The Eligible Suspect

by Jennifer Morey

  He sank into a deeper kiss with a groan that fanned her desire. She slid her arms over his shoulders and let herself forget how little she knew him. She dragged her eyes closed to sensation.

  He ravaged her mouth with sensuous kisses, tasting, delving, taking her tongue in a deep and erotic dance. She lost herself in him, gave herself over to the feelings he stirred in her. She caught her breath when he warmed a fevered path down her neck, only to find that she needed even more air. She arched her back as he neared her breasts, felt them rub against his chest.

  Then he stepped back. No longer did his mouth work magic on her. She stumbled to catch her balance without his arms around her, staring at him as coherency returned.

  He’d only been showing her something.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked, struggling to calm her racing heart and the thrilling flutter that still tingled.

  “We have that in common, too,” he said, voice gravelly from desire. “I think you know that.”

  What was he suggesting? That they go with it and see where this went? What about his devotion to his wife? Was he capable of loving anyone else that way?

  She doubted he’d go the rest of his life without ever finding someone he could at least live with for companionship. But the takeaway for her was she’d risk more than she was willing to in order to find out if she could be that woman.

  She’d rather be single than live with a man just for companionship. And if he turned away from love to be safe with a companion and nothing more, he’d die a lonely man.

  “Don’t do that again,” she said.

  “Why? Because your heart was broken?”

  Needing her own space, she went into the bathroom. She shut the door and saw that there was plenty of water in the bucket sitting on top of the on-demand hot water system. Removing her clothes, she turned on the shower and stepped into the stall. Putting her face under the stream of water, she hoped the soothing warmth would ease her inner unrest. But the unrest came from an unsatisfied sexual need. She wanted Korbin. Did she want him physically or was her heart entangled, as well? If he kissed her again, she’d find out, because there would be no stopping what would follow.

  As though hearing her thoughts, Korbin opened the bathroom door. Savanna’s heart slammed faster. He was coming into the bathroom? While that shocking revelation both excited her and filled her with dread, he opened the shower door.

  Turning to face him, she leaned against the wall. “What are you doing?”

  Korbin’s heated gray eyes took in every detail of her wet body and then stepped into the shower. “I’ve had a broken heart, too.”

  He was as afraid as she was. But he was ready to take a chance. With her.

  “Korbin...” Was she ready to take a chance on him?

  “Let go, Savanna.”

  She barely knew this man, but that only intensified her desire. How much would it mean if they had sex? She’d loved the last two men she’d been intimate with. This wasn’t about love. Not yet. It certainly was about the possibility of love. But tonight. Now. This early in their relationship. It was not about love. No. This was about abolishing fear.

  When he moved closer and put his hands on her breasts, she lost all of her air and any resistance with it. Flutters chased through her as he caressed her. She ran her hands over his forearms and up to his biceps as he moved his hands down her rib cage, to her waist and then back up. Water splashed over his shoulder and back, dampening his hair. He was a vision.

  Then he lifted her, holding her against the wall. She felt his hardness and wrapped her legs around his hips, closing her eyes as he kissed her, the spray of water making for a slick, sultry joining.

  He dragged his mouth down her neck and then went down to take one nipple and then the other. Savanna dug her fingers through his wet hair and watched him. When he raised his head, she kissed his mouth, his cheek, then trailed her tongue over his brow. She kissed his cheeks, each of them alternatively, then found his lips, seeking something, anything that would assuage this raw need.

  When he entered her, she sank down onto him, feeling him stretch her soft, ready flesh until he buried himself all the way. He was bigger than any other man she’d been with and moved gently at first. She hooked her arms over his shoulders and urged him to give her more. With a groan, he withdrew on a velvety slide and pushed into her harder. They found a rhythm.

  “Oh...” She found his hot gaze and ground on him, closer and closer to oblivion.

  “Yes,” he breathed.

  She shattered from her core outward.

  Only after the explosion of ecstasy settled did she realize he’d peaked with her. That, and the water had run out and it was getting cold in here.

  Savanna trembled, and not all from cold. She breathed through parted lips, head resting against his. Vulnerable. Uncomfortably so. She felt as though her whole being was exposed to a stranger.

  Hadn’t that been the idea? Stranger sex to heal from past hurts? She quickly discovered it wasn’t going to work.

  Korbin kept her on him as he stepped out of the shower. Snagging two towels from an open shelf, he carried her into the yurt. Warmth from the stove helped, but goose bumps rose all over her wet skin.

  At one of the beds, he lowered her down and then followed onto the mattress. He wasn’t finished with her. A little panicky feeling made her stiffen and put her hand on his chest. Lying beneath him, she saw a reflection of her mood in his look. Unsettled by what had occurred, awed and more than a little disturbed by the power of it. That was the only thing that stopped her from asking him to get off her. He was in this with her.

  But any more of what they’d had in the shower and she’d be in trouble.

  “Korbin, I—”

  “Shh.” He kissed her mouth briefly and then began to dry her hair.

  She watched his face as he worked, muscles relaxing. He dried her everywhere. The towel rubbed her skin, a lover’s hand, his hand, guiding it. After a while, Savanna took the towel from him and treated him to the same ministrations. His big arms caged her as she dried his back and shoulders. All the while, his gaze never left hers. More long minutes passed. She rubbed his hair last. Fascinated by the messy end result and the sexy, rugged planes of his face, she let the towel drop unheeded to the side of the bed.

  She felt his rippling muscles against her body, smelled his clean skin and saw passion in his eyes. He dipped his head and kissed her, a tender melding that stirred her own passion. He began to harden but didn’t do anything about it, just kept kissing her, seducing her with warm, erotic play.

  His hands moved over her skin without a towel now, an artist sculpting soft, wet clay. Down the side of her breast, her waist and hip, and her thigh and then back up again. One muscular arm held him over her. She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders and then his waist when his hips began to push his erection against her.

  A little of that vulnerability returned. She tensed and began to close her legs, bringing her hands back to his chest.

  Taking her lower lip between his teeth, he nipped gently and then made love to her mouth as though to apologize for the sweet torture. Meanwhile, his hand slid down to her inner thigh, an intimate touch that disguised his purpose. He eased her leg back open, reaching to the back of her knee and holding her there while he penetrated her. Expert lover. Marauder. He made her so hot.

  Crushing his mouth to hers, he kissed her hard while he moved inside of her. Holding himself deep and then withdrawing, his thrusts started slow and then built force. She cried out with a powerful orgasm.

  Afterward, Korbin held her against him as he lay on his back. She curled on her side and sleep eluded her for hours. She would not be the same after this night. All those things she used to say in her motivational speeches about relationships gone bad zeroed in on her. What was positive about sleeping w
ith a hacker wanted for a hit-and-run and murder?

  * * *

  The next morning, Korbin led the way to the lodge. The blizzard had moved on last night. The yurt had been half buried and he’d had to shovel to clear the front door. It had kept him busy and that had spared him from facing Savanna. He’d woken before her, having not slept much. Neither had Savanna. He’d listened to her toss and turn as much as him.

  Getting ready to leave the yurt, they’d exchanged brief, sheepish glances. He marveled that she felt like him. Both of them struggled with the consequences of sex. It had meant more than he’d anticipated, and he was sure Savanna felt the same. Although he felt more guilt-ridden. She probably felt regret.

  What had made him think he could sleep with Savanna and not feel he’d betrayed his wife? He hadn’t thought. That’s what had happened. Now he was angry with himself.

  He kept a fast pace all the way to Lost Trail Lodge, a log structure bigger than Savanna’s but just as tucked away in the forest. There was little activity outside. The sun had peeked out from behind clouds on and off all morning. And at nearly two in the afternoon, they were beginning to thicken again.

  He loved the snow, but he wished it would lighten up for a day or two. He couldn’t afford to be stuck at Savanna’s house—or anywhere else with her. His desire for her only added to his anxiety over clearing his name. That and all the thinking he’d done about Niya, both before he’d slept with Savanna and now, the morning after, had taken its toll.

  “Boy, am I glad to take these off,” Savanna said as she stuck her skis into the snow near some others. He could hear the tension in her voice. Was it because she suspected he regretted sleeping with her? Regret wasn’t the word to describe how he felt. No, that was pure guilt and remorse. He didn’t regret the phenomenal sex he’d had with her. He just felt like a dishonorable ass for giving in to the temptation when he wasn’t ready.

  He stuck his skis into the snow beside hers. “Are we going to be able to get a ride out of here?” He walked beside her toward the entrance.

  “Why? Are you in a hurry to get away from here?”

  What she really meant was from her. He stopped and faced her. “I’m in a hurry to stop Damen from killing us both.”

  She studied him closely, not believing him. “Hurley will let us use his truck.” She pointed to a parked Chevy crew cab and started walking again.

  Hurley opened one of the thick, wood double doors. He had on tan Carhartt overalls and a long-sleeved thermal ivory shirt.

  “I sure am glad to see you,” he said to Savanna, then shifted a look to Korbin.

  Hurley was around six-one and sinewy with muscle. He must have given a lot of ski tours, and the lodge must have required constant maintenance. He worked hard and his body showed it.

  “Sheriff said you had some trouble over at your place,” Hurley said.

  Korbin stepped up to the door with Savanna. “How did the police know there was trouble at Savanna’s?”

  Hurley held the door to allow them to pass. “Someone tried to pay you a visit.”

  Savanna stopped before him while Korbin entered. “Who?”

  “Your brother. The sheriff just got here. They’re in the dining room.”

  Korbin looked at him. Sheriff? Here?

  “Which one?” Savanna asked.

  “He said his name is Macon.”

  “Macon is here? He was on a movie set. How’d he get here? And why?”

  Movie set? Her brother was an actor? Not surprising since their dad was a producer.

  Hurley motioned for her to go inside. She entered the lodge ahead of him and then turned to face him as the door closed.

  “When did he arrive?”

  “About three hours ago.” He walked toward them. “He couldn’t call police from your place so he drove to the nearest phone he could find.”

  Hurley’s. Lost Trail Lodge. Where were the police now? He turned to face the spacious lobby with plenty of seating before a river-rock fireplace. A huge red mosaic rug covered the pinewood floor and elk heads hung from log walls, their dead, glossy eyes staring.

  “I’m sure the sheriff would like to talk to you,” Hurley said.

  “Good.” Savanna started toward the wide opening leading to the dining area and then stopped and looked back at him when he didn’t follow. She’d already begun to sense something was wrong. That he wasn’t being completely forthright. Well, he wasn’t. For good reason. But what choice did he have?

  He started walking. When he reached Savanna, she eyed him suspiciously.

  “Does talking to police make you nervous?” she asked, low enough for only him to hear. Hurley had already entered the banquet room.

  Korbin didn’t respond as he entered the cavernous room with her. To the right, several tables took up half of the room. To the left, the sheriff sat with a tall, russet-haired man in a brown leather seating area before another enormous fire, river rock rising to the exposed log ceiling. Light from the gabled window sparkled on shelves of liquor behind a long bar.

  They stopped talking when the three of them approached.

  Savanna’s brother shot to his feet and rushed over to her. “Where have you been?” He embraced her.

  Korbin stopped beside her, Hurley to his left.

  “Skiing,” she said.

  “Your house...” He surveyed her as though making sure she was all right. “The door was open and it was a wreck. The back door was broken. The heat was running and it was still cold in there. I’ve been going out of my mind imagining what must have become of you.”

  “I’m all right.”

  His face eased of tension and he rubbed her arms up and down. Tall and lean with chiseled features, he looked like an actor.

  When Macon looked at Korbin, Savanna turned.

  “Macon, this is Korbin Maguire,” she said.

  “Are you the reason Savanna is in danger?” Macon asked.

  “Someone is trying to kill him,” she said, sounding as though she were defending him. Was she?

  “Kill you? Who?” Macon asked.

  Korbin looked toward the sheriff, who just now rose to his feet. Gray hair peeked out from under his beige cowboy hat and deep wrinkles fanned out from his eyes. He stopped before them.

  Korbin saw no sign that he recognized him. “His name is Damen Ricchetti. He’s involved in cyber crimes and is into something big right now.” He explained what he’d told Savanna.

  “What is the name of the person this Mr. Ricchetti doesn’t like you knowing?” the sheriff asked.

  “Tony Bartoszewicz.” Korbin spelled the name for him. “I don’t know anything about him, and Damen came after me to keep me from doing so.” He turned to Savanna. “I made a wrong turn in the storm.”

  The sheriff finished writing down the name and then looked up at Korbin. “And this Mr. Ricchetti is the one who broke into Savanna’s house?”

  “Yes,” Korbin said.

  “He shot at us,” Savanna said. “We were forced to ski into the wilderness. The yurt saved us.” She looked up at Hurley to send him her silent thanks. He gave her an answering faint smile.

  Macon eyed Korbin in a way that made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t buying the story. For an actor he was sure street-smart. Maybe he suspected there was more to it. Well, there was. A lot more.

  “How well do you know Mr. Ricchetti?” the sheriff asked.

  “I thought I knew him very well. We’ve been friends for more than ten years.”

  “Can you give me his address?”

  Korbin did.

  “And how about his place of employment? You said he was into cyber crimes.”

  “He runs a contracting company. He employs information technology types.”

  “What’s the name of his company?”


  “DR Consulting.” It’s what he filed his taxes under.

  “And you haven’t noticed anything different about him?”

  “He’s been distant. Doesn’t talk as much as he used to. But nothing significant. It wasn’t until I discovered his association with Tony that he became violent.” All of that was true. He only left out the fact that they both illegally hacked the wealthy. He glanced at Savanna to see if she’d reveal anything. She stared at the sheriff’s notebook but didn’t say anything. Her gaze lifted and met his.

  The sheriff tapped his notebook with his pen. “What brought you up here?”

  Savanna’s eyes shifted to the sheriff. Yes, that was a good question, wasn’t it? Korbin fumbled with a reply.

  “I needed a few days alone.”

  The sheriff studied him a while and for a moment he thought he’d ask more questions.

  “I’ll pass this along to the authorities in Denver,” he said. Korbin felt his suspicion. He felt Macon’s, too. And Savanna was becoming agitated. She folded her arms and had a cold demeanor now. He’d have to tell her everything.

  “We finished up at your house,” the sheriff said to Savanna. “I had my deputy arrange to have your window boarded up. It should be safe to go back there. There’s a mess to clean up, though.”

  Savanna nodded, awkward and revealing.

  A glance at Macon confirmed he’d noticed, too.

  “You should have the patio door replaced as soon as possible,” the sheriff said.

  “I will.”

  “And I’d recommend upgrading your security. You’re remote and that sometimes deters most, but in this case...”

  “Yes. I’ll do that. Thank you.”

  Savanna had an appearance of a woman who needed protection and taking care of, but Korbin had seen for himself how misguided that perception was.

  The sheriff tipped his hat at them and then walked toward the lobby with Hurley, the two going into a conversation about an upcoming local event. Small-town talk. The sheriff would do some checking on him, but by the time he figured out he was a suspect in a murder and a hit-and-run, Korbin hoped to be long gone.