Chapter 15
“You mean, you don’t live here?”
Autumn Ivy looked across the table at Knox Jorgenson, the sexy, blue-eyed detective she’d met at Lincoln’s house. She’d love to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair.
“Not exactly,” she answered. “My parents have a house in Evergreen. I stay there sometimes. I also stay at a loft downtown. I rented it because I come here so often. This is where we meet as a family all the time.”
“Where do you live?”
Autumn braced herself for this part. This was when a guy either made it to the second date or he shot himself in the foot. “I’m Jackson Ivy’s daughter.”
His blank look gave her hope. The instant heat he’d felt when she’d first met him returned.
“The movie producer? The Last Planet? Rebound?”
His blank look continued, or had it shifted to shock? “You’re kidding.”
She shook her head and lifted the glass of red wine for a sip, loving his face, and encouraged that there just might be something to this.
“You have a big family?” he asked.
She smiled, setting down her glass, also loving the first coherent question that followed his knowledge of how rich her family was. “There’s eight of us, not including Mom and Dad.”
“Mom and Dad,” he murmured, still absorbing. “Where do you live?”
“New York City. I have an apartment there.”
She watched him register how expensive that apartment must be.
“That’s pretty far away,” he said.
She couldn’t tell if his ego was struggling to keep up with her. As a detective, he couldn’t compete with her financially. She clearly made more than he did. Well, technically she didn’t make the money. Her parents gave it to her in a big trust fund. But he’d focused on how far away she lived rather than the cost of her home.
“I can find a place here if I need to,” she told him.
“Yeah, I’ll bet you could.”
Had his interest in her changed? Money and fame had a way of doing that to people. She’d had conversations with Lincoln about it. He hated dealing with that, too. Most of her siblings did. Except Jonas. He fed off the attention he got. But maybe not so much anymore. When she’d seen him at Lincoln’s, he’d seemed different. More down to earth.
“Does that bother you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, but you might have to buy your own wedding ring.”
Why was he talking wedding rings? They barely knew each other.
Then he chuckled. “Just making a point.”
She relaxed. “Oh.” She might be accustomed to expensive things. She was accustomed to shopping for clothes and accessories, but she didn’t need a man for that. She didn’t need a man to buy her anything.
“Let’s see where this goes,” he said, defusing her even more.
She liked that. He made her feel comfortable. Taking it easy was her motto. She needed time to get to know a man.
“Okay.”
“Where did you grow up?” he asked.
“California.” She didn’t have to say it was in a mansion.
“I grew up in a little fishing village in Delaware. My parents still live there. My sister stayed nearby, but my brother left for college in Michigan. He’s in Chicago now. He’s a doctor there.”
“Wow.” She was impressed. “You must have had such an idyllic childhood.”
She could see the love shining in his eyes as he thought of his parents. “Yeah. My parents are great. Hardworking, good morals. My dad was a fireman before he retired. He’s the reason I wanted to become a cop.”
“You wanted to be a hero?”
“What little boy doesn’t?”
“Is it all you dreamed about?”
He grunted derisively. “I think you know the answer to that.”
It wasn’t. Fighting crime was a difficult job. He must have seen some terrible things.
“How did you end up here?” she asked.
“The Rockies. And not the baseball team.”
She laughed. “What a relief.” He seemed so normal. She’d thought that before about men, though, and found herself wrong.
He paid for dinner and they walked down the 16th Street Mall, other people walking past them and on the other side of the tram, some dressed up, some looking rougher. A horse and buggy clip-clopped by. It was a nice night for this time in fall.
He took her hand, which she thought was a sweet gesture. Recalling that he’d kissed her the first time they’d met, she wasn’t sure she should let him keep it. But his physical presence wooed her. He was tall and lean, with muscles in all the right places. She began to warm again, that electric magnetism firing up.
“Have you seen any sign of those men anymore?”
He was asking about the men who’d come to Lincoln’s house. “No. Arizona told me that Lincoln said police and FBI are looking for them now. Or, at least, the one they worked for.” She told him all about the ordeal her brother and Sabrina had been going through in California, leaving out her speculation that there was serious romance blooming between her brother and Sabrina.
“Good. I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to continue my police protection.”
What? She angled her head to eye him. “Police protection? Have you been spying on me?”
He grinned, the manly crease along his mouth distracting her. “Spying isn’t the word I’d use.”
She hadn’t even noticed. How scary was that? It was nice to know he was watching her, but it almost felt...creepy. If he wasn’t a cop she would have ended the date right now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.
“I figured you’d feel more comfortable not knowing.”
“Yeah, but...you were spying on me.”
“Not spying. What do you think I’d do? Assume those men wouldn’t try to come back?”
“It’s Lincoln they’re after.” He’d known she was staying at the loft. If he was spying on her, had he already known about her family?
“You already knew who I was, didn’t you?” she asked.
He let go of her hand and stopped. “No.” He sounded emphatic. “I didn’t look into your background. I just followed you home. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
He’d followed her. Was that weird?
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he said, “I wouldn’t do anything to ruin this. Meeting you was...”
Yeah. Indescribable. She tipped her head back when he leaned in for a kiss.
The rapid shutter snaps of cameras went off. Autumn broke away from Knox to find herself caught by a reporter.
“Is this your next boyfriend, Autumn?” he asked.
Autumn stepped back, taking Knox’s hand as she tugged him toward his car. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Detective Jorgenson,” the reporter called, coming after them. “Did you know Autumn just broke up with Deangelo Calabrese? Aren’t you worried she’s on the rebound?”
“Kind of hard to be rebound when we only dated a few times.” Autumn tugged harder on Knox, who held back and seemed interested in what the reporter had to say.
“That’s all it takes with you,” the reporter teased, snapping more pictures.
“Leave us alone!”
“You dated Deangelo Calabrese?” Knox asked.
“She didn’t tell you?” the reporter smiled. “He’s not the only one. There’s a long list of men she’s tossed aside. I’d be careful if I were you.”
At last they reached Knox’s Chevy Malibu. Inside, he started the engine but didn’t move to drive away. The reporter snapped a few more pictures, probably hoping to catch an argument.
“Get us out of here,”
Autumn pleaded.
Knox backed the Malibu up and began to drive away.
“What was he talking about back there?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Autumn bit her knuckle, her elbow on the door.
“You have a reputation for dating lots of men? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re beautiful, but...”
“It’s the media. They lie about everything.”
Chapter 16
Tristan still hadn’t been caught. Sabrina stood at the wall of windows with a view of the beach and ocean. It didn’t work to distract her. Two days had passed since she and Lincoln had devoted themselves to sex and she’d made the stupid decision to try to seduce him into wanting a commitment with her.
Last night, she’d sensed his withdrawal, and it was intense.
He’d been quiet and absorbed in thought, thinking about her, no doubt, that woman he’d loved and planned to marry. Sabrina had given him space, hoping he’d come to terms with the tragedy once and for all, but this morning he was even quieter and wouldn’t look at her.
She turned. He still sat at the table. The more they were together, the more serious this felt. She couldn’t be alone in this. The sex was too strong.
The morning after that first time, Lincoln had woken her with soft kisses. After climbing onto her and entering her while she was still half-asleep, he’d told her to roll over. His deep voice had lulled her into obedience. She’d rolled over, and he’d lifted her onto her knees.
“Stay on your elbows,” he’d instructed.
And he’d separated her knees. She had long legs, and the spread had been adequate. She could still feel his hands on her hips, the glide of one around to her abdomen, his fingers on her clit. And then he’d pushed into her from behind. Rubbing her clitoris, he’d made love to her gently. It had gone on for several minutes like that. He’d bring her to near eruption and then slow down, removing his fingers to just go in and out. And then he’d heat her up again. Finally, she’d been a tight channel of sensitivity, tingling like mad. With circular motion, his fingers had worked their magic as he’d penetrated her harder. Faster. Deeper. He’d kept himself deep inside her while she’d yelled her release. Only after the long, deep spasms had eased had she realized he’d come at the same time.
They’d watched TV for an hour and taken a shower, where he’d sat down and made her straddle him.
They’d spent the entire day in the room. Making love. Eating. Sleeping.
Yesterday, they’d packed a picnic and spent the afternoon on the beach. They’d found a secluded spot and spread a blanket out. He’d made love to her there, too. On the soft sand, the day warm for fall, he’d kissed her endlessly and then pulled her bikini bottoms down. He’d untied her top, but not removed it, just pushed it to the side to expose her for his pleasure. She’d stretched her arms over her head and waited for him to look his fill. He had, his smoldering blue eyes on fire. Then he’d looked around to be sure no one could see, and kneed her legs open. She’d pulled his trunks down, caring only about him, pleasuring him as much as he was pleasuring her. He’d slid inside her, keeping watch around them until the passion grew to be too much and neither of them were aware of anything except his erection mind-blasting them both into oblivion.
If anyone had walked by along the beach, they would have seen them. No one had, and the day had turned into a fantastic memory. And then night had come, and he’d begun to withdraw. She didn’t think it was his feelings for Miranda that put a wedge between them; it was the tragedy. Losing Miranda to murder. Losing love. He didn’t want to lose love again.
All Sabrina had ever wanted was to find love. She wasn’t afraid of losing it once she had it, only never finding it.
The realization came in that instant. She’d never thought of it that way before, that she was searching for love so that she didn’t have to live alone like her mother and grandmother. That was why she was always so careful about the men she chose. But she was going about it all wrong. This was the closest she’d ever felt to love. That was why letting go with Lincoln had been so easy. And as soon as she had, their love had begun to sprout. It would be powerful with him, if he’d allow it to keep growing.
There was nothing she could do to make him, though. She couldn’t just stand by and watch him throw it away.
Well, she didn’t have to stay here and do that. She could watch him throw it away from her front porch. At least there she could go inside and spare herself some agony.
Making up her mind, she went to pack her clothes. There was nothing they could do here, anyway. The police would catch Tristan if they could, and who knew how long that would be? She wasn’t waiting here. At home she’d have Maddie and the task of finding a new job.
Realizing she’d subconsciously decided to stay in Denver, her mood plummeted. Did she harbor hope that Lincoln would come around? She had to resolve herself to the possibility that he might not.
“What are you doing?”
Realizing he’d stood and come to her, she stopped packing. “I’m going home.”
He stared at her. She watched him rationalize their relationship, the gripping sex, the magnetism that brought them close and the fact that Tristan wasn’t going to be easy to catch. His face went cold. And then he nodded.
Disappointment crushed her. She resumed packing, refusing to give her feelings power; not now. Maybe when she arrived home and he wasn’t around, she’d allow some time for sorrow. But right now she just wanted to focus on getting home.
* * *
Sabrina sat curled on her couch with Maddie, the television on, a laptop on the ottoman in front of her. She’d spent the past hour looking for jobs both here and in California. The flight home had been pure torture.
Lincoln had noticed a change in her. She doubted he’d ever been with a woman who could switch it off as masterfully as she could. While she’d taken great care in getting good at that, she wasn’t proud. She’d just been raised by women who had to do that to survive. It was in her blood.
“Are you okay?” he’d asked on the plane.
“Fine. Why? Are you?” she’d countered.
He’d missed her underlying meaning. She’d be fine. It was him who wouldn’t if he didn’t learn how to deal with his commitment issue.
“You just seem...quiet.”
“You’re quiet, too, Lincoln.”
That had shut him up. He’d fallen into another long bout of thinking. By the end of the trip, she’d practically had to bite her tongue off to keep from saying something.
“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” he’d said when they’d arrived home.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll find my own way of keeping track of Tristan’s capture.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
She hadn’t been able to stop her sneer. “I was fine before you came along. I’m sure I’ll be fine now.”
“Yeah, real fine, huh, Mad?” Sabrina scratched the dog’s ear, seeing her looking up with knowing eyes. She could sense her master’s mood. Sitting up on the sofa, Maddie gave her a soft, droolless kiss on her cheek, which instantly lightened Sabrina’s spirit.
“I know, snap out of it, right?” she said.
Maddie licked her again, and Sabrina went back to looking for a job, stopping yet again as she wondered if staying in Denver was such a good idea. Right next door to Lincoln, the man she’d had repeated sex with for a few days, and that was all that had come of it. She’d taken the risk. She’d let go.
And lost.
“Win some, lose some,” she said to the room. “Might as well get used to living alone.”
Was there such a thing as fate? Was she fated to live the same as her mother and grandmother?
A news program began coverage of a murder in California. She heard the name Castillo
and sat straighter. The body of Cesar Castillo had been found in a farmer’s field. Castillo’s wife had identified him and wasn’t available for comment. It came as no surprise to Sabrina that the man had been murdered. She’d expected to hear that at some point. There were no suspects, and the authorities were investigating it as a gang hit. It may have been that, but it was related to Tristan’s gun dealings. The police were surely aware of that by now. It just hadn’t made the news.
While she began to wonder why Mrs. Castillo wasn’t available for comment, Maddie growled and hopped down from the sofa. Sabrina went on full alert as she watched her dog move slowly toward the kitchen, the hair along her back raised.
* * *
Lincoln stood staring through his kitchen window at Sabrina’s house. She’d shut all her blinds on this side of her house. He’d seen her once yesterday when she’d come home from the grocery store. He’d seen her carry a few bags into her garage. She hadn’t seen him or looked at his house.
She’d seemed so accepting of his brooding. He couldn’t tell her the thoughts that had plagued him, that still plagued him. He was afraid of continuing their relationship. As she probably knew, it would develop into something serious. He wasn’t prepared for that.
His thoughts were so jumbled. He thought of Miranda, her death and losing her. Guilt consumed him, and he didn’t understand why. Was it over his love for her or the way she died? She was gone, and he had to move on. He clung to her memory too tightly. Those realizations were what had him in a conundrum. He felt guilty, and then he felt justified in letting her go. Which was it? And where did Sabrina fit in it all?
Somewhere new.
She was brand-new territory. What he felt with her was completely different than what he’d felt with Miranda. That was where the guilt came in. How could he feel more for Sabrina than he had with Miranda when he’d known Miranda longer?
Not that much longer.
Why was he having such clarity, and clarity that was so much different than it had been before he’d met Sabrina?
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