“No, but it makes sense she would be since she’s always putting on fetes to raise money for her husband’s senate bid next year.”
Nodding, Gwen said, “She said she found a throwaway cell phone on her husband’s desk. When she looked at the number of the person he was calling, she didn’t recognize it, so she wrote it down. Then, as she does with all donors, she did a background check. Senator Peyton has to be careful who donates. He can’t have criminals or other bad elements donating money to his campaign. It wouldn’t look good for him. Clarissa is the clearinghouse for all of that stuff.”
“Okay,” Casey said, not sure where this information was going.
“She goes to a special internet site where she does criminal background checks. Anyway,” Gwen said, “when she typed in the cell phone number, this guy’s name came up. She didn’t recognize him at all. So, she went and put his name in the background check.” Her mouth flattened. “The guy’s name is Frank Benson. And he’s been in and out of prison so many times it makes my head spin.”
“I’m sure Clarissa took him off the donor list?”
“Well, see,” Gwen said, “this is the funny thing. He’s not on the senator’s donation list. And it was Carter who made the call to this dude with a criminal record.”
“I’m sure the senator deals with all kinds of people in his line of work,” Casey said. She saw nothing out of line with that. Frequently, senators and congress people were called to help a prisoner who felt they were in prison and innocent.
“Well,” Gwen said, wrinkling her nose, “I agree with you.”
“So, what is out of place about this?”
Shrugging, Gwen said, “Nothing, really. But the day Clarissa came in to tell me about it was the same day this guy showed up asking about you.”
“Well, you have his name. Can Cade run a check on him?”
“That’s what he’s doing today. I want to see the guy’s face. Cade’s supposed to bring me over a photo and I’m going to show it to Donna to see if it’s the same guy.” Tapping Casey’s shoulder Gwen said grimly, “And if it is, then we all need to worry. Because Benson is a murderer, Casey. He’s been out of prison for three years and has been keeping a low profile.”
“But I don’t understand,” Casey said, slightly exasperated by Gwen’s logic. “What would the senator, I and this criminal all have in common that I should be worried about?” Fear niggled at her and she tried to ignore the hammering of her heart. What if this man had been stalking her and she didn’t know about it until now? Casey tried to reassure herself that it was her vivid imagination at work. Still, the fear crawled up in her throat, and she felt as though she would strangle to death. Gulping several times, she touched her neck with her fingers as if to make the fear go away.
“That’s the question,” Gwen said. She looked around the corner at her store. “Listen, I have to get back to the counter.” She patted her arm. “I just want you to stay alert. When Cade gives me that photo and if Donna confirms it was the guy, then I’m calling you. Because, that means something is going on…”
“Do you think he might be the shooter from this past spring?” Casey wondered. Her mind whirled with questions that had no answers. If this man was hunting her, why was he doing it? She was a nobody. Unimportant in the greater scheme of things. None of it made sense to Casey but it left her feeling frightened.
“That’s what I’m thinking.” Gwen tapped her head. “Of course, it’s only a thread in this thing. Gotta wait to see which way the fabric goes.” She smiled a little. “Until then, just stay alert. Okay?”
“Okay,” Casey murmured, “thanks.” She glanced at her watch. Matt’s sister, Jessie, was due to go on nursing duty in an hour at the hospital. Every once in a while, on Casey’s day off, if Matt needed a babysitter, he would ask her to pinch-hit for Jessie. Casey was glad to do it.
“HEY,” JESSIE GREETED her brightly after opening the door to her brother’s home to Casey, “thanks for spelling me.”
Casey came in and smiled at the five-foot-six-inch tall woman with red hair, blue eyes and freckles across her cheeks. “Anything I need to know before you go, Jessie?” She could almost be Matt’s fraternal twin, they looked so much alike. Only, Jessie was curvy and looked nice in her nurse’s uniform—a dark green smock and white slacks. She already had her gear parked by the door.
Jessie looked around the quiet home. “No. Megan will be dropped off down the street as usual. I know you’ll be meeting her.” Jessie pushed her fingers through the curly red hair that she’d tamed into a ponytail. She worked in the maternity ward and loved babies. “And it’s three o’clock. Matt will be home at six.” She smiled a little as she pulled the strap of her leather purse across her shoulder and picked up a briefcase. “I made Matt his favorite meal—tuna and noodles.”
“Ohh,” Casey said, shutting the door, “he’ll like that and so will Megan.”
Nodding, Jessie said, “My older brother is so spoiled by me.” She chuckled. “Thanks for picking up the slack here. I don’t know what we’d do without you. The woman who used to babysit at these times moved away and it really left Matt without anyone.”
“No problem,” Casey murmured. She placed the keys to his house on a foyer desk.
Glancing at her watch, Jessie said, “Gotta run!” Giving Casey a quick hug, she opened the door and left.
There was soft music playing in the background. Elevator music and Casey didn’t particularly like it, but Megan and Matt did. She preferred passionate jazz instead. The kitchen was spotless—Jessie did a lot of housecleaning for her brother when she was here. Peeking inside the fridge she saw the huge casserole with foil on top of it ready to be popped into the oven an hour before Matt’s arrival home.
Turning, Casey walked to the door and locked it behind her. Megan’s school bus would drop her off at the corner in about five minutes. Casey always made a point of being there to greet the girl. She recalled that, as she was growing up, “stranger-danger” was being taught to children. As she walked down the tree-lined sidewalk, the leaves colorful against the pale blue sky, Casey lamented how the world had changed. It used to be children were safe, but no more.
As she stood on the corner, Casey could see the yellow bus slowly coming down the main avenue toward them. Absorbing the warmth of the fall sun, Casey knew that hiking days would be over soon. Wyoming always got heavy snows beginning in October. Maybe she, Megan and Matt could go on a picnic-lunch hike to a beautiful little meadow off Moose Road before that happened.
Hands on her hips, Casey smiled to herself. Tonight, she would share the evening with Matt. It didn’t happen often and Casey looked forward to those unexpected times. Since being on the adaptogen to work with her cortisol levels she was discovering that she no longer felt threatened or worried by the world around her. No, if anything, this medicine was allowing her to transcend the PTSD symptoms, and she found her heart focused on Matt. And on a possible relationship with him…
CASEY WAS DRYING THE DISHES as Matt sauntered into the kitchen. He’d just put Megan to bed after her bath. The evening had been wonderful for Casey. Glancing over her shoulder she couldn’t shake how powerful, how sexy and desirable Matt was to her. It was as if someone had miraculously lifted off blinders she’d been wearing. Of course, he looked incredible in his navy T-shirt emblazoned with the fire department insignia, too.
Casey was about to say something when the wineglass she was drying slipped.
“Oh!” she cried, trying to catch it. The glass shattered on the pine floor, pieces flying in all directions. Without thinking, she crouched down and picked up the largest pieces. Instantly, her finger was sliced open, blood purling up and then running down her hand.
“Casey?” Matt saw what happened. Leaning down, he captured her hand. “Are you okay?”
Grimacing, Casey muttered, “That was stupid, wasn’t it?” His hand was warm and she could feel the roughness of his fingers as he gently examined the sliced finger.
> “Come on,” he urged, helping her stand, “let’s go to the bathroom. I’ll wash it out, put some antiseptic on it and bandage it up.”
Casey didn’t fight him. Feeling rather embarrassed, she walked with him to the large master bath room. He placed her hand in the sink where the blood dripped and left a thin red stream in its wake. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“No,” he reassured Casey, opening the medicine cabinet, “you won’t need stitches.” Matt met and held her gaze. Casey was clearly upset about breaking the glass. He liked the intimacy it had created. All night, Matt had tried to tame his need of her. Every time he watched her eat across the table, his eye settled on her lovely, soft mouth. He’d lost count of how many times he’d wanted to kiss her. “And hey, it’s only a cheap wineglass. No big deal. It isn’t like they’re heirlooms.” He pulled down the box of Band-Aids.
“I was always a klutz in the kitchen at home, too,” Casey muttered in apology. When Matt turned on the water and slipped his hand beneath hers, his body barely grazing hers, she gulped. For such a tall, powerful man, his touch was tender as he washed the sliced finger with soap and water.
“I’ve lost count of how many dishes I’ve broken. You’re in good company,” he murmured, trading a quick glance and smile with her. Casey was so close…so close… Reining in his hardening desire for her, he hoped she wouldn’t see how aroused he’d become. It shocked him, too. But he’d been without a woman now for two years. Taking a gauze square he gently dabbed the finger dry. Squeezing a bit of antiseptic into the injury, Matt expertly placed the Band-Aid around it.
Just from the way Matt’s fingers curled protectively around her hand after it was bandaged, Casey’s breath caught. He turned and now they were facing one another, bare inches between them. Lifting her lashes, Casey met and drowned in the burning green of his narrowing eyes. His mouth was relaxed. She wanted to kiss him. Nothing, in that moment, had ever seemed so right.
Without trying to analyze her actions, Casey leaned up on her toes, her mouth meeting and sliding against his. A groan escaped Matt. His mouth plundered hers. His arms automatically moved around Casey and he drew her tightly against him. Casey absorbed the stretch of the T-shirt across his well-sprung chest, felt the release of warm, moist air as their lips met and clung to one another. Her hands slid up across his broad shoulders. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel every muscle tighten in response.
Forgetting the cut, fingertips mingling with the short strands of his hair at the base of his neck, Casey drowned in the heat and strength of his male mouth. One of his hands ranged slowly upward, as if memorizing every inch he touched, and she felt his fingers caress her spine, upper arm and, finally, her shoulder. When his hand framed her jaw and angled her so he could kiss her more deeply, Casey surrendered fully to the scorching moment.
Her breasts tightened as his fingers plunged through her hair, easing across her scalp, her skin tingling wildly in the wake of his search of her body. Casey felt the scrape of his beard across her cheek, met and responded just as wantonly as he kissed her long and hard. Their breaths were becoming short and shallow. She could feel her heart pounding in unison with his.
Slowly, ever so slowly, their searching lips separated. Casey slowly opened her eyes and looked dazedly up at Matt. He was staring down at her, his pupils huge, his eyes narrowed solely upon her. Never had Casey felt more sensual or desirable than at that moment. Matt put her in touch with her femininity in a way that no man had ever done. Stunned by her desire for him, her lips parted. No words would come. They stood in one another’s arms, fused together. Her hips were against his and she could feel the bulge of his desire for her.
“I want to love you, Casey,” he rasped.
“I know…” Her voice was wispy and faraway-sounding. She felt his hands move slowly up either side of her spine in a caress. If she remained in his arms, she would say yes. And why not? Her heart wanted this. Her brain wasn’t sure. Realizing Matt was not a man to be afraid of, Casey said, “I didn’t know this would happen…”
He gave her a wry, one-cornered smile. “Neither did I.” Matt waited. He saw the indecision in her shadowed eyes. But he also saw her hunger for him alone. It made his heart soar, but he knew from experience he couldn’t push Casey into anything. This kiss had been spontaneous and both of them had wanted it or it wouldn’t have happened. Gazing down at Casey’s glowing features, Matt realized she was just as stunned as he was by what had just happened.
Easing his hands back so that they could separate a bit, Matt said, “If this was dessert, it’s all I need.” He wanted to tease her a little so she wouldn’t panic. When Casey took a step back, Matt released her. She had come to him of her own free will. She would again. He had to be patient.
“Yes, it was,” Casey whispered, touching her throbbing lips. She could taste the power of his maleness that he’d stamped across them. And yet, he’d not hurt her. Matt stood there, shoulders back, hands at his sides—it almost hurt to absorb him in that moment. Her own body felt as if it was on fire, throbbing in the lower part like a volcano ready to explode. Matt brought out the fire in her, there was no doubt.
“I’m not sorry it happened,” Matt told her in a quiet tone. “Are you?”
Shaking her head, Casey smiled a little. “No, I’m not. I didn’t expect it, though.”
“Me neither.”
Casey turned and walked out of the bathroom. Matt followed. In the kitchen, she saw the shattered glass sparkling across the floor. “Let me help you clean this up,” she said, going to the broom closet, “and then I have to get home.”
Nodding, Matt respected her needs. “Listen, let me clean this up, Casey. You washed and dried the dishes for me. It’s the least I can do.” He stepped around the mess on the floor and met her at the door. She handed him the broom. When their fingers met, Matt nearly dragged her into his arms. But he didn’t. He could see their galvanizing kiss had shaken Casey. She needed time to feel her way through it. He didn’t, but his needs weren’t a priority.
“Okay, thanks,” she murmured. Stepping away because he was like a magnet to her own euphoric senses, Casey felt she was floating instead of walking. How could one kiss make her feel so giddy? She’d never experienced this sensation before.
Matt rested the broom against the counter and walked Casey to the front door. He turned on the light and opened it for her. She shrugged into her green nylon jacket and picked up her purse.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to,” she protested. The garage was only across the lawn of his home. There was a bright light above so she could see her way to it.
“I want to,” Matt murmured, closing the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back.
Casey absorbed his closeness. How did Matt know she ached to have this kind of intimacy with him? Two weeks ago, she’d have stepped away. Her mind spun with questions, but Casey knew the medication that was bringing her cortisol levels down to normal was part of the reason why. At the car, she clicked the automatic door opener. Would he kiss her?
Matt moved aside as she opened the car door and placed her purse inside. Hand resting on the frame of the door, he said, “Thanks for a great evening, Casey. I hope you know how important you are to me and Megan.”
Nodding, Casey slipped into the car. “It was a nice evening,” she agreed. The fire banked in his shadowed eyes made her want to stay. Did she have the courage to get out of the car and tell him she wanted to spend the night with him? Love him? Wake up with him in the morning, his arms around her? Mouth dry, Casey was shocked by her own thoughts. She could swear she saw the same desire in Matt’s eyes. But he wasn’t saying anything, either.
Go slow, she cautioned herself. We have the time….
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“CARTER, I’M STUMPED by this one donor who is new to your list.”
Carter was in a black limo being driven from the Capitol to a political gala in Alexandria, Virg
inia. He pressed the cell to his ear a bit more firmly, the connection with his wife in Wyoming weak. “Who is it?”
“Do you remember that throwaway cell phone you left on your desk?”
Scowling, Carter said, “What?” His head spun with confusion. The only throwaway cell phones he had were to speak to Frank Benson. And he never left them lying around. “I don’t have any of those.”
“Well, yes, you do, darling. It was the Fourth of July. You hurried out of our home for that affair at the plaza in town and you were late. I happened to go into your office and I noticed it sitting there. I picked it up, thinking you’d left in such a hurry that you’d forgotten it. And then I realized it wasn’t your normal cell phone that you use.”
Carter felt as though someone had grabbed his stomach and clenched it so hard he could feel the actual pain. “I’m sorry, Clarissa, I don’t remember.” Mind whirling, he knew he didn’t dare admit to leaving it there. Carter recalled arriving back to their Jackson Hole home and seeing the cell still there in the middle of his desk. He’d picked it up, smashed it and gotten rid of it. But Clarissa had seen it. Oh, God…
“Well,” she said, “I opened it up, thinking that it was yours. I wasn’t really paying attention, Carter. And when I did, the phone came on and there was this phone number on it. At first, I thought it was someone trying to call you, so I wrote it down. I put the cell back on your desk and took the number, thinking it was probably a donor.”
Closing his eyes, Carter felt adrenaline shoot into his bloodstream. His heart began to hammer. “What did you do with that number?” He kept his voice nonchalant, as if this conversation wasn’t even important.
“I placed it on your new donor list, of course. And today, I was updating the list. You know I do a background check on every donor. I want to make sure no one who could cause you political embarrassment is on there.”
Deadly Silence Page 20
