by Rita Herron
What would it be like to have a man like Raul love her the way he had obviously loved this woman? To commit in marriage and want her to have his child?
The door screeched open, and she glanced up and saw Raul standing in the doorway. He wore clean jeans and was buttoning up a white shirt, his bare chest peeking through the top. He’d shaved, his hair was still damp, his dark eyes skating over her as if he’d read her thoughts.
Then he zeroed in on the picture, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “What are you doing with that?”
She almost flinched at his tone but held herself in check. “This must have been your wife. She was beautiful, Raul.”
His gaze met hers, and he jerked the picture from her hands and placed it back on the shelf. “Yes, she was.”
“I know that you loved her—”
“I don’t want to talk about my wife,” he said brusquely.
She reached for his arm, wanting to soothe his pain, to offer her friendship. “It might help if you did.”
His eyes glittered dangerously. “Can you bring her back?”
“No,” she said gently. “But I could help you work through your grief.”
“I told you not to shrink me.” He grabbed his holster from where he’d put it on the end table. “Now come on. I have a murder case to investigate. And another family to tell that their child is dead.”
His words brought back a reminder of the day they faced, that her own feelings didn’t matter.
That they needed to find this killer before another girl lost her life.
RAUL SILENTLY BERATED himself for his harshness, but dammit, he couldn’t talk about Anita. Not to Jenny.
Especially Jenny. The first woman he’d physically wanted since his wife had died. And hell he did want her.
In the shower he’d been thinking of Jenny, not Anita. Jenny’s supple curves, her long legs. That mane of beautiful golden hair. How he’d wanted her to join him.
But seeing his wife’s photograph in her hand triggered his guilt to resurface, made his lustful thoughts seem wrong, as if he was betraying his wife by even thinking about another woman.
During the drive to her house, the tension between them escalated. When they arrived, she excused herself and hurried up the steps, and he heard the water kick on upstairs.
Unbidden came images of her removing her clothes, stepping naked into the shower, the water cascading over her breasts and trickling down her stomach and thighs. His body hardened, the desire to join her heating his blood.
He needed tension release. Needed to hold a warm body. Needed to feel the pleasure of pumping himself inside a woman.
Jenny. Dammit, he wanted her. He was even starting to like her. To admire her.
Which made his hunger mount.
He strode outside to the porch and gripped the rail, staring at the early-morning sun as it broke the horizon. He might want Jenny Madden, but there was no way in hell he was going to have her. His wife had died because of him.
He wouldn’t take the chance on caring about anyone again.
Satisfied that he’d reined in his feelings, he stepped back inside. But upstairs he heard crying.
She’d held it together during the crime scene investigation, intended to counsel the family and others, but she was suffering herself now. He couldn’t tolerate hearing her in pain.
He strode up the steps, but paused inside her bedroom. Her clothes lay on the bed, and the bathroom door stood ajar. Steam oozed through the doorway, her anguished sobs wrenching his gut, and he clutched his hands into fists, debating over what to do. Maybe she wanted to be alone.
Or maybe she needed holding. Soothing. To lean on someone else for a change.
“Jenny?”
He inched inside the doorway and found her standing naked on the floormat. She gasped when she saw him, her body trembling. Even red-faced with swollen eyes, she was more beautiful than he’d dreamed. High full breasts doused with water. Nipples rosy and extended. Curves that made his sex throb with renewed desire and sent erotic sensations to his groin.
“Raul?”
“Shh, it’s okay.” He removed the towel from the rack, unfolded it and wrapped it around her. Her lower lip quivered, and he pulled her in his arms. She fell against him, and he clutched her, stroking her back as she spent her emotions.
JENNY HATED TO SHOW any weakness, but she couldn’t resist allowing Raul to cradle her in his arms. Like a frayed piece of cloth ripping apart at the seams, she was coming apart from the inside out. Her mother, her brother, her clients, the girls’ deaths—why couldn’t she save them?
She’d studied human behavior, lectured on various psychological disorders and written numerous papers, yet the very people she cared about were hurting.
Raul’s arms felt so strong and comforting, his body enveloping hers as if to protect her from the pain and helplessness welling inside her. She needed that reprieve, if only for a moment.
How long had it been since she’d had a man hold her?
She couldn’t even remember.
And not just any man, but this tough, strong, soldier for justice who struggled each day with his own demons, who fought the violence even though he’d personally lost so much to it already.
He stroked her back and murmured calming words of comfort, and like a drowning woman, she burrowed into his chest, taking solace in the deep breaths racking him as he embraced her.
Slowly the tension dissipated in her shoulders and neck, and he lifted her chin with his thumb, then wiped her tears away with his finger. Her gaze met his, and something changed between them. Another kind of tension simmered to life, stirring sensations in her belly and a warmth that seeped through her blood. His dark eyes flickered with hunger, and his hands cupped her face, the tenderness in the gesture making her heart clench.
She wanted to kiss him. Desperately wanted a taste of the hard tough man. Wanted his hands stroking other places, assuaging the loneliness that made her ache at night when she crawled into bed alone.
As if he sensed her needs, raw passion glinted in his eyes, and he lowered his head and kissed her. He tasted like sin and rugged male, the touch of his tongue coaxing her lips apart, sending a spark of white-hot heat streaking through her. She welcomed him inside, moaning as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth and fused their lips together. Boldly he deepened the kiss, skimming his hands down her shoulders, over her back, to her waist and hips where he pulled her closer against him. His hard length stroked her belly, pulsing with need, and she raked her hands into his hair, panting as he flicked his tongue along the sensitive skin of her neck.
She threw her head back, allowing him access, and his lips sucked at her skin, her body tingling with the need for more. To be touched everywhere. To have him inside her.
Only the towel stood between them.
That and their jobs.
But she couldn’t think why that should matter, not when he trailed tongue lashes toward the curve of her breasts and his hands molded them in his palms. Her nipples tightened, and she ran her foot along his calf, hearing the rasp of his jeans as she stroked him.
She wanted his clothes off, to feel his bare chest under her hands. She reached for his shirt, felt the towel loosen at her breasts, then felt it falling to the ground. Cool air brushed her flesh, and she shivered.
He stepped back to look at her, and the smoldering look in his eyes roused her deepest desires. She’d never asked a man to make love to her, but she wanted to now.
“Raul…”
“Damn.” Suddenly the hunger in his eyes changed, and regret set in. “I…we can’t do this.”
Hurt and humiliation stung her cheeks, and she reached for the towel.
Why had he stopped? Was he comparing her to his wife and finding her lacking?
RAUL RECOGNIZED the hurt in Jenny’s expression, but he didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry. I…overstepped my bounds.”
“No,” she said softly. “I wanted you—”
Jenny grabbed her robe and dragged it on, her gaze meeting his, hurt but resigned. “I understand.”
Pain laced her voice, and he hated himself for putting it there, but how could he explain? Nothing should have ever happened between them. Nothing ever could.
She brushed past him, went to her closet and began digging through it to find her clothes.
God, he was a bastard.
He stepped to the door, had to convince her that he was trying to do what was right. But she was pulling on underwear, these damn red lace panties, and he knew he had to leave or he’d take her right there in the closet.
Fists clenched, he rushed down the steps, then hurried outside. Heat suffused him, the sun glinting off the grass as he sucked in calming breaths. He’d done the right thing. Had to walk away and keep things professional. He had no right to have her or to want her so badly.
A van rolled up and parked, an older man with scruffy clothes and a limp climbing out. The man glanced up and saw him, then threw up a hand, retrieved a tool box and lumbered up the steps.
“Who are you?” Raul asked.
“Name’s Ralph Martin. Dr. Madden hired me to do work around here.”
“Good morning, Ralph,” Jenny said behind him. “Come on in and get started. I was just leaving for work.”
He lumbered in, and Jenny brushed past with her laptop and purse. She didn’t look at him, simply headed toward her car.
“I could drive you,” Raul offered.
“No, thanks, I’ll need my car later.”
Her voice was so icy that his gut clenched. Hating to leave with the strain between them, he closed the distance to her and laid his hand over hers on the door handle.
“Jenny, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.”
She lifted her head, and emotions flickered in her eyes. “It’s my fault, Raul. I know that you were married, that you loved your wife. That you had to compare me to her and find me lacking.”
His mind reeled. “Is that what you think?”
She shrugged off his hand, tried to open the door but he held it shut and turned her to face him. “You think you’re flawed?”
“I’ve been rejected before, Raul. Even my father walked away,” she rasped. “I’ll get over it.”
So now she was filing him in the same category as her no-good deserting father. And probably the men in her groups. That pained him more than he wanted to admit.
She cleared her throat, her delicate voice vibrating with hurt, but still she jutted that little chin up. Showed courage and strength. “Now, let’s get to work.”
He gripped her tighter, determined to force her to listen. “You’re wrong, Jenny. I didn’t pull away because I was thinking of my wife or comparing her to you.” His voice was hard, his own pain raw.
The confusion he felt was mirrored in her eyes, that and a vulnerability that threatened to bring him to his knees. “Then why did you stop?” she whispered.
He cleared his throat, fought the gut-churning need to kiss her again and forget his guilt and reservations.
“Raul? Please, I need to know why you don’t want me.”
“I do want you,” he admitted tightly.
“I don’t understand.”
“You made me forget about my wife,” he said in a gruff voice. “When I held you, kissed you, felt your body in my arms, I forgot everything but how much I wanted you.” His voice cracked. “I haven’t wanted a woman since that fatal night Anita died, but dammit, I wanted you, Jenny. Not her, but you.”
“Raul—”
“But that’s wrong. I have to remember or else Anita died for nothing.”
Jenny lifted a hand to his cheek. The touch was so gentle his chest throbbed with the need for her tenderness. “She loved you, Raul. She would want you to go on and find happiness.”
Anger and guilt stabbed at him, draining him of thought. “She wanted to be my wife, to have my baby and raise our child. So how can I be happy knowing that I’m responsible for both their deaths?”
She started to speak again, but he cut her off. He’d revealed too much already. “I can’t let it go, Jenny. It’s what I am now, it drives me to do my job. And that’s all I have left.”
His cell phone rang and he quickly connected the call.
“Cortez, it’s Keegan. The victim’s parents are on their way to the station.”
“Dr. Madden and I will be right there.” He hung up and relayed the news, and Jenny agreed to meet him at the precinct.
Knowing that if he didn’t leave, he might succumb to his baser needs, he turned and stalked to his car. When he drove away, he didn’t look back.
He’d have to see Jenny at the hospital, have to work with her. But there would be no more kisses. No getting naked together and sating his desires.
Only work to fuel the guilty rage eating at him.
HIS BODY HAD HARDENED as he’d sat in front of the camera and watched Jenny undress in her bedroom. She was exquisite. A helluva lot prettier than Eleanor with her dimpled legs and meek little mouth.
Jenny had curves, sweet soft curves that dipped and flared in all the right places. Skin that looked like cream and a mouth that would taste like honey. Breasts that would spill over his palms, and a throat that begged for his hands to slide around it.
He’d thought she was different, too, that she wasn’t a whore. That she cared about people, cared about him.
But she was just like the others. She’d practically thrown herself at that detective, had offered herself to him without shame. Even when he’d pushed her away, Jenny had stepped forward, wanted him. Her body had revealed her secrets. Her distended nipples. Her quivering voice. Her ragged breathing.
She would quiver and pant for him when he took her. She’d cry his name and beg him to finish.
Then he’d kill her.
Chapter Ten
Raul and Jenny entered the station together, their earlier encounter still taunting him. He had to steer his mind back on track. Work was the only way to save himself and the women in town.
Captain Black met him as they entered, and he and Jenny followed him to his office.
“We’re having a briefing in a few minutes,” Black said.
“And I’ve called a press conference. I don’t want to create panic, but people are starting to wonder what we’re doing to catch this guy. And we have to issue a warning to the women in Savannah.”
A noise jarred them, and a middle-aged man and woman rushed in, looking frantic and worried. Raul exchanged a look with Black, then Jenny, and a silent understanding passed between them. Nothing they could say could alleviate the couple’s anguish.
Captain Black’s phone rang so he turned to answer it, and Raul greeted the couple.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, I’m Detective Cortez. Please step into my office.”
The wife leaned on her husband, a tissue in her hands. Raul insisted they sit down, and Jenny followed them in and claimed a seat beside Mrs. Stevens.
“You found Eleanor, didn’t you?” the husband asked.
Raul braced himself. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid we did.” He paused, his tone grave. “I’m sorry to have to inform you, but she’s dead.”
“Oh, God, I knew it….” Mrs. Stevens broke down and began to sob, and the husband jumped up and paced to the door then leaned against it, his head bowed.
“I knew Eleanor, she was a wonderful nurse.” Jenny gathered the sobbing woman into her arms and held her, relaying the staff’s affection and respect for her daughter.
Mr. Stevens turned to him, tears glittering in his eyes, but his jaw was set as if determined to be a Rock of Gibraltar for his wife. “What happened?”
This part was even more difficult. Jenny gave him a sympathetic look, and he began. “I’m sorry, but she was strangled, Mr. Stevens.”
Anger flamed the father’s face. “You’re talking about that serial killer, aren’
t you? That damn psycho got my daughter.” Stevens grabbed Raul by the collar. “Why haven’t you found him before now? What in the hell are you cops doing?” His voice cracked, all calmness disintegrating. “If you had him off the streets, my girl would be alive.”
Raul pried Stevens’s hands loose, but tempered his tone. “I understand your anger, sir, but trust me when I say we’re doing everything possible to find this man.”
“It’s not enough,” Stevens barked.
“Can we see our baby?” Mrs. Stevens rasped.
“I’ll talk to the M.E.,” Raul said. “But I need to ask you some questions first.”
“Why?” Mr. Stevens snapped. “You should be out hunting down this killer—”
“Mr. Stevens,” Jenny interrupted. “It’s important that we know everything about Eleanor’s friends and schedule. She may have been abducted by someone she knew, someone she was dating or a recent acquaintance.”
Mrs. Stevens sniffed, then pleaded with her husband to sit back down. “We’ll help you any way we can.”
Raul nodded. This woman was every bit as strong as her husband. It was a good thing, too, because he understood firsthand how grief and anger could destroy a person.
Jenny’s compassion sent a sliver of warmth through him, erasing the chill in his body, a chill he’d had ever since Anita’s death.
Yet Jenny had made him feel alive again, had made him want a relationship. And that scared him more than anything. He wanted to stay dead.
Because as long as he was dead inside, he couldn’t feel that kind of pain again.
SYMPATHY AND FRUSTRATION knotted Jenny’s shoulders as she watched Raul question the couple. Unfortunately their daughter had moved into her own apartment, hadn’t mentioned dating anyone or received any threats.
“I’m going to search Eleanor’s apartment, and confiscate her computer,” Raul told them. “Maybe something will turn up there to give us a lead.”
“Please find him,” Mrs. Stevens implored.
