Nowhere to Hide

by Terry Odell

  “Thanks.” He logged off the machine. And gritted his teeth as he walked back to Schaeffer’s office to grovel for some more time.

  With raised eyebrows, Schaeffer tapped his watch when Graham walked in.

  “Sir, I have a hard copy, but it’s at home. There were some problems with my computer and I can’t guarantee my original is still there. With all due respect, I’m serious about the job and would never take it lightly. I think my work to date has shown that.”

  Schaeffer’s face relaxed a little. “It seemed out of character. I’ll take your written report tomorrow. For now give it to me verbally.”

  Graham took a deep breath and started talking.

  By Friday, Graham had talked with IT, changed his password, and made sure he printed hard copies and hand delivered all his reports to Schaeffer. He pushed aside his anger, the same way he had with the fallout from Proctor. If the detectives wanted to see him squirm, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He reviewed what he had one more time.

  Kimberly had finally agreed to file an official missing persons report, which lent credibility to his investigation and gave him a little more leeway.

  The Gainesville detectives were busy, the St. Johns ME was backlogged, and so far, the best he had was that almost all the prints in Doris’ house had been identified as either hers or those of her friends. The unknowns were still unknown, which meant whoever they belonged to didn’t have a record. Colleen’s apartment had hers, Doris’, and a few unknowns as well.

  Townsend’s truck was almost at the top of the list, according to the lab. He knew cases didn’t get wrapped up in an hour like on television, but he didn’t realize how many steps there were, and how each one added another delay. No word from the Fire Marshal.

  Judges wanted physical evidence. No crime, no foul, no warrant. If he ever heard the words “probable cause” again, he’d probably deck whoever uttered them.

  He gave one final check of e-mails and faxes before end of shift. His pulse picked up when he saw a message from the ME in St. Johns, but all it contained was the tox screen results on Townsend. Negative. He shut down, packed up, and called it a week. He drove home, spirits lifting as he anticipated seeing Colleen.

  She’d suggested an early movie at Universal’s City Walk. He’d brought up dinner afterward. She’d been noncommittal. No matter. He’d revisit that one after the movie.

  After showering and shaving, he lined a metal tin with waxed paper, layered two dozen chocolate and butterscotch chip cookies he’d baked the night before between yet more paper and sealed the lid. Flowers? He glanced at his watch. No time. The cookies would have to do. He dashed back to the bathroom, swished some mouthwash and tried to keep from laughing. He hadn’t been this nervous since his junior prom, when he thought Melinda Sue might let him get past second base. She hadn’t. What did that bode for tonight?

  Stop. It’s a movie. You’re not going to make any moves on Colleen. So what if you’ll be sitting in the dark next to someone who keeps you hard as a rock. Deal with it.

  Graham stood on the tiles of Colleen’s entry and rang the bell, drumming his fingers on the cookie tin as he waited for her to open the door. His heart skipped when he heard the deadbolt being released, and he couldn’t keep the idiot grin off his face. When she pulled the door open, he handed her the cookies and stood there, taking her in. She wore soft brown slacks and a deep green blouse. The swell of her breasts where she’d left the top two buttons undone trapped him. Forcing his eyes away, he noticed her bare feet.

  “Hi,” she said. “What’s this?”

  “What?” God, he couldn’t remember ever being tongue tied like this. “Cookies. How have you been?”

  “Busy.” She started to carry the tin to the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit for a minute?” She tilted her head toward the couch, and he crossed the room.

  He absorbed the strain etched into her face, the dark circles under her eyes, the way her freckles stood out against too-pale skin, and a hollowness in her cheeks as if she’d dropped several pounds. He bit back the urge to ask what was wrong. Never tell a woman she doesn’t look good, no matter what. That much held for the entire gender, he knew.

  “What exactly have you been doing?” He watched her pry open the tin and sniff the cookies.

  “Mmm. Thanks. Dessert.” She closed the tin again and set it on the table. “It’s a medical convention. Basically, I type in data from their registration forms and print name badges. Biggest challenge is deciphering their writing.” She stifled a yawn and sat down on the far end of the couch.

  “You decide on the movie?” he asked.

  “I meant to ask you about that.” She played with her fingers but didn’t drop her gaze. “Would you mind terribly if we skipped it? Nothing excited me and I thought maybe …”

  He waited, but she didn’t go on. “We don’t have to see a movie.” Was she going to cancel? “You want to get some dinner, make it an early evening?”

  “I’m not very hungry.”

  “Then tell me what you want, Colleen. I’ll do whatever you say.”

  “Kiss me.”

  His heart leaped and he almost asked her to repeat it, but when he met her eyes, he knew he’d heard her properly, and it had taken every bit of her courage to ask. He slid across the couch and framed her face with his hands. Her pulse throbbed at her temples. He brushed his lips across her eyelids, one at a time, and then kissed each cheek. She smelled fresh, like citrus. When his mouth moved down to cover hers, he tasted peppermint. Her head tilted up, and she pressed her lips against his, digging with her tongue. Hot, probing, searching for something.

  Her hands reached behind his neck, grabbed his hair, and pulled his mouth against hers with a fierce passion that left him gasping. Did she know what she was doing? What was he supposed to do? Panting, he broke away.

  Her eyes glistened. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. You’ve taken over my life and I want you. Need you.” She was trembling.

  “God, Colleen. I want this. I want you too. But I have to know you mean it. That it’s going to be right.”

  “I’ve thought of nothing else all week.”

  He pulled her across his lap and stroked her back. “I’m honored.” Damn it, he vowed to find the control to make it good for her. “Let’s take it slow, though, okay? There’s no hurry.”

  She wiped her fingers under her eyes. “There’s wine in the fridge. And some cheese. I forgot. I had this all planned, and then you were standing at the door, and my brain froze.”

  “You stay here. I’ll get the wine.”

  She jumped up. “That’s all right. I’ve got some crackers to go with the cheese. And some dip.”

  He followed her to the kitchen and took a seat at the table. She opened a bottle of white wine, poured two glasses and set them in front of him. This was followed by a platter of three varieties of cheese with a bowl of some kind of dip in the center and a small plate of baby carrots, celery, and red bell pepper slices. She opened a box of water crackers and poured them onto a large plate, then reached for a box of Triscuits.

  “Take it easy,” he said. “I’m sure one box of crackers is enough for the two of us.”

  “Are you sure? I didn’t know what you liked and there were so many different kinds—”

  “This is plenty.” He lifted his glass.

  Colleen touched her glass to his. “What are we toasting?”

  “I’m sure I’ve generations of Irish ancestors turning over in their graves, but I’m speechless.”

  She took a sip of her wine and reached for a cracker. That citrus scent floated up again.

  “You smell delicious,” he said. “What perfume are you wearing?”

  She furrowed her brows, puzzled. “Oh. I guess it’s my after bath stuff. Jean Naté. I don’t use regular perfume.”

  He dunked a bit of pepper into the dip. “Dill. It’s good.”

  “Damn!” She jumped down from her perch and yanked open a drawer in the kitchen. “I
forgot to light the candles.” She grabbed a box of matches and headed toward the living room.

  With an ache in his chest, he set his wine glass down and intercepted her. “Relax. I’ll get the food, you bring the wine and let’s sit for a while. I’ll bore you with my week, and we’ll play the rest by ear.”

  When they’d transferred everything to the coffee table and she’d lit three pillar candles, he insisted she have some cheese and crackers with her wine. A cinnamon scent filled the air.

  “You don’t look like you’ve been eating,” he said, “and I don’t want you drunk.”

  “I seem to find my appetite when you’re around.” She took another cracker, piled more cheese on it and ate. “Okay, so bore me with your week. Can’t be any duller than babysitting a bunch of gastric surgeons, not to mention the average age of my coworkers is about seventy-five.”

  He finished a piece of cheese before he spoke. “No hits on the prints from Doris’ house, or here. Yours, hers, and a couple of unknowns.” He grinned. “And mine, but I eliminated myself as a suspect.”

  “Maybe the Roadrunner cable guy. He was here before the break-in. I still haven’t talked to Doris, and I’ve been working long hours, but nothing seems to be going on. Anything else?”

  “No warrants without probable cause and there’s no crime on this end yet. Gainesville promised to fax me copies of everything, the ME can’t tell me much more than the tox screen was negative, so Townsend was clean when he died.”

  “What about the fire? Was it arson?”

  “Still waiting on that, too.”

  “Anything from the truck?”

  He shook his head, pleased that talking about his work seemed to calm her. He decided to leave out the part about the sabotage of his report. “Not yet. Lab’s backed up. Maybe I’ll have something Monday.” He sipped his wine. “Nice. Sauvignon Blanc?”

  “You like it? It’s nothing like what we had at the Thai place. I wasn’t sure you’d like a white.”

  “This is perfect, Colleen.” He set his glass down and took hers. After placing it next to his, he kissed her fingertips. She closed her eyes and she exhaled so deeply he wondered how long it had been since her last breath.

  “Come here.” He pulled her against him. “Relax. You don’t have to do this. Not if you don’t want to.”

  She left her head buried in his shirt. “I want to. But I’m a little scared.”

  “If you’re scared, Colleen, maybe you’re not ready.”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m scared I’ll do … something wrong. Something stupid. You’re so … experienced, and I’ll end up making a fool of myself. But I want to. With you. Really.”

  “Look me in the eye and say that.”

  She met his gaze, and hers didn’t falter. “I want to. With you. Tonight.”

  He took a steadying breath. “Well, I know what to do, so as long as one of us does, we should be fine.”

  She arched her head back, and he kissed her jaw line, moved down along her neck. He reached up and released her hair, letting it stream over his fingers.

  She sighed and reached for his head again. “Kiss me.”

  He nibbled her lower lip, pressed his mouth over hers, and she devoured him. He fought for control, determined to back off at the first sign she didn’t want this. That she was afraid her inexperience would somehow ruin things. At the moment, he couldn’t imagine how.

  Her tongue danced over every part of his mouth, entwined with his. Whatever her inexperience, it didn’t include kissing. Her fingers in his hair sent shivers down his back. With one hand, he pulled her head to his and, with the other, he sought the curve of her breasts. He ran his fingertips over their firm softness, enjoying the way she wriggled against his touch. One by one, he opened the buttons on her blouse, sliding the garment over her shoulders. Tucking his fingers beneath the lace cups of her bra, he rubbed her already taut nipples to even firmer peaks, never stopping his kisses.

  Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of the waistband of his slacks. He groaned as her fingers brushed his painfully hard cock. He searched for the clasp that released her bra, at last freeing those wonderful breasts. His fingertips slid down her arms as he slipped her blouse off, then the bra. She shuddered. He shifted her so she was lying down, then knelt beside the couch. Her eyes opened, held questions.

  “Relax,” he whispered. “Are you all right with this?”

  “Yes. Yes. Don’t stop.”

  His mouth replaced his fingers at her breast, and he suckled, felt the nipple stiffen even harder. Scraped with his teeth. Tiny moans escaped her lips, and she arched to meet him.

  He heard the quickening of her breathing, saw her eyelids flicker. Tried to ignore the pressure building inside him.

  Concentrate on her. Forget yourself.

  He moved to her other breast and started again. He could lose himself in her breasts. Warm, soft, the thought of them was enough to teeter him on the brink. Her hands caressed his back, stroking, clutching, scraping.

  He slid his hands behind her head, ran his fingers through her hair, damp near her scalp. He covered her lips with his again, giving kisses, taking kisses. He heard her soft whimpering, felt her start to writhe. His fingers traced the contours of her torso, from her collarbone to her waist. Kisses followed his fingers. He savored her scent, her taste. When she groaned, he moved his lips back to her mouth, found her waistband with his fingers and worked the button free. He fumbled with the zipper, and Colleen’s hands pushed his away as she yanked the two halves apart and raised her hips to remove her slacks.

  “Let me,” he said and he slid them down her legs, following their downward journey with more kisses.

  She flinched when his lips touched her scar. He stroked the dimpled flesh. “No, mo chridhe. This is part of who you are. Never be ashamed.” He kissed and caressed her there until she relaxed. “It’s a badge of honor. Wear it proudly.”

  He reached between her thighs, cupped her through the fabric of her panties, now damp and hot. Her hands rode faster up and down his back. She reached for him, tried to pull him onto the couch atop her.

  “Wait,” he said. Her eagerness was stretching his control to the limit. “There’s no hurry. You concentrate on you.” He increased the pressure at her crotch, squeezing, rubbing.

  She groaned in response, and he moved his hand inside her panties to tease those soft curls between her thighs. She shifted to take him, and he slid his finger into that hot, wet, silky place. Fondled the spot that made her hips move to meet his strokes. Slowly at first, then faster, and she moved with him, went where he took her.

  His mouth roamed from breast to breast, up to her lips, and back to her breasts. He watched her face, head back, eyes half shut, lips parted, breath ragged. His fingers moved faster and he saw a flash of green when her eyes snapped open as her hips bucked and she cried out.

  Her eyes closed. She shuddered and lay still, except for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and brushed the damp hair from her face. Her hand reached for him even before her eyes opened and she ran her fingers across his forehead.

  “Wow,” she said. Her eyes opened slowly, then widened. “But … you. You never … you didn’t … Aren’t you …?”

  “Shh. I told you there was no hurry. Are you all right?”

  She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in the hollow above his collarbone. He felt her tongue, her teeth and he stifled a groan. Her lips moved up to take his, kissing him, nibbling, probing. Her fingers played through his hair, stroked behind his ears.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Shall we move to the bedroom?”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Colleen didn’t want to let go of the feeling—totally exhilarated and relaxed at the same time. She wanted more. Wanted to please Graham. She finally released him and pushed herself to a sitting position.

  “I think I can walk now,” she said.

  He stood and offered hi
s hand. Daylight had faded, and the flickering candlelight bounced shadows around the room. She reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and wrapped herself in it. Refusing his hand, she got up and moved around the room, blowing out the candles.

  “Don’t need a fire,” she said. He remained by the couch, his hair tousled, his shirt untucked, his desire obvious. She took his hand and led him to her bedroom. Pulling back the covers, she inhaled the scent of the freshly washed sheets she’d put on the bed that afternoon. When she turned, he stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless, barefoot and his hands at his belt. Waiting. Giving her a last chance to change her mind.

  In response, she unwrapped the blanket and let it fall to the floor. She watched the rise and fall of his chest. Saw the bulge in his briefs when he let his trousers drop. She still wore her panties, and he left his briefs on when he climbed onto the bed.

  Her heart raced. Her entire body flamed. What was she supposed to do? Graham lay propped on one elbow, waiting, and when she curled up beside him, he rolled onto his back and pulled her toward him.

  She pillowed her head on his chest, letting her brain meander back to a semblance of coherence. His heart throbbed beneath her ear, and the coarse hair on his chest tickled her nose. When he’d sent her over that cliff, it was as if nothing else existed. Already, desire welled again. She was sated, yet hungry. Her naked breasts came in contact with his bare skin, and heat coursed through her. His hands stroked her back, cupped her buttocks. It seemed as if her body centered itself on whatever he touched. His touch became her universe.

  But what about him? Locker room conversations of conquests and prowess swirled through the back of her mind. She’d heard plenty of sex talk, but this was something else. Well, she’d made it clear she was inexperienced. She inched her fingers down his chest, fingering his nipples the way he’d touched hers. He moved enough to fondle her breasts in return. She couldn’t help but gasp as the pleasure surged through her.

  Tentatively, she slid her hand lower, reached his underwear. She touched him through the cotton, felt his heat and the hardness of his erection. Ran her fingers over its length. He moaned and took her wrist.