For Love of Money

by Cathy Perkins

  Her mouth dropped open. Should’ve seen that coming.

  He leaned closer and his lips met hers.

  It was as good as the first time. Some parts sparkled, other parts melted. Fizzy things in her brain suggested asking him into the house would be a nice idea after all. Her fingers played with his neck and hair. Apparently he liked that, because his arms tightened and he upped the voltage on the kissing until she couldn’t breathe, or even think.

  Just as she started exploring his chest, he raised his head. His eyes were dark and hooded. His heart banged against her super-sensitive breasts and another body part nudged her belly. “If we keep doing that, we’re going inside. And if we go inside, I’m not leaving until tomorrow.”

  She blinked up at him. Speak, encouraged her brain. Kiss, urged her body. He must’ve seen it in her expression. He lowered his head again. His hands caressed her. She arched with pleasure and he groaned.

  “Damn, woman. You’re gonna kill me.” He stepped back, releasing her. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Later today. You know what I mean.”

  He was pointing like a bird dog, she noticed with some part of her brain. The rest of her watched with astonishment as he turned and walked to his car. What? Wait. You can’t…

  “I’ll call you.”

  Terrific. That pretty much guaranteed neither of them would sleep tonight.

  Chapter Forty-six

  JC stopped at the end of her walkway, hand on his hips, staring at who knew what.

  He turned.

  That was more like it.

  He walked toward her—and right past. “Wait here.”

  “Huh?” Holly stood still for about a second, then followed him through her front door into the foyer.

  He turned and pointed a finger at her. “Do not move unless I tell you to. This is a unilateral protection police decision.”

  Good sense warred with instinctive irritation. If there was someone in the house, she’d be both in danger and in JC’s way if she followed him. Except, wait a minute. “This is my house, my home. Nobody has a reason to be hiding in the dark waiting for me.”

  JC heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, and no one had a reason to shoot at you, either. But that happened, remember?”

  Like she could forget. She crossed her arms. “They could’ve been shooting at you. Cops have more enemies than accountants.”

  He rolled his eyes, turned around, and walked into the black void of her living room.

  She heard him moving through the house checking rooms for intruders, looking in closets and behind shower curtains.

  Footsteps sounded in the living room. She swallowed, suddenly nervous. What if he wanted to start up again where they left off? Things between them were happening too fast. She pulled the front door open. “Thanks for clearing the monsters from under the bed.”

  With just a few more steps, he stood in front of her. He pushed the door closed. His other hand rose and flattened against it, effectively pinning her between his arms. “Neither one of us is walking away this time.”

  His voice was low and deep. This close, heat from his body flowed over her. Her defenses crumbled faster than she could raise them.

  I surrender. I’m yours.

  She didn’t need to say the words. They must’ve been written all over her. Desire flared in his eyes. He leaned closer—oh, but he smelled good—and his lips touched hers. It wasn’t a wimpy, kissy move. It was a full-out, lust-inspiring, you’re-gonna-remember-this-for-a-while kiss. Her arms wrapped around him and she gave him everything she had in response.

  He groaned. His arms closed tighter around her.

  Nothing had changed—and everything had changed.

  Six years had passed. They’d had other lovers, but with his arms around her, his mind-blowing kisses, all her old feelings flooded back.

  His hands slid down her back, cupped her butt, pressed her hips into his. His erection throbbed, hot and hard.

  Oh God, but she’d missed him. Missed this.

  He kissed her neck, her throat. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you at Big Flats,” he murmured against her skin. “Hell, I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

  “Is that all this is? Wanting?”

  He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “You know there’s more to it than that.”

  His lips claimed hers again.

  Fire and need, passion and heat.

  Their jackets hit the floor. He pulled her shirt free, his fingers warm against her belly. They rose, trailing ribbons of fire. His thumbs found her sensitive nipples. “I love your skin. Your breasts.”

  His mouth moved, suckled her through the lacy bra. Pleasure shot through her. He gave her other breast equal time before working his way back up to her throat. He raised his head. His face was the picture of male gratification as he cupped her breasts. “I’ve dreamed about this. In my dreams, we took our time.”

  “Mmm.”

  He leaned in and kissed her again before whispering, “I don’t think I can wait.”

  Thank God.

  “Waiting’s overrated.” She slid her hands under his shirt, explored the length of his back. “You have on too many clothes.”

  In one fluid move, he jerked the shirt over his head. He had a wonderful body, hard muscle and smooth skin. Then somehow her slacks were on the floor and he stood between her legs—legs she wrapped around him—shifting her hips so he was exactly where she wanted him.

  “Oh, God,” he groaned. “Holly.”

  Her back pressed against the door. His warm hands caressed her. It wasn’t enough.

  “More, more.” It came out as a muffled moan. His tongue was in her mouth again.

  He made a sound that could’ve been her name, but she wasn’t sure because she’d quit thinking, quit listening, quit breathing. He shifted her weight and fumbled between them. She heard his belt jingle, the rasp of his zipper. Then his hands were on her, sweeping her panties aside.

  Rational thought dragged her back from the edge of insanity. Incapable of speech, she dug her fingers into his shoulders to get his attention. Wait.

  He thrust, and her body matched the movement, and then he was inside her, hot, hard, and oh, so male. It felt so damn good she nearly screamed with pleasure. He thrust again. Lights flashed behind her eyes and she could’ve orgasmed on the spot. She wanted him to keep moving so badly it was all she could do to make her mouth form the word. “Condom.”

  He froze.

  She watched comprehension register.

  “I swear I’m clean.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “Oh, shit. You aren’t on the pill.”

  She didn’t need to answer.

  They stared at each other.

  He groaned. “Don’t move. If you move, I swear I’ll come. My body thinks it’s eighteen again.” He shifted backward with agonizing slowness.

  The slow withdrawal pressed against sensitive spots and her eyes nearly rolled up in her head. “I’m going to lose it in about two seconds,” she whispered.

  His penis sprang free and stood between them, hot and wet. “Please tell me you have a condom.” Desperation made his voice ragged.

  “Don’t you? I thought all guys carried them.”

  “I stopped years ago.” He lowered her body so she stood on her feet. “Don’t you have something?”

  Maybe if I’d had sex in the last year. She shook her head. “Sorry.”

  Really sorry.

  “If I go to the store, will you promise not to move?” He jerked up his jeans, and his phone chirped. With a curse, he snatched the phone off his belt. “Dimitrak.”

  She was glad that growl wasn’t aimed at her.

  His face transformed and just like that he turned into Detective Dimitrak.

  Wordlessly, he closed the phone and studied her. He might still look like the sexist man she’d ever met—dark, hooded eyes, rumpled hair, enormous erection, testosterone to his eyeballs—but she knew both of them were about to end up alo
ne and frustrated.

  “Lee Alders just surfaced.”

  Chapter Forty-seven

  SUNDAY MORNING

  Holly opened her front door and peeked outside. On the upside, no one was lurking on her front steps. In the not-so-much category, it was one of those gray mornings with fog blanketing the rivers that reminded her winter was coming. It was shaping up as a day she’d ordinarily laze in bed, except today she couldn’t sleep. In the few short hours since JC had left, she’d climbed in and out of bed a dozen times, checked the locks, and watched the Richland cops cruise past.

  Unlike Friday night, she’d been relieved by their presence.

  She locked her front door and headed for the rental car. With a quick twist, she stuffed the Bluetooth device into her ear and dropped her phone in her pocket. She settled behind the wheel and stared at the unfamiliar controls. Where were the lights and seat adjustments?

  As soon as she pulled out of the driveway, she tapped the Bluetooth. “Mother.”

  At her mother’s groggy, “Hello,” Holly glanced at the clock and winced. It was earlier than she’d realized. “Can you meet me at the office later this morning? We need to talk about Stevens Ventures.”

  “Sure.” Her mother sounded more awake. “Anything I need to know right now?”

  She rolled the stop sign at Leslie, headed toward Gage. “It’s a mess, but it’ll be better if I show you. Oh, and in case there’s anything on the news, there was another, um, incident last night, but I’m fine.”

  “What?”

  Like her mother would let that slide past. “I’ll tell you about it at the office.”

  She disconnected before her mother could ask any questions.

  Holly tested phrases for reassuring her mother until she reached her favorite espresso shop. “Double-shot latte, skinny, please.”

  She’d just climbed back into the car when a tap at her window sent her heart rate into the stratosphere and her hands into the air. Coffee surged over the rim of the cup and landed with a scalding splash on her jeans-clad knee. “Ow! Dammit!”

  Nicole Stevens stood beside the passenger door. She tapped on the window again.

  Holly sucked in a deep breath, and put the coffee into the cupholder. Damn. She should’ve gone for Spudnuts.

  She poked at the buttons on the console, figuring one of them controlled the windows. The central lock clicked and released. Nicole opened the door, slid into the passenger seat, placed her Kate Spade bag on her lap, and said, “Let’s go.”

  Holly did a complete double-take. “Damn, you scared me.” Not to mention burned the crap out of her knee. “Go where? What’s going on?”

  Nicole’s Jaguar was parked two slots away. Holly couldn’t remember if it had been there when she arrived. “Do you have car trouble?”

  “I need to talk to you—privately—about Tim.” Nicole’s fingers tightened around her huge purse, but her face remained expressionless.

  Good Lord, had Nicole just found out about the fraud? Marcy? “Do you want to sit here? Or go inside?”

  “We need privacy.”

  It was an A or B question, but whatever.

  “Just drive.”

  “I need to go to the office. We can talk there.” Holly put the rental in reverse, backed out and headed down Steptoe. She’d hand Tim the resignation letter when he came to get his wife. “Tim can give you a ride back to your car.”

  “I don’t want to see him.”

  Wow, Nicole must be seriously pissed at him. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I warned you. You didn’t listen.”

  With a keep-your-temper-under-control sigh, Holly turned onto Columbia Trail toward Highway 240. “I don’t know what your problem is, but can we skip the mysterious routine? I really don’t feel that great today.”

  “Morning sickness?” Nicole snorted derisively.

  It took a second for the words to register. “I’m not pregnant. I’ve just had a couple of…accidents in the past few days.”

  “They weren’t accidents.”

  A finger of concern ran up her spine. She gave Nicole a sharp look, but the woman was again staring straight ahead. How did Nicole know they were or weren’t accidents…unless Tim was responsible and he’d told his wife.

  Or...was Nicole part of it? Was she having second thoughts, bothered by the violence? “You said you wanted to talk about Tim. What’s wrong? You look a little…” Weirded out probably wasn’t the best thing to say under the circumstances. “Tired.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I have the perfect life. The perfect marriage.”

  Okay, then.

  Nicole had always been a little out there, but somebody needed some serious medication. Holly wanted this whack job out of her car. Now. She stopped at the entrance to the roundabout and thought about saying, “Get out.”

  But if Nicole wasn’t part of the fraud, that made her a victim, too. Finding out about it, or having Tim tell her he was planning to divorce her, could’ve driven her over the edge.

  Holly took a deep breath and made a decision. She’d play along, at least until they got to the office. “You’re right. You’re beautiful and you do indeed have a perfect life.”

  Hopefully, Nicole missed the sarcasm.

  She had no idea how to handle the loony tunes woman. “I can tell you’re upset. Do you want me to call one of your girlfriends? Tim?”

  “Stay away from him.” Nicole reared up in the seat. Her eyes were the kind that came with fangs and violence. “You couldn’t leave things along. At first I actually thought you were like that tramp—making a play for him. I’ve seen you. Every time I turn around, you’re all over him.”

  “I’m not interested in Tim. I swear. You can ask JC. That’s who—”

  “I should’ve known he’d never be interested in someone like you.”

  Holly let the insult slide without comment.

  “Then I realized you weren’t trying to ruin my marriage. You’re trying to ruin Tim.” Nicole opened the designer bag and pulled out a pistol. Neither the gun nor her hands were shaking.

  Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

  The diminutive woman lifted the pistol and pointed it directly at Holly’s chest.

  She’d read the thrillers, seen the movies. When the too-stupid-to-live heroine climbed into the villain’s car, she always wanted to yell, “Run for it. Don’t get in the car!”

  Yet here she sat, already strapped into the driver’s seat, while Nicole flipped a lever on the gun.

  The pistol looked huge in the petite blonde’s fingers, but even if she was the world’s worst shot, from two feet away she’d hit a critical body part if she pulled the trigger.

  A car horn sounded behind them. Holly’s gaze darted from the gun to the mirror and back. Could the driver see it? Could she signal them?

  Could she make a run for it?

  “Uh, uh, uh.” Nicole poked the pistol against Holly’s ribs. “I will shoot you if you even try to open your door. Drive.”

  Holly actually felt the slide, the mental disconnect. Just as with her M&A analysis, distance from the scene let her assess odds. She considered and rejected options. Jump from the car? Risk a wreck? Nicole shooting her in the close confines of the car?

  Anyway she looked at it, the cold glare of reality said she wasn’t coming out of this alive.

  That was not acceptable, so she searched for a better reality.

  She pulled into the dumb-as-hell roundabout some idiot traffic planner had plopped into the middle of the busiest intersection in the city. She passed the Highway 240 connector, looping around the circle for a second pass.

  “What are you doing?” Nicole shoved the pistol into her face. “Get on the highway.”

  Holly said a quick prayer that the gun didn’t accidentally go off while Nicole was waving it around. “We need to talk about this. You know Tim loves you. He isn’t having an affair with me.”

  She had to make Nicole see reason. She made another loop around the roundabout.
“This is a big mistake. Tim loves you. He cried about your baby. He was distraught about losing it.”

  “I didn’t lose my baby.” Red, angry blotches mottled Nicole’s porcelain skin.

  Way to make things worse.

  Panic pushed forward and Holly gave a wild look around. Why hadn’t one of the other drivers noticed the crazy woman with the gun? Where was the highway patrol when you needed them? Maybe as long as she kept driving, spinning around the circle, Nicole might not notice they weren’t going anywhere.

  “Marcy was pregnant.” Nicole spat out. She shifted in her seat, and leaned closer. “The whore.”

  Holly fumbled for the right words to diffuse her. “Um…”

  “Why were you at that house where Tim takes his whores?”

  She knew someone had been outside the Yakima office. “It was for work. I had to get papers from the office. Tim wasn’t there.”

  Something flickered in the depths of those china doll eyes. Maybe Nicole believed her, but in the alternative reality she currently inhabited, it didn’t compute. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I swear, I didn’t do anything. I don’t want him.”

  “No, you’re a vindictive bitch.”

  The pistol pressed into her temple. She was afraid to breathe. If Nicole’s finger jumped just a fraction, if they hit a pothole, she was a goner.

  “I heard you claim Tim’s committing fraud. He rejected you, so you’re trying to ruin him.”

  Holly’s voice emerged in a croak. “I’m not going to ruin him.”

  Tim did that all by himself.

  “I won’t let you take away everything I’ve worked for. I am never going to be poor again.” Nicole’s hand didn’t move. Neither did the gun. “Get on the highway.” Her voice had that dead calm quality again.

  There was a long silence while Holly’s brain scrambled, trying to catch up and get ahead of the psycho in the next seat. With stunning, belated clarity she realized she’d been looking at the wrong Stevens. Tim may be a thief, but Nicole had killed Marcy.

  Holly lifted her left hand from the wheel and pushed back her hair. As nonchalantly as she could, she tapped the Bluetooth device, activated it, and murmured, “JC.”