by Robin Caroll
She jerked back, pressing her fingers to her mouth. Layla blinked several times. Without another word, she turned and sped up the stairs to her house.
He couldn't breathe. She'd stolen the air right from his lungs. He could only stare after her as she unlocked the door and pushed inside.
If Maddox had ever had any doubt that he was falling for her, that one kiss had cleared it up for him.
He'd never felt this way about any woman. Never let himself feel like this. But somehow, some way, she'd slipped past every one of his defense mechanisms.
Layla Taylor had him—hook, line, and sinker.
He was a goner.
THIRTY
"Faced with what is right, to leave it undone shows a lack of courage."
—CONFUCIUS
STUPID. JUST PLAIN STUPID.
How could she have kissed him?
Layla shuddered. She had no business kissing Maddox, or any man. Wasn't her life complicated enough right now without adding in the mess of a romantic entanglement? If only the kiss hadn't been so mind-numbing. Hadn't felt so . . . right.
And seeing Randy tonight, why had she ever thought she was in love with him? He'd made her feel less like a woman. Unlike Maddox. He made her feel safe. And very, very feminine.
No, she wouldn't consider the ramifications right now. Not while her knees still felt as gooey as the edges of the bayou.
She rushed inside, her hands trembling so bad she'd had to try to get the key in the lock four times before she'd got it right. Everything in her felt jumbled. Disjointed.
All because of one kiss.
But, wow, what a kiss!
She groaned and stormed to the kitchen. She yanked up the cordless and accessed her voice mail. Two messages from Alana. Cameron was stable and the doctors at the Baton Rouge hospital gave a more hopeful prognosis. The police had picked up the phone, and Alana asked about Mom.
Layla deleted the messages and moved to put on a pot of coffee. Anything to keep busy, or at least appear so, when Maddox entered. She'd pushed the door almost closed when she entered, but he hadn't followed yet.
Was he regretting kissing her? Why did he kiss her? They were arguing about Randy and her not staying in the car, then the next thing she knew, she was in his arms.
And she'd never felt so comfortable in a man's embrace.
She let out a moan and bent, resting her elbows on the counter and shoving her forehead against her palms. What was she doing? God, I'm so confused. A little help, please?
The coffeemaker let out a shot of steam, then clicked to percolating. Another car sounded in her drive. Houston.
What would Maddox tell his partner? Things would definitely be odd between Maddox and her. Houston would notice. Would he say something? How would she answer?
She straightened. What if the kiss meant nothing to Maddox? What if he didn't bother mentioning it to Houston because it was no big deal to him? Was she making something out of nothing?
Kissing wasn't something she just went around doing. She didn't even kiss on a first date. Yet here she was, kissing Maddox in her front yard never having been on a date with him. Not really knowing him.
She was so messed up. Maybe she should forego the coffee and head straight to bed.
The door creaked as it opened, and Houston stepped inside. "Hey, Layla."
Turning, she pasted on a plastic smile. "Hi. I'm making coffee."
He slumped into a kitchen chair. "I need it." He stuck a piece of gum into his mouth.
Maddox hovered by the back door facing the bayou, his back to her. Good, because the heat already burned her face. If he looked at her, she'd turn beet red from embarrassment.
"Listen, I want to run something by you. See if you have any ideas." Houston motioned her to join him at the table.
She glanced at Maddox's straight back, then moved to sit across from Houston. "I'll try. Whatcha got?"
"The CDC specialist has diagnosed the mystery illnesses as sulfur poisoning."
What?
"He also believes the source of the contaminant is the church."
This was unbelieva—
"But since we can't get in there now to see, we were wondering if maybe you could think of anything that could cause sulfur poisoning. You oversaw the renovations just months ago, so maybe you can think of something."
Way out of her league. She wasn't a chemist or a scientist, just a contractor. She wouldn't kno—
"Anything at all. Even if it's out in left field."
"Hang on. Let me think for a minute."
The smell of rotten eggs. The corroded copper pipes and tubings. Something was there, something she knew, just outside the edges of her memory.
Maddox turned, facing her. He hovered over her, his expression unreadable. "Layla, if you know something, now's the time to tell—"
"Shh. I'm thinking. Give me a second to work it out."
Stink. Corrosion. Think. What was it? She knew something about this. She'd read an article— "The article." She jumped up, nearly knocking over the kitchen chair. "Hang on."
She raced to her desk in her bedroom and tugged on the bottom drawer where she kept all her back issues of magazines. Which one? She flipped through the indexes, scanning for the article.
"What are you doing?"
She started, then frowned at Maddox. "If I can just find the stupid article, I think I can figure it out."
"Article about what?" He moved to stand behind her. Where she could detect a hint of his cologne under the smoke stench of the fire.
Her heart raced into overdrive as soon as he'd entered her bedroom. Now, with his proximity and the smell of him so near, she couldn't concentrate. She took a step back, holding up a magazine like a shield. "Could you give me some space, please? I can't think with you hovering over me."
Maddox held up his hands and took a couple of steps backward. "Fine. Trust me, I got your message to back up loud and clear."
Was he talking about now or before . . . after their kiss?
No, she couldn't think about that right now. She had to find the article. She returned to scanning the indexes. Not this issue. She scanned the next. Not this one either. The third. No. The fourth. No.
"Can I help you?"
Layla shot him a look. "Yeah, go back into the kitchen. You're still too close to me. I can't think when you're around."
His eyes widened for a moment, then the edges of his mouth lifted. "Okay." He turned and strode from the room.
Good riddance. The man was sapping every strand of sanity from her.
SO SHE COULDN'T THINK when he was around. Was that good or bad?
Maddox was going to run with it being good, which made him feel a lot better.
When she'd pushed him away and run inside, he felt as if something inside of him had died. All sorts of thoughts had slammed him. Did she wish it was Dean kissing her? Did he repulse her? Was she disgusted by his kiss?
But if she couldn't think when he was around, maybe that meant she was as attracted to him as he was to her.
Maddox raked a kitchen chair across the floor and plopped down. Not used to questioning where he stood with a woman, he stared across the table at Houston. "She's searching for some article."
"So she said." Houston looked at him funny.
"What?"
"You gonna tell me what's going on with you two?"
Maddox shrugged, hoping against hope he came across as casual. "I just let her know that if I tell her to do something or stay put, I mean for her to do that."
Houston grinned. "How'd that work out for you, buddy?"
"I think she gets my point now."
Houston narrowed his eyes. "Uh-oh. What'd you do?"
"What do you mean?"
"Come on. I'm your partner. I can read you like the latest best seller. You're turning all kinds of red, and she wouldn't even look you in the eye." He snapped his fingers and pointed at Maddox. "You made a play for her, didn't you?"
Heat nearly scalded Ma
ddox's face.
Houston laughed. "You did." He continued to chuckle, shaking his head. "How'd that work out?"
"I just kissed her. That's all."
"That's all?" Houston hooted.
"Shh." Maddox glanced at the doorway. "Keep it down, will ya? She'd probably blow a gasket if she knew I was telling you."
Houston put his hand over his mouth. At least he attempted to curb his amusement at Maddox's predicament. "So, what happened?"
"What happened? She kissed me back. Then all of a sudden, she pushes away and runs into the house." He kept an eye on the doorway. "Man, what's that supposed to mean?"
"That she likes you."
"Abruptly ending the kiss and running away means she likes me?" Maddox frowned. "That makes no sense."
"That, my friend, is a woman." Houston grinned. "Cats and dogs, buddy. Cats and dogs."
"I found it!" Layla rushed into the room with a magazine in her hand. Her eyes shone with excitement, lighting up her whole face. Maddox's insides quickened. "I knew I'd seen something that rang a bell."
"What?" Houston lost all signs of amusement.
"Chinese Sheetrock."
Maddox shook his head. "I'm lost."
She pulled out a chair and put her knee on it. "After all of the hurricanes and flooding, there was a construction boom to rebuild. Especially down here in the southern states. America couldn't keep up with the demand for construction materials. For several years suppliers imported Sheetrock from China."
"I'm with you so far."
"Okay. Well, apparently the process of collecting the gypsum that Sheetrock is made from isn't as refined in China as it is here in America. Several reports occurred in the past couple of years about the high toxicity and the complications arising from the Sheetrock from China. Here, let me read you this part." She lifted the magazine. "'Toxic to copper, this Sheetrock emits sulfur gases that can damage air-conditioning coils, electrical and plumbing components, and other material. Data reports it has actually corroded air-conditioning coils, computer wiring, faucets, copper plumbing and tubing. Additionally, this Sheetrock emits a hydrogen sulfide, or "rotten eggs," odor when exposed to moist air.'"
She turned the page and continued. "'Most disturbing, however, is the effects this Sheetrock can have on one's health. Prolonged exposure to the Sheetrock, especially those with high levels of carbon disulfide, can cause breathing problems, chest pains, and even death.'"
"Wow." Maddox couldn't think of anything else to say. He had to let this soak in.
"Pastor called me to look at the plumbing at the church because the copper pipes had corroded. Bob Johnson had replaced them twice already but couldn't determine the cause. When I was there, the odor was atrocious. Now that I think about it, it did smell just like rotten eggs." She slapped the magazine to the table.
Houston nodded. "This has to be it."
"Where did you get your Sheetrock from? For both the church renovations and the Hope-for-Homes house?" Maddox asked.
"My normal supplier: Y Building Supplies." Her eyes widened. "Oh, goodness. I bet Ed hasn't a clue. I wonder if someone sold him a shipment of the Chinese Sheetrock and never told him. He'll have a fit when he finds out."
Or he'd bought this imported Sheetrock with full knowledge and sold it to Layla without her knowing. Maddox shifted in his chair. "We'll look into that tomorrow."
"As well as see what else we turn up on a couple of other angles we're considering," Houston said.
"You don't understand." Layla moved to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Ed is meticulous about his work and his reputation. He'll literally come unglued if someone pulled the wool over his eyes about this."
Maddox stood and moved beside her, grabbing one of the empty mugs she'd set out beside the coffeepot. "Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of it. Tomorrow. Too late to look into anything tonight."
Houston stood and pushed his chair to the table.
"Want some coffee?" Layla held up a cup.
"Nah. I'm crawling into that inviting spare bed of yours." He nodded to her, then shot a pointed look at Maddox. "Night, kids."
Maddox took a sip. It nearly scalded his tongue, but he paid no attention.
All he could think about was that he was all alone with Layla.
THIRTY-ONE
"Any man worth his salt will stick up for what he believes right, but it takes a slightly better man to acknowledge instantly and without reservation that he is in error."
—ANDREW JACKSON
NO! HOUSTON COULDN'T GO to bed and leave her alone with Maddox.
But he showed no signs of turning back to the kitchen. His footsteps clattered on the wood floor down the hall.
The coffee she'd just drank soured in her stomach. Layla rinsed out her cup and set it in the draining rack. She turned to find Maddox too close . . . staring.
"What is it with him and that gum? He pops it constantly. Gets on my nerves." Anything to talk about except that kiss.
"He quit smoking about a year ago. Got addicted to gum." Maddox's eyes twinkled.
Made her stomach knot. "Well, I guess I'd better call it a night too." She feigned a yawn. "Been a long day."
He set down his own mug and took hold of her shoulders. "Aren't we going to talk about it?"
A swarm of butterflies swooped through her. She licked her lips with an arid tongue. "Um, about what?" As if she didn't know.
He smiled, then ran his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. "Come on, let's go sit in the living room and talk for a bit."
Splinters! What was she going to say? Maybe he wanted to tell her it was all a mistake, which it was. She let him tug her to the couch, then sat. She drew a throw pillow into her lap.
He sat entirely too close to her. Was he trying to deliberately rattle her? If so, it was working.
All too well.
"Layla, let's talk about what's going on between us." His eyes—those blue, blue eyes—they did really strange things to her.
"I should've never kissed you." The sentence barely made it past the knot in her throat.
Maddox frowned. "Why? And as I recall, I kissed you." He gave her a shaky smile.
Which made those butterflies in her stomach do cartwheels. "Either way, I don't go around kissing men I don't even know. Or allowing them to kiss me."
"But you do know me." He reached for her hand. "You know who I am."
She pulled her hand behind the pillow. "I don't know anything about you, other than you're a detective."
"You know I have a father who had a heart attack."
No fair, bringing that up—played too deeply on her emotions. "Yes, I know that. But I don't know anything about your childhood. Your family, other than your father."
His face fell. "My mother was murdered when I was seventeen."
"Oh, Maddox, I'm so sorry." She reached for his hand and squeezed. "I didn't know."
He lifted his gaze to hers. "I was late for curfew. Came in and found her." His Adam's apple flitted up and down. "She died in my arms."
She leaned over and gave him a hug. She could feel his heartbeat. Layla sat back. "I'm so sorry."
"Not exactly what you wanted to learn, huh?" His crooked smile touched her deeply.
"I understand. Kinda." She kept hold of his hand. Maybe it was time she took a chance with her heart. Now that Randy no longer had any power over her, could she trust another man?
Layla hauled in a deep breath. "Almost eight years ago, I came home to find my mother unconscious on the floor. I was so scared she'd die before the ambulance arrived."
"If you don't mind my asking, what does she have?"
A little snort snuck out. "An addiction."
"Excuse me?"
"She overdosed on Valium. Gave her a brain injury that left her . . . well, you saw how she is." For the first time in many years, anger didn't gnaw at her as she remembered her mother.
He blinked several times, then pinned her to her seat on the couch with hi
s stare. "I'm so sorry. That must've been awful for you."
"No worse than what you had to go through." What were the odds that both of them would have such traumatic events in their teens?
"That's why I became a cop. I didn't want anyone else to go through the pain of not knowing what really happened."
Her heart ached for the young man he'd been. "You never found out?"
He shook his head. "I actually tried to work the case when I was first promoted to detective. Not enough leads."
That had to be agony—not knowing. At least with her mother, she never had a doubt about what happened. "I'm sorry. This is going to sound trite, but I have to say it anyway. Sometimes faith is just accepting when you don't know. Even if you never know. It's the reassurance that God loves you no matter what. That He's always there with you, if you but accept His gift of salvation."
He relaxed back against the couch but still held her hand. "Your faith is really part of you, isn't it?"
She smiled. "Yeah, it is. It's who I am." And if he didn't have faith, she couldn't have him in her life. Not in the way she wanted him. "You said before that you didn't believe in God." She held her breath as she waited for his response.
He ran a thumb over her knuckles. "I did say that." His brows lowered.
"You don't believe in Him?"
"I don't know." He lowered his eyes to focus on their joined hands. "I've spent my entire adult life refuting God because of what happened with my mother."
"I can understand that." She flipped her hand over in his. His steady stroking was distracting her from the conversation. And this discussion needed to take precedent. "Sometimes a tragedy can cause people to question their faith."
He shook his head. "You don't understand, Layla. I didn't question my faith. I was angry . . . furious that a god my mother worshipped would let her die in my arms."
Tears burned her eyes. She squeezed his hand. "It's always your choice, Maddox. You can question or turn from faith, or you can let God use the tragedy to strengthen your faith. It's all up to you."
