by Beth Flynn
After pulling his shirt over his head, Slade sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for his jeans. He was putting them on when he stopped and gave her a look.
"Don't look at me like that," Erin insisted. With a big sigh, she said, "Slade Bear, you are a first-class gentleman. You already know I don't require obligatory cuddling and pillow talk. I never have, and I've let you know it more than once. I don't consider you leaving to see another woman as disrespectful." She gave him a sweet smile and reached for her clothes. "Besides, it's late and I need to get home. I have to get some laundry started or I'll be sending my kids to spring break camp naked."
He was standing in front of her. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips. "Go!"
* * *
Finding Bevin's address took less than sixty seconds and, before he knew it, Slade was standing at her front door. He glanced around her porch, admiring the colorful potted plants, bird house and swing that made the entrance to her home more than inviting. Bevin lived in what could best be described as a retro beach bungalow that had probably been built in the late forties. It had been tastefully restored and showcased what looked like original windows and even a white picket fence. He looked at his watch. It was almost midnight, and even though he could see lights on inside, he didn't know if he would be waking her. It didn't matter. He pressed the doorbell.
He thought he saw a shadow making its way to the front door and before he had time to contemplate it further, he heard two deadbolts unlatching and it swung open.
Bevin stood in front of him wearing light-blue pajamas, a fluffy zebra print bathrobe and matching slippers. He thought she was utterly adorable.
"I had a feeling I'd be seeing or hearing from you before tomorrow," Bevin said as she stepped to the side and waved him in. "You found it." She nodded at the folder Slade clutched in his hand.
"You shouldn't be so easy to find," he said gruffly. "Your mother puts a lot of people away. Seems you should take better precautions in case one of her haters decides to get back at her."
"Thank you for your concern, but I'm a grown woman and can handle myself," came her response from behind him. He heard her lock the door, and he turned around to face her. He raked his eyes over her and was surprised by his instant reaction to Bevin. He felt a stirring in his groin before snapping himself out of it when she pulled her robe closed. Swallowing thickly, he remembered his reason for being there.
Slade peppered her with questions, not giving her time to respond. "Why did you put that paper in my folder, Bevin? Is this some kind of trick? Are you trying to tank this case? Did your mother put you up to this? Am I being tested?"
Bevin held up her hands as if to ward him off. "Slow down. It's not what you think."
"It's an important piece of information," he said louder than he’d intended. "It is my ethical duty to report it to your mother, the judge, and the defense could move for a mistrial." They were still standing in her small foyer and Slade had broken out in a sweat. It felt like the walls were closing in on him.
"Except that you don't have to share it with the defense," she quietly informed him. "They already have it, Slade. They're withholding it from the prosecution.” She paused before muttering under her breath, “Well, at least one guy is.”
Slade tugged at the collar of his shirt. "How do you know this?"
"Let's just say it was something I stumbled on by accident. I work in the library, and most people don't know I'm Judge Marconi's daughter. You didn't know who I was." She tilted her head to one side and a stray lock of hair fell across her pink cheek. "People tend to be careless in their conversations. And interns tend to be even more careless about what they leave around and don't shred. It happens more than you'd think."
"Why would the defense hold back this information? It could set their client free!" His exasperation was obvious.
She shrugged nonchalantly and looked at the ceiling before offering, "Maybe somebody on the defense doesn't want to prove his innocence."
He nodded slowly as understanding sank in.
"No, this is not some kind of trick. No, I'm not trying to tank your case. No, my mother did not put me up to this. Are you serious about that one?" She rolled her eyes. "And finally, no, you are not being tested. I'll leave it up to you to decide how you want to handle it, and I'll never say another word about it. And should you decide to share it with the judge and the defense, I'll deny it came from me."
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the front door.
"Your mother doesn't like me," Slade confessed.
"She knows about your family. And she has serious contempt for bikers in particular."
Slade's eyes went wide, but Bevin continued. "Your father was supposedly a pretty bad guy. Maybe still is. Your brother has been in prison and I'm almost certain he was attached to a motorcycle club before he was arrested. Still might be now that he's out."
Slade exhaled slowly, deflating like a balloon. It was obvious Bevin had done her homework.
"Which makes my mother admire you even more."
He looked up and saw that Bevin was giving him a half grin.
"What about your father?" Slade questioned. "I can't imagine what kind of man is married to the judge." He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
"I don't have a father," Bevin answered a little too quickly. "Okay, that's not true. Obviously. I know a man impregnated my mother, but she won't talk about him. I know absolutely nothing. Apparently, it was only one encounter and the few times I've asked, I get the impression she had feelings for him. He could be dead or alive. He could be living around the corner." She gave a nonchalant shrug as she stepped to the side and unlocked the front door. She opened it. Their little impromptu rendezvous was apparently over.
"Thanks, Bevin," Slade told her, his tone sincere. "I think." He raked his hand through his hair as he walked outside. Turning to face her he said, "I'm going to be up all night now."Bevin nodded her understanding.
"So, tomorrow night?" He gave her a quirky smile.
"I don't think so," came her soft reply.
"Because of this?" He waved the folder at her.
"No." She leveled a gaze at him. "Because you reek of Chanel No. 5. And since I'm assuming it's not your cologne of choice, you've recently been with a woman. And you've been close enough that you're carrying her scent on you, so I can only assume you're cheating on her by asking me out for drinks and dinner tomorrow night."
Slade's jaw dropped.
"I don't date cheaters, and I certainly don't like playing second fiddle to another woman." Bevin wouldn't break eye contact. "I guess she wasn't available tomorrow night so I'm a fill-in."
Slade couldn't think of a comeback. How could he explain Erin? How could he explain the gorgeous woman he'd been sleeping with? But, Bevin was right. His shirt smelled like Erin because Erin had been wearing it. And less than an hour ago he'd been enjoying their tryst, but his heart hadn't been in it, and his mind had been elsewhere. He hadn't been able to get Drew Barrymore's twin sister out of his head, even while he'd been buried deep inside another woman. A woman who wasn’t just his lover, but a trusted friend as well.
"And your lack of response tells me I'm right. Good night, Slade," came her firm dismissal.
Without giving him time to reply to her last comment, Bevin shut the door, locked it and turned off the porch light, leaving Slade in the dark.
Chapter 14
Pumpkin Rest, South Carolina 2007
Of all the questions he could've asked her, he had to open with one about her boyfriend? He sounded like a jealous teenager.
Christian watched Mimi's eyes go wide and her mouth formed an O. She hadn't been expecting his question. He was finished caring about the reason he'd tracked her down. It was obvious she was still lying about getting a letter from him. When he asked her details about the letter he'd supposedly sent, she hemmed and hawed. But she also apologized and offered up a truce. Did he want to spend what time he had left
with her squabbling over the past or did he want to start over like she'd suggested? He chose the latter and blurted out the only true question that had been haunting him since receiving that private investigator's report.
Mimi shifted on the couch. "I guess you probably already know I've been seeing Lucas for a few months."
"That wasn't the question." He huffed.
"Why would you ask me that, Christian?" she replied, pulling her long hair into an imaginary ponytail. She was doing her best to get over the shock she felt at his question and hoped he couldn't read it on her face.
"Because he's the only guy that you've been with for more than a few weeks. That tells me it's more serious than the others." Christian watched her swallow. The P.I. hadn't been able to do a complete background check, but thanks to the exorbitant fee he charged, he’d infiltrated Mimi’s campus and had been able to find out that before Lucas Paine, Mimi dated different guys and not for very long. The thought of her sleeping her way through college made the muscle in Christian's jaw tic.
Mimi's forehead creased when she told him, "Gee, your investigator sure did his homework. He would've had to ask around campus to get that kind of information."
"He's good," Christian snapped. Holding her captive with his penetrating eyes, he asked again. "Are you in love with Lucas Paine?"
Mimi tilted her chin up slightly. "This wasn't the question I expected, but I promised honesty and you'll get it."
“And?” He motioned for her to continue.
"I don't know if I'm in love with him. Maybe. I'm not exactly sure." She blew out a breath and waited for him to respond.
"Good," was all he said.
Mimi wondered if he looked almost relieved. Christian must've read the confusion on her face.
"If you're not sure, then you're not in love," he told her matter-of-factly.
"And you think it's good that I'm not in love with him?" She couldn’t quite believe what she thought he was saying. Even the implication made it hard for her to swallow.
He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. He tentatively touched her face and softly caressed the side of her mouth with his thumb. "This way you won't be so conflicted when you fall in love with me."
She stepped back and looked up at him. "I don't remember you being so cocky, Christian." She took another small, hesitant step back, ignoring the heat that was coiling in her belly. It was hard to miss the heat in his eyes.
"And I don't remember you being so fucking beautiful, Mimi."
Chapter 15
Pumpkin Rest, South Carolina 2007
I didn't know what to say after Christian's admission that he thought I was beautiful. Was this the same man who'd handcuffed me to a post, then cooked me dinner, next accused me of lying to him, and then told me I was going to fall in love with him? I shook my head in the hopes it would clear away some of the confusion. Christian was an enigma and I'd have been lying if I didn't admit the whole situation was stirring up long suppressed feelings. But those were the feelings of a teenage girl. And I was no longer a girl.
"You look tired," he said, interrupting my thoughts.
"I am," I admitted, stifling a yawn. "It's been an exhausting day. And my arms are starting to sting again."
I thought I saw regret flicker in his eyes.
"Why don't we both call it a night?" he offered.
Nodding my head in agreement, I asked, "I'm going to get a shower. Which bedroom is mine?"
He motioned toward the master bedroom.
"Where are you sleeping?" My shoulders were beginning to feel as heavy as my eyelids and my arms were sorer than I’d originally thought.
Again he motioned toward the master bedroom.
My eyes widened, and I told him under no circumstances would we be sharing a bed. He told me that we would be and if I didn't like it, he would have no other choice but to handcuff me to one of the bedposts in another room.
I marched toward the master bedroom. He didn't follow me.
I picked up his duffel bag from the bed and slammed it on top of the dresser. After rifling through a few drawers I found a small stash of some of his clothes. I stuffed them in his bag and walked to the door. He was still standing where I'd left him and I could tell he was suppressing a grin. I threw the bag and it landed with a soft thud on the hardwood floor. I slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it. I grabbed my overnight bag and sifted through it for my pajamas and toiletries.
I languished in the hot shower for at least twenty minutes and was surprised at how rejuvenated and calm I'd become. A good night's sleep was what I needed. I was secretly grateful that I'd handled the text to my mother and was equally thankful that Lucas wasn't expecting to hear from me. Where did that come from? I asked myself as I towel-dried my hair and brushed it out. I hadn't put on my pajamas because the bathroom was steamy and I felt sticky. I flung open the bathroom door to let some air in and almost fell backward.
Doing my best to use both hands to cover my nakedness, I awkwardly kicked the door shut in Christian's face, but not before I caught the wide smile.
"How did you get in the bedroom?" I yelled through the door.
"Really, Mimi?” he scoffed. “I picked the lock."
"Get out!" I screamed.
"No," came his blunt reply.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not coming out until you leave.”
"I'm not leaving. I hope you find the bathtub comfortable. Want me to toss in a pillow and blanket?"
I looked over at the huge Jacuzzi tub and cringed. It would be lovely to have a hot soak in it, but not spend the night sleeping against its hard surface. My original exhaustion returned with a ferocity that I hadn't expected. I pulled on my panties and Beauty and the Beast nightshirt.
I calmly walked into the bedroom and found him stretched across the top of the bedspread. He was wearing a pair of navy-blue pajama pants. Lying on his side with his head propped against one hand, he laughed when he saw my nightshirt.
"Daisy would love that," he told me, as he sat up and crossed his legs.
"Your little sister likes Beauty and the Beast?" I asked him, surprised that he would know about the Disney classic.
He gave me a smile that sent a wave of heat down my spine. "I used to play with her when she was much younger," he confessed, not an ounce of embarrassment showing. He was proud of it.
"I'm going to assume you weren't Belle. Let me think..." I paused. "You played the overbearing and egotistical Gaston?"
My insult didn't affect him at all as he sat up straight and shook his head, sending his long hair flying around his face. In his most ferocious voice, he said, "You will join me for dinner. That's not a request!"
It was a line from the movie and he nailed it. I started laughing and sat down on the edge of the bed. We were both smiling and staring at each other. It was then that I noticed the tattoo over his heart. It was two chess pieces. A black king and white queen were connected by a pair of handcuffs. I gently placed my hand on it, and asked, "What's the significance of this tattoo?"
"You don't remember?" he softly whispered.
There was a memory trying to battle its way to the surface of my brain, but the day's drama kept it just out of reach. I slowly shook my head as I stared at my pale fingers against his dark skin.
He took my hand and lifted it to his cheek. "That's okay, Mimi. Sometimes the things we don't remember can be just as important as the things we do remember." A moment passed before he added, "It'll come back to you when the time is right."
Our eyes locked, and after a moment, I started to fidget. Pulling my hand away I stood quickly. "I guess I'll take one of the other rooms," I announced and headed for the door.
"I'll grab the handcuffs and be there in a minute," I heard him say from behind me as he jumped off the bed.
I stopped dead in my tracks and balled my hands into fists at my sides. I swung around and faced him. "You're serious about this," I barked. "You think I'm going to try and leave?"
"I d
idn't say that. I just want to make sure you don't," he said. He had his hands resting on his hips. After raking my eyes over his abs, I looked back at his face.
"I'm not going to sleep with you, Christian."
"I'm not going to make a move on you, Mimi. I just want you close by." He waved his arm toward the bed.
I was tired and the fight was slowly draining out of me. He followed me as I walked back into the bathroom. We wordlessly brushed our teeth and he dabbed more peroxide on my arms.
He climbed into bed first and patted the spot next to him. I crawled in and turned my back to him. He switched off the bedside light and I didn't resist when he pulled me into his arms. I was too tired to care. He told me he wouldn't make a move on me and in my exhausted state I needed to believe that. I could feel the heat of his chest through the back of my nightshirt and felt his warm breath at my ear. "Good night, Dreamy Mimi," he softly whispered. There was no hint of his earlier mockery and I smiled in the dark.
"Christian?" I whispered back.
"Yeah?"
"Will you tell me tomorrow about your prison tattoos?" My question wasn't accusatory. I wanted to know what he'd done that sent him to prison and hopefully get him to open up about the name on his right bicep.
"What makes you think they're prison tattoos?"
"I don't think they're prison tattoos." I looked back over my shoulder so I could see his eyes. A beam of moonlight cast a sliver of brightness over his face, making his cobalt eyes glow. "I know they're prison tattoos."
"What would you know about prison tattoos?" he asked, our eyes locking in the eerie stillness of the room.
Of course Christian had no way of knowing that I'd spent the last five years getting to know my biological father. The same father who'd lived fifteen years on death row in a maximum-security prison.
I returned my head to the pillow. "You'd be surprised by what I know," I quietly answered before letting sleep carry me away.
