by Margaret Carter, Crystal Green, Erica Orloff, Patricia Rosemor
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. But I have to see her—face her with what she did.” With her hands trembling, Linnet gulped the rest of her wine and refilled the glass. Topping off Max’s, she said, “Tell me straight. Why didn’t you just throw me out of the car in the first place? Because your Svengali act wouldn’t work on me?”
He nodded. “You were a wildcard. Since I couldn’t predict what you might do, I thought it best to keep watch on you.”
“Or maybe, partly, because you agree I have a right to the truth about my niece’s murderer?”
He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, you think you’re the only one who should run around chasing killers instead of minding your own business with your latest book. What are you working on right now?”
“A guide to the great theaters and opera houses of Europe and Great Britain.” He leaned back, stretching his legs out.
“You couldn’t do all that just from photos and library research, could you?”
“I’ve visited most of them, if that’s what you’re asking, but that was years ago. I don’t run around, as you put it, the way I did when I was younger.”
“Right, I forgot, you’re over the hill.” She emptied and refilled her glass, vaguely aware that Max had consumed less of the bottle than she had. “Have you seen the Globe in London?”
“Several times,” he said with a fleeting smile.
She sighed, gazing into her wine. “That must be great. I got into drama for a couple of years in college. Not acting, of course, just helping with the sets. I was still trying to measure up to Robin.”
“Was she an actress?”
“No, but she tried almost every other extracurricular activity you could imagine. The family always thought of her as the creative, artistic one. As opposed to the studious, dull sister.”
“You? Not the label I would have assigned.”
“What you’ve seen isn’t typical. Reading mysteries is more my speed, not trying to solve them. I got on the honor roll every semester in high school, but Robin’s grades were okay most of the time, and she did all the exciting stuff, too. I tagged along like the typical adoring little sister until she wouldn’t put up with me anymore. Tried to act like her, but I didn’t have a prayer.”
“Exciting stuff? Such as?” He stared intently at her, as if sincerely interested.
“Robin lettered in gymnastics in high school. When I was about nine, I went to the playground alone and tried to imitate some of her moves. Fell off the monkey bars and broke an arm. Needless to say, Mom and Dad were not pleased.”
Max chuckled. Linnet felt a reluctant smile steal over her face. She had to admit the incident had its funny side, with the pain no more than a ghost of a memory.
“That added to my reputation as the sister with brains but no common sense. On second thought, my folks might say this amateur detective stuff is right in character. Mom always accused me of leaping before looking.” Tucking her feet under her, she half turned to face Max. The warmth of the alcohol percolated through her veins. A pleasantly fuzzy sensation replaced her earlier nervousness. “And here we are in the same position after all these years, the overachieving big sister and the little sister scrambling to catch up. Robin’s a loan officer at a bank and married to a doctor. I’m teaching science in an overcrowded, underfunded high school. She’s still the slender, elegant one, and I’m the not-so-slender, clunky one.”
“Why do you judge yourself by that standard? The fashion for undernourished women is a recent, even local, aberration.”
Sure, men often said that kind of thing, Linnet thought, but look at the women they dated. It crossed her mind, though, that whining about how her parents always liked Robin best wouldn’t enhance Max’s image of her. She shifted the conversation toward him. “How did you and Anthony get along? Did he idolize you the way kid brothers usually do?”
“Hardly.” Max swirled his glass. “As I mentioned, we didn’t have much contact in his childhood, not past the age of five, at any rate. And we were very different. He was an idealist, an attitude that baffled me.”
“Yeah, you said something about charitable projects. Such as?”
“A homeless shelter, for instance. I could accept the large donations he made. It was his money, after all, even if I couldn’t fathom the way he chose to spend it. But he went a step further and worked on the spot with the volunteers.”
“What’s wrong with that? Lots of rich people devote their time to charity, don’t they?”
“Nothing wrong with it, except when he risked his own life for his projects.” He took a drink and set the glass on the coffee table. When he spoke again, the coldness had faded from his voice. “Let’s not go into that again. My point is, Anthony was altogether more earnest than I. Unlike him, I devote myself to my own comfort. If we got better acquainted, you would doubtless consider me very selfish.”
Linnet shrugged. “As long as we can work together for now, that doesn’t matter. I’ll bet you didn’t treat him like an idiot, though.”
“Not unless I thought he was acting like one, which didn’t happen often.”
“Robin thought I couldn’t do anything right. Like when I let Dee borrow my car the week after she got her license.”
“Your sister disapproved?”
“She thought her kid wasn’t responsible enough to drive to D.C. for a concert. Worst of it was, Deanna got into an accident in downtown Washington.”
“Not your fault, surely.”
Linnet heard herself giggling and swallowed the sound. Am I getting drunk? She decided she should have consumed more dinner or less wine. “Tell that to Robin. She thought I spoiled Dee anyway, but that’s what aunts are for, right? She didn’t let me hear the end of the car thing for the next six months.”
“She allowed the girl to live with you, though.”
“She didn’t like the idea very much, but it was either that or keep up the daily screaming matches with a rebellious teenager. Deanna behaved for me—usually. I think it drove Robin crazy that I got along better with her daughter than she did.”
“Not uncommon, surely, for someone with a bit of distance to have a better relationship with a young person.”
“Mom agreed with that. She backed up my offer, or Robin might not have given in.”
“And your father?”
“He’d died the year before. Heart.” She picked up the bottle and found it empty. “What about your parents? They didn’t come with you to—take care of things?”
“Our mother died when Anthony was less than a year old. She never married.”
Linnet was struck speechless for a second by Max’s casual tone. Well, maybe bohemian lifestyles ran in his family, as well as a talent for hypnosis. “So unearthing the facts is all up to you. Then you have to understand how I feel about the situation. Come on, you’ve got to have a plan in mind for Nola. Let me in on it.”
“In all honesty, I don’t know what I’ll do when I confront her. My only plan so far is to follow my instincts. While I believe she deserves death, I have no more desire to be punished for her murder than you have.” Spoken in a voice as chill and smooth as the wine, his answer left her unconvinced.
She drained her glass and put it down. When she turned to face Max again, she had to blink to bring him into focus. Plying him with Chablis to uncover his true intentions wasn’t working the way she’d hoped. “Don’t you understand? I have to fix this.”
“Fix it?” His fingertips brushed the back of her hand. Softly, so that she had to lean over to catch the words, he said, “Death is not something you can repair.”
“I can find out the whole truth. And I can make that woman pay. I don’t know how, but I will. Somehow.” Tears blurred her vision. She rubbed her eyes, but Max’s face still shimmered in the lamplight. “It’s my fault. Robin didn’t trust me to take care of her daughter, and she was right.”
“You can’t seriously believe you’re to b
lame. Could you have stopped Deanna from joining Nola’s group? Or becoming Anthony’s lover?”
“Maybe not. She was a nineteen-year-old college sophomore. But I should’ve found a way. I should’ve known she was in danger, at least.” Swallowing a sob that threatened to choke her, she said, “Dee and Anthony told me they had to get away from Nola. They were planning to move out of state right before—”
“Yes, I know, Anthony wrote the same thing to me. But as you say, your niece was of legal age. You couldn’t lock her up like the heroine in a Gothic novel.”
“Then I should’ve reported Nola to the police.”
“On what grounds? It’s a waste of energy to torment yourself with hindsight.”
Linnet pounded the couch with a clenched fist, raising a puff of dust. “What are you trying to reassure me for? You think it’s my fault, too. You said so—if Anthony hadn’t run off with Deanna, he’d still be alive.”
He stared at her as if she’d punched him between the eyes. “My dear, I didn’t mean to blame you.”
“Sure sounded that way.” To her exasperation, tears spilled over. “And don’t call me your dear.”
“I lashed out in anger. Yes, if they hadn’t become lovers, they wouldn’t have died. But that is not your fault.”
“Don’t try to weasel out of it. You were right the first time.” The words caught in her throat. She drew a quivering breath and started over. “I let her get killed. I have to make up for it—have to fix it—”
“Linnet, please.” Before she realized he’d moved, his arm curled around her. “You know better. This isn’t rational.”
“Rational?” she wailed. She pounded on his chest. “Don’t talk to me about rational! This whole thing is insane!”
She felt his lips graze her cheek. “I don’t believe I’m doing this,” he murmured.
She didn’t believe she was allowing it, either. Her body shook with stifled sobs, while he rubbed her back in expanding circles. Warmth radiated from her shoulder blades down her spine and along her limbs to the tips of her fingers and toes. His lips, cool against her flushed skin, explored her face, with a butterfly-wing flicker of tongue every few seconds.
He smoothed back her hair and nipped her right earlobe. “Hush,” he whispered. “Don’t waste your energy this way.” The tickle of his breath made her blush all over again.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be thinking about Deanna. When his lips wandered along her jawline, though, guilt faded into the background. Delicately, his tongue explored the corners of her mouth until it parted. He skimmed her teeth, traced circles around her lips. With a long sigh, she yielded to the invitation and met his tongue with her own.
The hand massaging her back crept lower, lingering at her waistline. The kiss deepened, drawing a moan from Linnet’s throat. Max’s lips no longer felt cool, but searing hot. The heat rippled through her, gathering in the pit of her stomach.
Leaning into his embrace, she rose onto her knees. He abandoned her lips, evoking a whimper of frustration, and nibbled his way to her throat. With a gasp, she arched her neck, inviting him to graze there. His lips and tongue generated fresh waves of heat, while his hand moved still lower, cupping her derriere. She felt as if that hand scorched her flesh.
Her fingers curled to dig into his shoulders. Alternately nipping, licking and sucking, he teased the curve of her neck. All thought melted away, replaced by pure sensation flowing and swirling from his mouth and hands through every nerve and vein of her body. Her thighs involuntarily clenched. She found that her eyes had closed, and sparks flashed behind the lids. A cry burst from her as the heat spiraled to unbearable intensity, and her secret places pulsed to the rhythm of his lapping tongue.
Max gasped and tightened both arms around her. For an instant she couldn’t breathe. Her nails gouged his shoulders through the thin cloth. Then the storm ebbed. Releasing a long, shuddering breath, she let her head droop onto his shoulder. His shirt, she noticed, was damp from her tears.
He resumed stroking her back in slow circles. She submitted to the caress, ashamed to look him in the face. Oh, God, how did I let that happen?
Chapter 5
Max’s fingers explored her neck with gentle pressure, while his other hand moved up to stroke her hair. She squirmed out of his embrace and retreated to the other end of the couch. Her chest ached from crying. She had to struggle for breath before she could force out a sentence. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing you didn’t allow.” His breathing, too, sounded labored. “But I shouldn’t have done it. Don’t worry, this won’t happen again.”
“You bet it won’t! You caught me off guard—took advantage—” Aware of the hot flush on her cheeks, she wanted to hide from his heavy-lidded gaze. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”
“Really? To do what?”
“How should I know? I don’t know you, and I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re up to. Except you seem to think you can get around me with a few kisses and string me along with whatever plot you’re hatching.”
“What would I get out of that, when we’ve already agreed to work together?”
“Maybe you’re planning to dump me someplace and take on Nola by yourself, and you think you can soften me up to accept it quietly.” Max’s politely blank stare implied that her rant was too far-fetched to bother answering. “Well, you don’t expect me to believe you were swept away with irresistible passion, do you?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
Using the couch as a support, Linnet pulled herself to her feet. “Come on, do you think I’m that dumb? Or that desperate for male attention?” Her head swam.
“Neither assumption ever crossed my mind.” He caught her elbow as she stumbled.
“Leave me alone.” The room whirled when she took a step. Groping, she clutched Max’s arm. “Okay, give me a second.”
“Shall I carry you?”
“No!” She couldn’t face one more humiliation. After several deep breaths, she unfastened her grip from his sleeve. By advancing one pace at a time, her arms outspread for balance, she made it to the hall, where she could use the wall as a guide. After a stop in her bathroom, for a drink of cool water and some of it splashed on her face, she managed to peel off her clothes and shuffle into a nightgown before crawling between the sheets. She gritted her teeth until the bed stopped rocking like a rowboat on a stream.
Had she actually climaxed from a few minutes of kissing? Granted, she had lived celibate ever since a disastrous breakup right before finishing her master’s degree. But she’d been kissed plenty of times in the years since, occasionally by experts. What magic did Max Tremayne wield? Her head still spinning, she skimmed her hands down the front of her gown and felt her body tingle to life. Sighing, she reached up to rub the place where he’d nuzzled her neck.
Had he realized his effect on her? How could he have failed to notice, when she’d barely restrained herself from moaning aloud? Aftershocks of pleasure vanished with a renewed flood of embarrassment. She gratefully sank into oblivion.
She floated in a warm pool, fragrant bubbles frothing on the surface of the water. A rosy mist enveloped her. Hands played over her breasts, teasing the nipples to peaks. Lips nibbled at the corners of her mouth, her ears, her throat. Tantalizing fingers tickled her most sensitive spots, until the heat in her depths expanded and hovered on the verge of explosion. A painless sting between her breasts sent her into ecstatic convulsions.
A face drifted into focus above her. Max. “Sleep,” he whispered.
Oh, Lord, what a dream! What had the man done to her? Dry mouthed, Linnet staggered to the bathroom in the dark and chugged about a pint of water. Though her head felt clogged, at least she wasn’t nauseated. Dragging herself back to bed, she slept fitfully for the rest of the night. At one point she half awoke to hear the shower running in the hall bath. With the muzzy thought that Max had probably managed to find the towels on his own, she faded out again.
Now I remember, she thought when she woke up at almost nine. This is why I don’t drink at home very often. That much wine needed the ballast of a big meal to counteract the effect. On top of the fuzziness in her head, her throat felt parched. After a glass of water followed by a shower to dispel the mild headache and overall sluggish feeling, she put on jeans and a blouse, then stood in front of the dresser brushing her hair. In the mirror, her eyes appeared glazed. The spot where Max had kissed her neck felt sore. Peering at her reflection, she noticed a tiny scratch. A small price to pay for those incredible few minutes. Her skin turned deep pink.
No, I will not think that way! She ought to be ashamed of herself, not savoring the memory. How could she face Max after last night? She didn’t have any realistic hope that he wouldn’t remember every second. And she had to sit next to him on a plane for hours.
Trudging into the kitchen, she found a note on the counter: “I’ve set the alarm, but I tend to sleep heavily. Please get me up at noon if the alarm fails to wake me.”
Just what she needed, images of a heavily sleeping Max Tremayne. Well, at least he hadn’t abandoned her in the night and flown off to California without her.
Or had he? The question leaped into her mind like a pouncing tiger. The note could be a ruse to give him a head start. His yielding to her threats could have been an act. Without him, she wouldn’t have the least idea where in Pacific Grove to start searching for Nola. Fighting a surge of panic, she scurried into the living room and checked the driveway through the front window. The rented car still sat there. She sagged with relief.
He could’ve phoned a cab before I woke up, though. Feeling a little silly by now, but still compelled to make sure, she tiptoed down the hall and turned the knob of the closed bedroom door, inch by inch. She opened it a crack and peered into the shadows. A shape, unmistakably a human form, occupied the bed. She shut the door, relieved that he hadn’t awakened. Her cheeks grew hot at the thought of having to explain why she’d peeked at him.
