack. And like Humpty Dumpty, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put her back together again.

  “Call before you come by the house,” Lane said. “And I’ll make sure Will’s there.”

  Rushing outside, she didn’t realize Johnny Mack had followed her, not until she heard his footsteps. When she paused and glanced over her shoulder, he stopped and looked at her as if he had something to say.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Sex has been a lot of things for me, but it’s never been perfect. I’ve never thought to myself that this time she’s the right woman, the perfect woman for me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I just wanted you to know.” He turned and walked back into his motel room.

  When he closed the door, Lane took a deep breath and ran to her car. Don’t think about what he said, she warned herself. If you think you’re the woman with whom it could perfect, that you’re that one and only right woman for him, you’re fooling yourself. Having sex with Johnny Mack would be wrong. For you and for him.

  But, dear God, it would be good. So good.

  Johnny Mack eased back in the cushioned, wrought-iron chaise longue and looked over the rim of his sunglasses at his son horsing around on the far end of the pool with a couple of his buddies. George Markham III and Theodore “Ted” Upton IV. Both boys were sons of Magnolia Avenue parents. And Will was one of them, a blue blood through and through, despite his questionable lineage. Perhaps all that was required to be a blue blood was being raised as one of the privileged few.

  Back in the good old days when he had been the gardener’s assistant, he had listened to the squeals and giggles and hardy laughter coming from behind the fence that enclosed the pool area on the Noble estate. And he had wondered what it would be like to belong to Lane’s circle of friends, to have nothing more to do on a summer day than play around the pool.

  When he had first gone to work for Bill Noble, he’d been sixteen and seldom had more than pocket change, except when Wiley won big at cards, which wasn’t often. During that first summer, late in the day, when all the kids had gone home and the Nobles were eating dinner in their elegant dining room, he had slipped into the pool area and hoped Lillie Mae hadn’t gotten around to cleaning up yet. Sometimes he had found half a slice of a sandwich or an untouched cookie or some chips just lying on a plate. And there had usually been tea or cola in a glass, diluted in strength by melted ice cubes. He hadn’t considered it stealing to eat the leftovers that would have otherwise ended up in the trash. And he suspected that Lillie Mae had deliberately left the cleanup until after dark because she had known that without those meager crumbs, he would often as not have gone to bed hungry. And she had known just as surely that he would never have taken a handout from her.

  That had been twenty years and a lifetime of regrets ago. He reminded himself that he had left behind that wild, angry, young hellion the day he’d left Noble’s Crossing. The day he had told Lane that he couldn’t take her with him. But no matter how successful, how rich he became, a part of that hungry teenager still lived within him. A part of him was still hungry, still angry and still knew that he wasn’t good enough to kiss Lane Noble’s pretty little feet.

  Glancing down at the patio floor beside the chaise, he saw ten red toenails. Ten toes. Two size-six plastic pool sandals. As he lifted his gaze, a pair of shapely calves came into view. A red fishnet robe hit her midthigh, its open cutwork leaving little to the imagination. A form-fitting red swimsuit, with high-cut legs and low-cut back accentuated every curve of a well-proportioned hour-glass shape. Everything male within him reacted to the sight of delicious female flesh.

  Lane stood over him, a glass of iced tea in each hand. “I thought you might be thirsty. Lillie Mae made up a fresh pitcher of tea.”

  After pulling himself up into a sitting position, Johnny Mack straddled the middle of the chaise and reached out to take one of the glasses Lane held. “Thanks.”

  She nodded to the threesome frolicking in the pool. “Will seems to be enjoying himself. It’s the first time since Kent’s death that I’ve seen him genuinely smile.” Lane seated herself in a padded, wrought-iron chair stationed at the matching table over which a huge umbrella shaded a wide circle from the afternoon sun. “Is he still avoiding you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m sorry. I’d thought by now he would at least be speaking to you without my instigating the conversation.” Lane lifted the glass to her lips and sipped the cold tea.

  “He’s been doing a very good job of avoiding me, despite the fact that I’ve been around every day for nearly a week now. He’s damned determined to pretend I don’t exist.”

  “I warned you that winning him over wouldn’t be easy.”

  Lane set her glass on the table and picked up a bottle of sun block. After squirting a small amount into her hand, she dotted some on her nose and rubbed it in. Johnny Mack noticed that her nose and her shoulders still freckled when the rest of her tanned nicely. In so many ways she was still that sweet little girl who, like her father, had been kind to him. But in other ways, she had become a woman he didn’t know. Was that how she thought of him, as an old friend who had become a stranger?

  “After this coming weekend, he’ll be back in school,” Lane said. “I dread to think about what some of the kids might say to him. After all, his father was murdered three weeks ago and there’s a good chance his mother may be arrested for the crime.”

  “He’s tough. He can handle a few smart-ass remarks.” Johnny Mack gulped down half a glass of tea, then placed his glass beside Lane’s on the table.

  “I’m worried that he might handle himself the way you used to do and wind up getting into fights.” Lane sighed. “I’ve even thought about sending him away to school, but I honestly don’t think he’d go. He wouldn’t want to leave me. And to be honest, I can’t bear the thought of being separated from him. If I’m convicted of killing Kent and am sent to prison, I don’t—”

  “Quinn
has told you that even if you’re indicted, it’s highly unlikely you’ll be convicted of anything, not even manslaughter.” Johnny Mack leaned back in the chaise and stretched out his legs. “The police don’t have enough evidence. And what they do have is circumstantial. Besides, if the grand jury is fool enough to indict you, we’ll just follow through and find out who really killed Kent. The PI I have on retainer arrived in Noble’s Crossing four days ago, and he’s doing the police’s job by searching for other suspects. If there’s anyone with a motive, who had the opportunity to kill Kent, Wyatt Foster will unearth them.”

  “You’re spending a fortune on trying to prove my innocence.”

  He could tell, even though sunshades protected her eyes, that she was looking directly at him. Her body leaned, ever so slightly, in his direction.

  “I have a fortune to spend,” he said.

  “So you do.” Lane sighed deeply. “I don’t think either of us ever thought the day would come when I’d be a charity case and you’d be my benefactor.”

  Before he could reply, she got up, shed her see-through robe and ran to the edge of the pool. Just watching the way she moved—the sway of her round hips, the fullness of her bouncing breasts, the curve of her slender waist—aroused him painfully. Spending hours each day with her had become torture. She was the only woman in his entire life he had ever wanted desperately and not had. In his youth, he had appeased his desire with other women. With lots of other women. But even then, sex with another woman hadn’t diminished his desire for Lane. And now, when he hadn’t been with another woman since arriving in Noble’s Crossing, finding a way to persuade Lane to become his lover had reached the point of obsession.

  Were her breasts as round and full as they appeared to be? Would her nipples be large and dark or small and pink? Was the hair between her legs thick? Curly? Would he be able to bring her to a climax with the touch of his fingers, the attention of his mouth? When she came, would she scream or whimper? Would she cry out his name or moan softly?

  “Miss Lane, there’s a call for you.” Lillie Mae entered the patio through the kitchen door, halting Lane just as she started to dive into the pool.

  “Who is it?”

  Lillie Mae handed Lane the portable phone and waited, a worried look in her weary gray eyes. “It’s James Ware.”

  Johnny Mack shot up off the chaise, and by the time Lane held the phone to her ear, he stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. She quivered, a barely discernible shudder rippling through her body.

  “Hello, James.”

  Johnny Mack leaned closer, inclining his head so that when she held the telephone a fraction away from her ear, he was able to hear James’s part of the conversation.

  “Lane, I wanted to warn you,” James said. “The grand jury’s handed down an indictment against you for felony murder. Now’s the time for that damn good lawyer your friend hired to take over from me. Buddy will be there to arrest you this afternoon.”

  “Yes, I understand. Thank you, James.”

  “I’m as sorry as I can be about this. I don’t think you killed Kent, but…as you well know, nobody around here listens to me. I wish I could do something to help you. I wish…hell, I wish I wasn’t scared shitless of my wife.”

  “It’s all right. I appreciate your forewarning me.”

  Johnny Mack took the phone from her and tossed it onto the chaise longue. Lane swayed ever so slightly. Without a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her waist to lend her support.

  “What was he forewarning you about?” Lillie Mae asked.

  “The grand jury has indicted me for Kent’s murder.”

  Will pulled himself out of the pool and wrapped a towel around his shoulders. “What’s going on?”

  Lane clung to Johnny Mack. “Will’s going to be so upset by this.”

  “Dammit, woman, for once, think of yourself,” Johnny Mack told her.

  “Mama?” Will halted several feet away, his gaze riveted to Johnny Mack’s arm around Lane’s waist.

  “The grand jury has indicted your mother,” Johnny Mack said. “She needs all of us to stay calm and focused on getting her out of this mess. She needs you to act like a man now, Will, and not some whiny kid. Can you do that? Can you be the man your mother has raised you to be?”

  Chapter 14

  Glenn Manis swigged on a can of Miller Lite as he ground his wide behind into the old recliner. Grabbing the TV remote control, he belched loudly. While he flipped through the stations, searching for an interesting sporting event or a show about hunting or fishing, he occasionally glanced back over his shoulder to see if Jackie had finished up in the bathroom. She had left the door partially open, so he could see a glimpse of the shower. Jackie liked to pretend she was sexy and that giving him a peek at her naked body emerging from her bath drove him wild. Her skinny body didn’t exactly drive him crazy, but what she could do with her talented mouth sure as hell did.

  He had been dating Jackie for a year now, and sometimes he thought about asking her to marry him. After all, neither of them were getting any younger, and if he hadn’t done any better than Jackie by now, the odds were that he never would. Besides, he’d rather have a skinny, ugly wife who was good in bed than a better looking one who was as cold as ice.

  Jackie was no prize. But then neither was he. In school he had been the dumpy, goofy geek who couldn’t get a date. And Jackie had been the bug-eyed, bean pole white trash girl who no man would look at twice. But by the time she was sixteen, she had figured out a way to gain male attention. She bleached her hair, started stuffing her bra, stopped wearing panties and started putting out. And every guy in town soon learned where to go to get a top-notch blow job.

  Back then, he hadn’t been romantically interested in Jackie. The girl he had tried his damnedest to make notice him had been Sharon Hickman. Now, there had been a looker, with big tits, a sweet ass and a face like a movie star’s. And he had heard there wasn’t nothing Sharon wouldn’t do in the sack. But except for Johnny Mack Cahill, who had dipped his quill in just about every inkwell in town, the only guys Sharon paid attention to were the boys from Rich Man’s Land.

  Of course, the girl he had dreamed about, fantasied about throughout his teenage years, had been one of the most unattainable girls in town. Mary Martha Graham. The angel. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful girl in his life. Not even Sharon Hickman. But as far as he knew, the only guy Mary Martha had ever dated was Buddy Lawler.

  Suddenly the words of a TV news reporter brought Glenn back into the present. He jerked straight up and turned up the sound. Had he heard right? Good God almighty! The whole town had been waiting for the news and now it was official.

  “This afternoon Police Chief Buddy Lawler arrested Lane Noble Graham for the murder of her ex-husband, local businessman Kent Graham.” The reporter continued speaking while the station played a videotape showing Lane, shackled in handcuffs, being brought into the police station. Buddy had his hand on her arm, guiding her through the crowd. Behind her, two tall, dark-haired men kept pace, as if they were guarding Lane.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Glenn said. “That there’s Johnny Mack Cahill himself. Looks like what folks have been saying is true. He’s back in Noble’s Crossing to stay.”

  When the videotape ended as Lane disappeared inside the police station, the reporter continued his coverage of the biggest scandal to hit Noble’s Crossing in the past fifty years.

  “Representing Ms. Graham is renowned trial lawyer, Quinn Cortez, whom our sources say flew in from Houston, via private plane, this afternoon. As most of you will recall, Mr. Cortez made a name for himself six years ago, when as a young lawyer only a year out of law school, he was chosen by the Latin singer, Paco Urbano, to defend him in the sensational murder trial of his live-in girlfriend. Despite all the evidence against Urbano, Cortez was able to persuade the jury that the Hispanic heart-throb was innocent. Mr. Cortez has become famous—or in some opinions, infamous—for having n
ever lost a case.

  “And as to the other man seen with Ms. Graham—that’s former Noble’s Crossing resident Johnny Mack Cahill. Our sister CBS station in Houston tells us that Cahill is now a multimillionaire entrepreneur, well known in Houston’s social circles as a generous philanthropist as well as a business shark, who possesses the Midas touch.

  “What is Cahill’s connection to the Graham murder case, you might ask? Noble’s Crossing residents who knew Cahill as a young man say a better question to ask is what is Cahill’s connection to Ms. Graham and just how personal is their relationship?”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Glenn repeated. “Ain’t this a kick in the butt. The press is gonna have a field day with this one.”

  “What are you mumbling about out there?” Jackie, wearing nothing but a towel, stood in the bathroom doorway, one hand on the door facing and the other on her scrawny hip.

  “Come here, honey pie.” Glenn motioned with his flabby arm. “You’re not gonna believe this. They just arrested Lane for Kent’s murder and—”

  “That’s not news. The whole town’s been expecting as much ever since Wes Stevens sent the evidence to a grand jury.” Jackie sashayed into the living room, a come-hither smile on her face. “Folks are laying odds against her, you know. They think that whether or not she killed Kent, she’ll be convicted. Seems Miss Edith wants to see her go down.”

  “Well, Miss Edith just might not get what she wants this time.”

  “What makes you say that?” Jackie plopped down in Glenn’s lap and wrapped her arm around his thick neck.

  Glenn readjusted his body in the brown vinyl chair, enough so that he could place Jackie’s ass directly over his dick. Maybe if she would squirm around a bit, he’d get hard. And if that didn’t work, he would just let her talented fingers put him in the mood.