“I’m simply trying to get to the truth, Ms. Wilson.” He slipped back to formal terms, and to the title she always corrected him on. “If I’m to help you, you can’t hide anything from me. I have to know everything.”
“I told you before, I have no secrets.”
He caught her arm and whirled her around toward him. “The truth, Ms. Wilson,” he said firmly. “I have to know the truth about everything.”
“Ouch, you’re hurting me! And I am telling you the truth, for Heaven’s sake! What do you think I am, gay?” But as her wild accusation hit its mark and she saw the truth of his suspicions in dark hazel eyes, she gasped aloud. “You do! You actually think that I’m – that I’m ....Oh! The sheer audacity!” She was so angry that she could not even bring herself to say the words. All she could do was stomp her foot in anger as her voice came out in a shocked whisper.
Lange had never felt a bigger fool that he did at that moment. He loosened his hold on her arm, but he did not release her. He gazed down into her big blue eyes and awkwardly tried to apologize.
“I- I’m sorry, Ashli. I didn’t know, but I had to find out for sure. Your safety is at stake here.”
“How could you? How could you even think that?”
He stared down at her, wondering how he could explain it to her. What would happen if he admitted the truth, even to himself? The truth that he had to find something, anything, that would distance him from her, something that would stop him from starting to feel the things he was already beginning to feel? What if he told her she had been too perfect, too nearly the woman of his dreams, back when he still believed in dreams? If she had been gay, he would have been safe, his heart would have been safe. How could he explain that to her, when he didn’t understand it himself?
“As a private investigator, I have to explore every possibility,” he finally told her, his voice low.
“You were wrong,” she whispered simply.
His eyes slipped to her mouth and, for the millionth time, he wondered what it would be like to kiss her. One kiss, he told himself. One kiss would get this crazy craving out of his system, and he could get on with business. He moved his hand to her waist and drew her closer, his other hand touching her cheek. “There is only one way to know for certain,” he told her, his low voice almost a whisper.
They both knew the words were merely an excuse. Ashli could see the desire to kiss her in his eyes. Her own eyes drifted shut as he lifted her face upward toward his. Lange pulled her closer, until first their bodies touched, and then their lips. And as she melted into the warm strength of his arms and felt the wonder of his mouth move on hers, Ashli knew that their souls touched, as well.
It was a simple kiss, a gentle brush of one mouth against another, but it forged a connection between them. They pulled slowly apart, their bodies still close, and opened their eyes at the same time to stare at the other.
“I’m sorry, Ashli,” he told her, his low voice uneven. “But I had to ask. I had to know.”
“Do you - do you believe me?”
He watched her lips as they formed the words, lips that tasted sweeter than he had even dared to imagine. Trailing his fingers over her cheek, he curled them through the strands of sunshine and gently tugged her face closer. Just as his mouth settled onto hers once again, he breathed the words huskily against her lips. “Beyond the shadow of a doubt.”
This kiss was deeper, longer, hungrier. As one hand gloried in the long tresses of her hair, the other moved over her back, caressing her in its travels. His hand roamed over her freely, from her shoulder blades to the gentle swell of her hips. Lange moved in a circular pattern, each time pulling with just the slightest more pressure, each sweep pulling her just a bit nearer, until Ashli felt as if his magic fingers were pulling her into his very soul. Leaning on the solid wall of his chest for support, she circled her arms around his back.
When at last he raised his dark head, he looked down at her with a strange sorrow in his eyes. Almost in anguish, he released her suddenly and swore beneath his breath. His reaction was at sharp odds with the poignant kiss. A blurted confession of undying love would have been more suiting than the way he now turned coldly away from her.
Finally he spoke, his back still toward her. His voice was low and somber, but strong enough to carry across the room. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
Ashli made no comment.
“Damn it, Ashli, you hired me as your private investigator! This can’t happen between a detective and his client!” He swung around angrily, as if her silence was an argument.
Again she made no comment.
“Stop staring at me like that!” he commanded.
“Then stop yelling at me.” She finally spoke, her voice small.
Lange took a deep breath and reined in his anger, most of which was directed at himself. “Okay, I’m sorry that I yelled.” This time he spoke with tightly controlled volume.
“I don’t like to be yelled at.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“So please don’t yell at me again.”
It was all he could do to keep from yelling at her to just drop the subject. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his back jean pockets and glared silently at her.
“You can stop staring at me like that, too,” she said, lifting her chin. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Again, he wanted to yell at her and say that she had made him kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t true. He had wanted to kiss her more than he had even wanted to breathe. God, he still wanted to. She was standing there looking at him like a defiant little girl, but he knew it was a woman’s body that he held only moments ago.
He pulled his eyes away and forced himself to sound harsh. “No, but I did. I kissed you.”
“You don’t have to act like you contracted a disease, you know. It was only a kiss.”
“A kiss that won’t ever happen again.” He said the words so defiantly, they both could hear the lie.
They stood staring at one another in challenge for a long moment. Lange was the first to break the gaze, for all he could think about was how incredibly beautiful she was, and how wonderful she had felt pressed against him.
“Well, since we’ve gotten that out of the way....” she said briskly. “Maybe we can discuss my case. Have you learned anything new? Anything real?”
“I’ve watched you for almost a week now, and not once have I seen signs of anyone else doing the same. Have you heard anything else from him, seen him again?”
“No, not since the night you were here.” With a weary sigh, she went into the kitchen and began making coffee.
Lange followed and settled on a stool at the bar. “I found several vantage points where a person could sit and watch you from a distance. You’d never know you were being watched.”
“Except for the hairs on the back on my neck,” she reminded him.
He ignored that comment as he flipped open his little notebook. “Tell me about the bum behind the Tea Party.”
She looked up in surprise, not realizing he knew about her friend in the alley. It seemed the man had done his homework this time.
“His name is Leon,” she said, opening one of her trademark yellow boxes. She took out bacon-artichoke mini soufflés and pinwheel sandwiches. Dividing the offering on two plates she noisily rummaged through the cabinets for, she told him her story. “I found him out in the alley one day about six months ago, going through the trash. He ran away the first time, but I kept watching for him. When I saw that he was taking food, I realized he must be homeless. I waited behind the dumpster, until he came again and I could talk to him.”
“Do you know how stupid that was, waiting outside for a man like that? He could be dangerous!”
“Leon is as harmless as a fly. He’s a nice man, just down on his luck. Occasionally he finds an odd job or two, and when he does and he has the money, he leaves a few dollars for the food he takes.”
“You leave something for him every day?” he
asked incredulously, hand poised in mid-air as he devoured his second pinwheel.
“Well, I like to eat on a daily basis, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I don’t rely on the kindness of others to feed me!”
“You might would, if you didn’t have a home or a job. We never know what we would do in another person’s position. My mother told me to never judge another Indian, until I had walked a mile in his moccasins,” Ashli said in her soft, gentle voice.
“My grandmother always said the same thing,” Lange murmured before a look of irritation crossed his face. Aloud, he asked, “Is there any chance this Leon character could be the one stalking you?”
“No, I’m certain of it.”
“So far, you’ve been certain that no one you know could possibly be responsible, but someone is out there, Ashli. And I’d bet my last dollar you know the person.”
“Maybe so, but it’s no one we’ve discussed so far.”
“Then give me more names.”
Ashli sighed wearily. “Then what, Lange? Even if I give you the names of everyone I’ve ever known, what then? How do we know it’s not some anonymous viewer? And do I just sit back and wait for him to make another move?”
“My guess is that you won’t have to wait long.” He hesitated, then was honest with her. “I don’t want to alarm you, but I think you should be on your guard tonight. I think he might show up again.”
“Why? How can you tell?”
“It was Monday two weeks ago that you reported a Peeping Tom to the police. Monday of last week that you got the note. There might be a pattern emerging.”
She shivered visibly and hugged herself with both arms, losing her appetite.
“Is there someone who can come over and stay with you this evening? I would, but I have... plans.”
She wondered if the plans were with a woman. Looking into his face, she was certain of it. Ashli convinced herself that she did not care as she told him, “I was going out tonight. Ironically enough, I finally have a date.”
“I don’t think you should go,” he said hastily, and then wondered if his haste had more to do with his own jealousy than it did with her safety. But why on earth would he be jealous? He didn’t want a relationship with her. The kiss had meant nothing, absolutely nothing.
“I’m not going to stop living, just because someone is stalking me.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “So far they’ve never threatened me or done anything to harm me. I see no reason for tonight to be any different.”
“I don’t know...” he said uncertainly. He hated to say too much, or he might frighten her unnecessarily. Yet too little concern could prove dangerous for her, something he knew he could not bear.
“I’ll be fine, Lange. I won’t be out late. We’re just going for cocktails.”
“Who is it?” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded like a growl.
“A friend of Mitch’s. He’s in town for the week, and we’re meeting with Mitch and Allison for drinks.”
“Tell me his name, I’ll run it through the system.”
“Seriously? I just met him this morning. His name is Brandon something, and he’s from the network affiliate in Florida.”
“Look, just to be on the safe side, make sure you have my cell number. If you see anything suspicious or if anything happens, I want you to call me.” He handed her his business card, making her look at him. “Do you promise to call if you need me?”
She wondered how exactly he would define ‘need’. Right now, she desperately needed to feel his strong arms around her. She needed a hug. But instead of revealing the truth, she merely said, “I promise.”
“Okay, then I guess I really do need to go.” He glanced at his watch, knowing Diane was waiting. He tried to think of a reason to stall, a reason to stay here and forget his date with Diane and Ashli’s date with the Florida pretty boy, but he could think of none that sounded plausible. So he reluctantly stood and made his way to the door.
“Promise me you’ll be careful tonight,” he said lowly.
“I will.”
He stared down at her, wanting to take her in his arms and never let her go, wanting to stay and protect her, even if it meant staying forever. But the very thought scared the daylights out of him, making his dilemma all the harder. Should he protect his heart, or protect her safety? Failing at either could be disastrous.
“You have my number?” he finally asked.
“Right here.” She held up the proof.
“You’ll call if anything happens, anything at all?”
“I promise.” It was obvious that he was stalling, a fact that brought a smile to Ashli’s lips. “Go on, Lange. You deserve a night off, if you’ve spent the last week tailing me. I must be the most boring person in Richmond. Go out and have fun tonight. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
He would have argued with her, but he might be tempted to prove his point that she was hardly what he called boring. Just the thought of how he could prove it made his blood stir, and he knew he had to leave, the quicker, the better.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Well, that was.... interesting,” Diane McIver said as Lange rolled away and sat up in bed. Watching him closely through her tousled auburn hair, the woman beside him wondered what was bothering him tonight. It was obvious his mind had not been on making love, and certainly not on her.
“I’m sorry, Di,” he said, running both hands through his own dark hair. “I guess my mind is somewhere else tonight.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Out of habit, he turned his broad back to her and she began to massage the bunched muscles. She loved the feel of his skin beneath her hands, all hot and lean and tight.
“I have a new case I’m working on. My client thinks she’s being stalked.”
“What do you think?”
Lange released a long breath and admitted it for the first time aloud. “God, I’m afraid she might be right.”
Diane was silent for a moment, kneading the powerful muscles as she mulled over the distraught tone in his voice. That tone and his strange mood tonight did not leave her feeling very assured. “So what can you do about it?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know, but I swear I’ll find some way to protect her.”
Breath tangled in her suddenly aching chest, Diane managed to choke out the words, “Tell me about her.”
“She’s like a modern day version of Doris Day,” Lange said with a little laugh. He was unaware of the soft quality that slipped into his voice, but Diane heard it, and her heart broke. “I swear she sounds just like her, all hushed and breathless. Carries on like her, too, talking about things that don’t even make any sense, and all without taking a breath between thoughts. You should hear her.” He smiled and closed his eyes, thinking of how she carried on about the list of names she had given him, keeping him from getting a word in edgewise, all the while demanding he tell her what he knew.
“Doris Day was always your favorite old movie star, wasn’t she?” Diane said, trying desperately to keep her voice from cracking.
“I fell in love with her the very first time I saw her,” he murmured lazily as she continued to knead his back. It was a full moment before his eyes popped open and he clarified his statement. “Doris Day, I mean.”
Diane heard the guilt in his voice, even before he whirled around so she could see it in his eyes. She knew anyone moving that quickly and behaving that guiltily had something to hide, even if it was from themself. Her hands fell away and she moved back to rest against the headboard, pulling the sheet with her.
“Diane,” he said, and she instantly knew what was coming next. He sounded too casual, too nonchalant, yet he would not meet her eyes. “I’ve been thinking. Between this new case and the rest of my load, I’m going to be very busy for a while. I may not be able to see you much.”
“That’s nothing new,” Diane said quietly. “I’ll wait.”
“But that’s what I’ve been thinking about. It’s not f
air to you, Diane. Just like the other night, when I missed that dinner party with your client. And the next night. And the two times this week. You shouldn’t have to sit around, waiting on me. You should be free to make your own plans, without me messing them up.”
Diane let the words settle between them before she asked, “What’s her name, Lange? Who’s this new client?”
“Since when did you start caring about my clientele?” he asked, reaching for his jeans from a nearby chair.
“Since when did you start caring if this relationship was fair to me?” she shot back. “You’ve been coming and going like the wind for almost two years now.”
Lange paused as he stood to pull on his pants. Not bothering to zip the jeans out of false modesty, he turned toward her and raised a dark shaggy brow. “Come on, Diane, we’ve been friends for too long to pretend this relationship was based on only my needs.”
“You’re right, of course. But what if I told you I wanted to make our relationship more permanent?”
Lange fastened his jeans and pulled on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he sat down on the bed to face her. His smile was one of affection as he told her with the honesty she once loved, but was now growing to hate, “Diane, you are one of the few people that I call a friend. But you know it’s too late for our relationship to ever be any more than it is right now.”
“Because of her?” Her voice wavered with unshed tears.
Lange hesitated before answering. He and Diane had always been honest with one another, and he saw no reason to start lying now. He couldn’t even lie to himself anymore. “Not entirely,” he said. “But I do have to admit, she makes me remember feelings inside that I thought had died with Lauren. I’m not ready to have that sort of relationship again, not yet, but I’m no longer willing to settle for something less.”
“So you’re just walking away?” This time her voice was harsh.
Lange sighed. Diane and her mood swings. She had gone from heartbroken to hateful in less than sixty seconds. So much for amicable break-ups, the kind Ashli claimed to have.
“I’ll still be around, if you need me.”
He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not Page 6
