by Margaret Carter, Crystal Green, Erica Orloff, Patricia Rosemor
Jodie? From fifty feet away, Linnet couldn’t be sure, but this girl bore a close resemblance to the friend Deanna had brought home a couple of times.
Yet it didn’t seem likely. How would Nola’s “disciple,” who was supposed to be in Monterey, know where to find Max and Linnet in San Francisco? There could be plenty of blue-haired young women in a huge city like this. On the other hand, surely this couldn’t be a coincidence. But how could this girl possibly be Jodie? Linnet veered toward her anyway. A closer look would confirm whether she bore the dragonfly tattoo Linnet remembered. But before she got near enough to see the girl’s face clearly, the watcher straightened up from her slouched position and retreated at a brisk walk. When Linnet increased her own pace, the girl broke into a trot.
“Jodie, is that you? Wait a minute!” The girl didn’t slow down, of course. Linnet clenched her teeth in frustration at making a spectacle of herself for nothing. She sped up to keep from losing the girl.
She wove in and out of the clumps of pedestrians, her purse and carry-on bag thumping her side. Her quarry didn’t look back or slow down. Linnet bumped into a middle-aged man with a cell phone at his ear, gasped an apology and hurried on. The girl was about to turn a corner just ahead. An electric cart loomed in the middle of the corridor, beeping insistently, blocking both Linnet’s path and her view.
After dodging around the cart, she dashed to the corner where she’d last seen the girl, then stood still, panting, glancing wildly around. The blue-haired girl had vanished.
Chapter 6
Aware that she had little hope of finding one person who’d faded into the crowd in the terminal, Linnet hurried back to the car-rental counter. She debated whether to tell Max about the futile chase. She decided not to mention the incident, at least for now. After all, she wasn’t sure of the girl’s identity. The panicked flight didn’t mean much. Who wouldn’t run if a strange woman started chasing her? Linnet irritably squelched a voice in the back of her mind that hinted she was withholding information from Max only because his own secretiveness annoyed her.
When she caught up with him, his brusque manner confirmed her decision to keep quiet. He dangled car keys and said with a frown, “What took you so long? Come on, I’ve reserved a room in a motel less than five minutes away.”
Halfway to the parking lot, she processed that sentence. “Room? Singular?”
“They’re hosting some sort of convention and had only one nonsmoking room available.” He flashed her a wry smile. “Don’t worry, your virtue is safe.”
Again he left the driving to her. With sunglasses on, he leaned back in the passenger seat and recited the directions he’d received from the motel operator. When Linnet pulled the compact car into the parking lot, she noticed Welcome California Wing, Civil Air Patrol on the marquee. People in dark blue uniforms milled around the lobby. So Max probably hadn’t made up the excuse about a shortage of rooms. Come to think of it, sharing a room had one advantage. She could keep an eye on him to guard against his sneaking away without her.
Wilting, she sank onto a couch beside a potted palm while he stood in line to check in. Her head drooped. She hadn’t managed nearly enough sleep the night before. Max’s voice snapped her out of a daze.
“Shall we go upstairs?” Tossing her one of the two key cards, he grabbed her bag along with his own stuff and headed for the elevator.
The prospect of stretching out in air-conditioned comfort sounded so appealing that she didn’t bother to resent his high-handed behavior. She felt almost content until Max unlocked the room door and waved her inside.
“Wait a minute! There’s only one bed!” King-size, it sprawled over most of the room.
He shrugged. “As I said, it was all they had. What are you concerned about? We’ll be staying only a few hours, until dark. Don’t you believe I can control my impulses that long?”
Her cheeks turned hot. “I don’t think I’m that irresistible,” she muttered. Facing away from him to deposit her bag on the luggage stand, she could still see him in the mirror. A smile flickered over his lips.
“More so than you think. However, all I want is sleep.”
She brushed a lock of hair away from her damp forehead. “Well, maybe that’s all you want, but I need food. We could order something from room service.”
“Nothing for me.” He sagged onto the bed, bending over to untie his shoes. “If you decide to order a meal, I’d prefer that you avoid any strongly spiced foods. The smells tend to upset my stomach.”
“Sure.”
“And don’t open the curtains, please. The sun gives me a headache.”
“Fine.” Again she marveled at the incongruity of such a vigorous man having such a list of medical sensitivities.
The thought flew out of her head when he followed the removal of shoes and socks with pulling off his shirt. She hardly realized she was staring until he unsnapped his slacks and started to unzip them. Her gasp drew a quizzical glance from him. “Did you expect me to sleep fully dressed?”
Snatching her toiletries pouch and a handful of clothes from her bag, Linnet fled into the bathroom. She stood under the cool shower long enough to give him plenty of time to get settled—and hidden. Her bare skin still blushed deep pink when she got out to dry herself. Her nipples hardened not only from the friction of the towel but even more from the memory of her dream.
Why was she behaving like a kid with a crush? Max couldn’t have any personal interest in her. He had to concentrate on finding his brother’s killer. Just as she ought to keep her mind on Deanna, not on erotic fantasies.
In fresh shorts and blouse, with the ankh pendant again in place around her neck, she peeked through the half-open door. Max lay on his back with the sheet drawn up to midchest. His eyes were closed. Could he be asleep already? Linnet tiptoed into the bedroom and flipped through the guest services directory. She ordered a sandwich—chicken salad, surely bland enough for anyone—and a diet cola. The motel café might have offered a wider selection than room service, but she didn’t put it past Max to leave without her if she let him out of her sight.
He did look genuinely dead to the world, though. He didn’t stir while she talked on the phone, even though she had to switch on a light to read the number, nor did the rhythm of his breath change. In fact, she couldn’t even hear him breathing.
After eating the sandwich, she tried vainly to concentrate on her paperback mystery. Fatigue made the words blur on the page. What harm would it do to lie down for a few minutes? Max didn’t look about to wake up. Anyway, the width of the bed left her plenty of space to rest without getting near him. She folded down the bedspread just far enough to expose a pillow on the side opposite his. She lay faceup on top of the covers, taking her position with slow caution to keep from disturbing Max. He didn’t move.
She forced her arms and legs to relax one by one. She was perfectly safe with Max. If he’d wanted to hurt her—or ravish her, for that matter—he’d had plenty of chances. The tension seeped out of her muscles. Her eyes and head felt heavy. Sleep crept over her….
Fingers caressed every curve and hollow of her body. Or maybe tongues. Tongues of flame. They scorched her flesh, but they didn’t hurt. Far from it…
Linnet’s eyes snapped open. Dreaming again. What’s with this crazy obsession? She struggled to tame her rapid breathing. What if the noise woke Max? Carefully she turned on her side to look at him. The mattress dipped, but at least the springs didn’t squeak. Despite the closed curtains, she could see his face clearly once her eyes adjusted to the dimness. He didn’t react, not so much as a flutter of an eyelash. She told herself it was ridiculous to fear that he could sense her excitement. If he could, the vibrations emanating from her would have shocked him awake already.
On the other hand, he had talents she’d never seen in any other man. She’d read enough about hypnosis to realize that his effect on Nola’s hanger-on hadn’t been normal. If psychic powers existed, Max probably possessed them. Linnet had n
ever believed in such things, though. As a science teacher, she ought to be ashamed of herself for entertaining the notion.
Yet how could the science she knew explain that boy’s readiness to commit suicide at Max’s command? Or the way he turned almost catatonic after Max got through with him? If a drug explained those reactions, why hadn’t Max used the same drug on her?
A buried memory surfaced to form a cold spot in her chest. After Deanna had started spending so many evenings with Nola’s group, she had often stumbled around the house in a daze the next day. She hadn’t heard half the things Linnet said to her. Linnet had quickly realized her niece wasn’t ignoring her on purpose. Rather, the lapses in attention were real. Worse, Deanna had suffered gaps in her memory. At first Linnet had assumed Dee just didn’t want to confess the details of Nola’s parties. Gradually, though, it had become obvious that the girl’s vagueness arose from a genuine inability to remember much about those gatherings. Linnet had suspected drugs but never found solid evidence. Now she feared Nola had manipulated Deanna’s mind the same way Max had controlled the young man’s.
Could a normal human being do those things? But if Max and Nola weren’t normally human, what were they? Though Linnet enjoyed reading the occasional science-fiction novel, she considered herself too levelheaded to confuse entertainment with real life.
She scanned Max, lying motionless beside her. Aside from his milk-pale skin in contrast to the dark hair, he looked normal enough. That coloring must have run in the family. His brother had had the same marble-like complexion. Her eyes fixed on Max, she waited for any sign of awareness. His chest didn’t even expand visibly with his breathing. Struck by a ridiculous idea, she raked through her hair to snag a few loose strands. She dangled a couple of hairs in front of his face, inwardly laughing at her own silliness.
Of course he was breathing. A healthy man of no more than forty didn’t lie down and die for no reason. Still, she stared at his nose and mouth, waiting for a breath to stir the hairs. Minutes went by. Surely at least two minutes, she thought, though she hadn’t glanced at the clock. Her wrist cramped. Give up. This is ridiculous! she scolded herself.
Finally, after what felt like three minutes or more, the hairs wavered. She felt a light puff of air on her hand. There, what did I tell you? She dropped the hairs on the rug and massaged her wrist. Yet she remained less convinced than her rational side claimed. Could he have paused that long between breaths, or had she just failed to notice an exhalation? She plucked up the hem of the sheet and eased it down his chest. His right arm lay at his side, the left bent to cover his ribs. Linnet stretched her hand toward him, hovered an inch from his forearm.
Her heartbeat quickened. What was she doing? If she touched him, he would certainly wake up, and how would she explain her behavior? What if he got the wrong idea?
Well, it wouldn’t be totally wrong, would it? She ordered the inner voice to shut up. Slowly she lowered her hand until her fingertips barely rested on his arm. No response. She curled her fingers around his wrist to find the pulse point. She couldn’t feel any movement under the skin. She groped for the spot, fighting the impulse to squeeze, which would wake him for sure.
Her failure to find a pulse didn’t mean a thing. She wasn’t a doctor or nurse, just a biology teacher with a first-aid certificate seven years out-of-date. Her own heart raced, ignoring her sensible arguments. Again she noticed how cold his skin felt. Maybe he was sick, after all. Did he need medical attention? She visualized herself calling 911, then having Max wake up and laugh at her, while a paramedic team viewed her panic with pity or contempt.
She let go of his wrist and moved her hand over his chest, not quite touching. The triangular pattern of velvety hair tempted her with the memory of how it had felt when she’d touched it before. Instead of pausing to give temptation a chance to overwhelm her, she pressed her fingers to the side of his neck. Silently she counted, spacing the numbers with “thousand” between them. She passed two hundred before she felt a single pulsation. There, of course he had a heartbeat. And if she didn’t stop groping him, he would catch her at it.
Yet she didn’t back off. Instead, she caught herself laying her open palm on his chest. Could the coolness be caused by the air-conditioning? That seemed unlikely, since her own skin glowed with warmth.
Because of thinking hot thoughts, she chided herself. Which you’ve got no business doing. She skimmed down his chest, relishing the texture of the hair against her palm. Stop that right this minute. Her hand ignored her. She gazed at the landscape she couldn’t resist exploring. His nipples pebbled up, even though she hadn’t touched them. Her own suddenly ached.
His fingers clamped around her wrist. An involuntary gasp escaped her. Her eyes flicked up to his face and clashed with his, now wide-open. He was breathing audibly now, in shallow pants that her own breathing echoed.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Then what did you mean?” His voice, almost too low to understand, verged on a growl.
“I’m not sure. You looked so…still. I was afraid you might be sick.” How ridiculous did that sound? But any excuse was better than admitting her actual thoughts.
“As you see, I’m perfectly well.” He smoothed back the hair tumbling over her forehead. “Except for interrupted sleep. And acute hunger.”
She tried to pull away. His hand kept hers imprisoned. “I could call room service again. What do you want?”
He bared his teeth in a not-quite smile. “Not that kind of hunger.” His fingers crept under her hair to caress the nape of her neck. “And surely you can guess what I want.”
Her throat constricted so that she could hardly talk. “I don’t want—”
“Don’t waste energy on lies.” He sat up, still grasping her wrist in his left hand, while using his right to guide her head toward his. “You’re as eager to be tasted as I am to taste you.”
For a second she thought about how odd that remark sounded, but the fog in her brain kept her from focusing on the strangeness. His fingers traced spirals on the back of her neck. His tongue flicked at the corners of her mouth, never settling long enough for her to retaliate. Chills and flames chased each other up and down her body. Now the hand that chained hers began teasing tender spots on the inside of her wrist, places she’d never imagined as erogenous zones. He seemed to be feeling her pulse, the way she had tried to feel his. Except that his technique far surpassed hers.
He continued tantalizing her open mouth while evading every attempt she made to capture his lips. With rapid strokes of his tongue, he followed the curve of her jaw to her neck. She tilted her head, cupped by his open hand, to welcome his kisses on her throat. His lips burned, though his hands still felt deliciously cool on her overheated skin.
From deep in his chest that sound she’d heard before, almost a purr, rumbled through the mist that clouded her brain. “Max,” she whispered. No answer. She shifted her hand in his now-relaxed grip to press her nails into his skin. “Max, stop.”
His mouth moved to her ear and painlessly nipped the lobe. “Why?”
“You know why. We’re not supposed to do this.” With her free hand she clasped the ankh. Its angles pressing into her flesh dispelled a little of the fog.
“You’re absolutely right,” he murmured into her hair. “We shouldn’t make the mistake Anthony and Deanna made.”
Linnet pulled back just far enough to keep his lips from touching her, though she still felt his breath. “Mistake? Being together, you mean?”
“Yes. Dangerous.” His hand didn’t stop rubbing the back of her neck.
“Because that’s what made Nola send that guy to kill them.” She had to force out the words between gulps of air.
“Not only that.” He released her wrist and attacked the top buttons of her blouse.
“They were too young.”
“That’s one way to put it.” He nibbled from her earlobe down her throat to the exposed V above her brea
sts. Her nipples tightened and tingled.
She squeezed the ankh. “Max, stop!” This time he obeyed. When he looked straight at her, she thought she glimpsed crimson flecks in his eyes. Imagination. An effect of the dim light. “You’re saying the right words, but the tune doesn’t match.”
A hoarse laugh emanated from him. “True. Perhaps because I don’t believe the words as completely as I should. Nor do you. I feel the glow you radiate.” His hand skimmed over the front of her blouse, and she gasped with the electricity that sparked through her breasts. “And you respond in more obvious ways, as well.”
She squirmed out of his loose grip. “That doesn’t mean a thing. Just physiology. Automatic.” She might have sounded more convincing if she could have calmed her breathing.
“Yet you were the one who touched me first.”
“Well, like you said, big mistake.” She glared at him, fuming at her own eagerness to throw her arms around him and beg for another “taste.”
“I said it would be a mistake to get involved as Anthony and Deanna did. Unlike them, we aren’t too young. Surely we have the self-control to enjoy each other without such entanglements.” She couldn’t tell whether he was making a serious proposition or teasing her. The wry smile suggested the latter, but at the same time he extended a fingertip to circle her parted lips.
Sighing, Linnet lapped his finger with her tongue. He paused long enough for her lips to close around the fingertip. She gave it a gentle bite.
A gasp escaped him. Blushing at her own bizarre impulse, she opened her mouth and drew back. “I didn’t mean to do that. Really.” She would have suspected him of laughing at her if it hadn’t been for his ragged breathing. “That’s the most blatant proposal of a one-night stand I’ve ever heard. You must have a great opinion of your own talents.”
“You can judge my talents for yourself.”
Shaking her head, she clutched the pendant as if it held the last scrap of her sanity. “No, thanks, I want entanglement or nothing.”
