by Sheryl Lynn
“Don’t slap me. I have to put this where he won’t feel it if he hugs you.” He hooked his fingers in the elastic waistband of her skirt and tugged it down low on her hips. Her bikini panties seemed to shrink four sizes. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay put. He placed a cigarette- package-size transmitter low against the small of her back, right above the cleft of her buttocks. When cold plastic touched her skin, gooseflesh prickled her back. He pulled her skirt back into place.
“How does that feel?”
“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. Her face burned.
“It’s not bad for me either.” He chuckled irreverently and used more strips of tape to make sure the wire lay flat against her skin. Every place his fingers smoothed tape, she burned and quivered.
His insolent grin irked her. “You’re liking this far too much.”
He lifted his eyebrows, but didn’t deny the accusation. “Maybe you can pretend nothing happened between us, but I can’t.” He glanced at the bed. “You can put your blouse on.”
She needed no urging to shove her arms in the sleeves and hastily button the front. She put on the vest. “You promised not to mention that.”
“I didn’t mention that” He planted his fists on his hips and glared down his nose at her. “It wasn’t that, Tink. We made love. You and me, just like old times, but believe me, it was a helluva lot better than old times. You sent me flying, babe.”
“Easy!”
“You seemed to be flying pretty high yourself. Why are you so embarrassed?”
Her face felt ready to burst into flame. She hugged herself and stared miserably at the floor. “This isn’t the time or the place. We have a deal.”
“You and your damned deals. You didn’t mean it anymore than I did. I’m tired of dancing around you. Sick and tired of not touching you! Just looking at you is pure torture.”
She turned her back on him, knowing if he glimpsed her eyes, they’d betray her longing for him. “What happened the other day was…temporary insanity! It won’t happen again.”
“Want to bet?” The smooth challenge in his voice rasped her nerves. “You can’t resist me any more than I can resist you.”
“And you call Jeffrey arrogant? There is nothing between us. Why can’t you understand?”
“I’ll tell you what I understand. You’re bummed because you don’t get your big wedding and two point two kids with Mr. All-American. You’re scared because Liv-man turned out to be as bad I said. You’re still mad at me about losing Elizabeth. Or you’re mad at yourself. It doesn’t matter which one. What matters is, you’ll get over it. When you do, I’m right here.”
She couldn’t help it, she had to look at his face. She had to witness with her own eyes that he truly believed his puffed-up, egotistical, arrogant, simplistic analysis. His sincerity beamed like a beacon. She opened her mouth for a snappy retort, but her mind went completely blank.
“The sooner you quit fighting it, the sooner we can get on with our lives.” He rolled a hand imperiously. “Turn around. Let me see if anything shows.”
Grumbling about his overinflated male ego, she executed a slow pirouette.
He waggled his fingers. “Let me feel you up.”
She scrambled away from him. “You stay away from me!”
“It’s business, Tink. I don’t want him feeling the wire. Hold your arms out.”
“If he touches me, I’ll vomit.” She knew that as certain as the mountains were high. She’d been kissing a killer.
She held out her arms and suffered him patting her sides and back for any sign of the wiring. He lingered under her breasts and she definitely knew he caressed rather than patted. He snaked his arms around her. She gasped, stiffening in his arms.
“Just checking to make sure he can’t feel the transmitter if he hugs you.”
He pressed the long, hard length of his body against her, belly to belly, thigh to thigh, and his hands slid sensuously down her back, teasingly close to her derriere. If Jeffrey had ever embraced her like this, nothing Easy Martel said or did could have made her give him up. She shoved at his arms.
He kissed her. Full on the lips, wet and lusty, all consuming, unmistakable in his demands. Her knees turned to water. Her belly softened and burned. She parted her lips and his tongue dueled tenderly with hers. He tasted so fine, so fresh and enigmatic. Arousal spread through her like the billowing clouds of an explosion, until even her hands and feet felt full, turgid with desire. She clutched the back of his shirt with both hands. Knowing he was aroused excited her and she pressed her body against his, feeling his hardness, feeling him tremble.
He broke the embrace with a suddenness that left her staggering. She groped blindly and found the edge of the dresser to hold on to for support. Breathing hard, she was glad for the vest that not only concealed the microphone and transmitter, but her hardened nipples now pressing painfully against the confines of her bra.
She glared at him, but his smile never faded and the word, sorry never passed his lips. His sheer irreverence struck a chord within her. No matter what happened, no matter the circumstances, Easy Martel remained Easy Martel. Brash, impudent…irresistible.
He shifted his stance and tugged at the waistband of his jeans. The effects of that kiss were obvious under the wear-softened denim. “Don’t smile,” he warned.
“You,” she said, each word clipped, “are an egotistical buffoon.”
“And you’re the sexiest woman in the world. We’re a perfect match.”
Unbidden, unwanted, a smile blossomed before she could stop it. She turned her head and covered her mouth with a hand. “Leave me alone.”
He poked her shoulder with his finger. “You don’t mean that.”
She slapped at his hand and skipped out of reach. “I do, too.” His devilish smile and the unrepentant gleam in his eyes tickled her. A giggle rose and she tried to stop it, but it escaped. She wondered how she ever deluded herself into thinking she could remain angry at him.
“Hey!” Trish thumped noisily on the door before pushing it open. “What’s going on? You’re taking a long time in here.”
“Ready for a sound check.” He bowed graciously. “If you ladies will give me a moment, I want to check clarity. Stay here and chat”
Her skin itching where the tape pulled, Catherine watched him leave the room. He closed the door behind him. She hugged her elbows and smiled wanly at Trish.
Trish sidled across the room, her expression too carefully neutral. “So what’s the deal with you and Easy? Are you guys getting together again?”
The bed behind her seemed to quiver with laughter. Catherine refused to glance over her shoulder; refused to face the object of her guilt. She meant to assert that she and Easy were definitely not now, not ever getting back together. Her throat refused to loosen enough for speech.
“I can see the chemistry is still there. He’s never been serious about anyone else. You ought to at least give it a shot.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “After all you guys have been through, it seems silly not to try.”
Catherine sensed the meaning beneath the innocuous words. Her scalp prickled. “We dated in high school. Nothing more.”
“Ah, come on, you did a lot more than just dating.”
Catherine saw the knowledge in Trish’s too-sweet smile and wide eyes. Trish knew about Elizabeth. Which meant Easy had told her. He had probably told her everything.
Trish’s smile faded. “I don’t mean to make you mad.” She twiddled with a long beaded necklace. “Maybe you could go over to the house. Mom and Dad would love to see you again. It would be like old times.”
Feeling trapped, she hugged herself harder. Mr. and Mrs. Martel had been more like parents to her than her own parents had been. Kind, warm and affectionate, they’d always welcomed her into their home. News of a lost grandchild would hurt them. She wondered if Easy had told them, too.
“He told you,” Catherine whispered. “You know why I left that year.”
“I did.” She almost added, I do, but caught herself in time. “I was scared, I was stupid. I thought I was alone.”
Eyes downcast, the corners of her mouth turned down, Trish formed the very picture of dejection. “You weren’t alone.” An edge of anger crept into her voice. “It isn’t fair. I’m a relative, too. I’d be a terrific aunt.”
“I did what I thought was the best at the time.”
“I don’t know how you can say that. You really hurt Easy.”
“That wasn’t my intent.”
“He had a right to know.”
Catherine had no reply to that elemental truth. “I don’t wish to discuss this,” she said stiffly.
“If you’d discuss stuff with people maybe you wouldn’t go around hurting everybody.”
Catherine realized Trish hadn’t changed much in the past twelve years. Still blunt and outspoken, she preferred to apologize rather than hold her tongue. “It’s none of your business. Easy shouldn’t have told you in the first place.”
“The baby is my blood, too. I have a right to know what happened to her. I have a right to know what’s going on with you and my brother.” She clamped her fists on her hips. “So where is she? Are you going to get her back? Easy can find her with a couple of phone calls. Even I could do it. He can sue for custody, you know. You have no right to deny him his own baby—”
A knock on the door made both of them jump. “Sound check!” Easy called through the wood.
Catherine gasped and caught her throat with her hand. She’d forgotten about the wire. Cautiously, uncertain if he’d heard the argument, she asked, “Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you,” he called. “Have Trish say something. I want to test the recorder.”
“We’ll talk later,” Trish mouthed. Then louder, she said, “If Easy wasn’t so mean and stingy, he’d let me borrow his motorcycle.”
“I heard that!” he yelled.
His sister stuck out her tongue and made a rude noise. “Did you hear that?”
Easy opened the door. “Smart aleck.” He pulled the headphones off his head and let them rest around his neck. “Everything works fine. Are you ready, Tink?”
She slid a glare at Trish and Trish met it with heat of her own. One small consolation was that now instead of terror over facing Jeffrey, she had anger at Trish to distract her. “I’m ready.”
IN THE PARKING LOT of the Grape and Olive restaurant, Easy parked near the exit. Catherine had set up a late-evening date, so darkness covered him. Even if Jeffrey came outside, his chances of spotting surveillance were minimal. Easy settled the earphones on his head.
Next to him, on the passenger seat, Trish folded her arms and sighed loudly. “Think she can pull this off?”
Easy clenched his jaw. If not for John Tupper in the back seat, he’d be blasting his little sister right about now. She had no right to grill Catherine about the baby. Or to make threats. His belly ached from pretending he hadn’t heard what the women had been saying in his bedroom.
“Quiet,” he growled. “I need to adjust this thing.”
They’d selected the Grape and Olive because it was one of Jeffrey’s favorite restaurants, but mostly because it didn’t have a live band or music playing over speakers. Still, the sensitive microphone picked up every clatter, murmur and clank. A man greeted Catherine by name and told her Jeffrey was waiting.
“You don’t have to bite my head off,” Trish said. “Only a question.”
“Keep your big mouth shut, okay? You’ve done enough damage already.”
“What—Oh! You were listening.” She tossed her head, setting her curls flying. “I only said what had to be said.”
Even in the darkness, Easy could see John’s wide interested eyes as he followed the conversation between the siblings. “Shut up, or I’m throwing you out of the car.”
“She’s still in love with you. I see how she looks at you. And you’re still in love with her. Don’t even try to deny it. The only thing holding her back is she feels guilty. Find out where the baby is. You’ll both feel better.”
“Get out of my car.”
She huffed. “I’ll shut up. But you know I’m right.” She twisted on the seat so she faced John. “Don’t you think people who are in love owe it to each other to be completely honest?”
Easy caught his inner cheek in his teeth. Once Trish was wound up, there was no stopping her. He regretted telling her about Catherine and the baby. He focused on the noise coming through the headphones.
“I know you’re angry with me, Jeffrey,” Catherine was saying. “I lied to you.”
Easy waved frantically for silence. When Trish kept talking, he clamped a hand over her mouth. He hit the record start button on a cassette recorder. Sound from the headphones filtered through the speaker.
“Lied about what?” Jeffrey Livman sounded peevish and cold.
Easy mentally urged Catherine to keep her cool.
“About not knowing you were married. You see…a package came in the mail. It was full of information about you. And Roberta. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I don’t know why anyone sent it to me. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Package?” Livman’s voice held a threatening note that lifted the short hairs on the nape of Easy’s neck. “What do you mean, a package?”
“It came anonymously from some private security firm. Newspaper clippings and such. I gave it no real importance. I didn’t even want it in my house. But it scared me. I can’t imagine why anyone would send it.” A long pause was punctuated by a male voice cheerfully describing the evening specials. Rustling noises crackled in the headphones and Easy winced. He imagined Catherine shifting around on the seat
Easy listened to the change in Livman’s voice while he spoke to the waiter. A casual observer would guess Livman hadn’t a care in the world. Just a dope out on a date.
Finally the waiter left. Livman changed instantaneously; his voice turned to ice. “You have no idea who sent that…package?”
“Not a clue.” Her voice broke. Easy winced again. The girl couldn’t lie to save her soul. “Somebody is trying to break us up. I mean, I understand how very difficult it was
for you to tell me about your wife. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it. Who would want to hurt you like that?”
“It is extremely painful,” he said. “So where’s the package?”
“I must have thrown it away. Not that it contained anything important. Not really. Some newspaper articles and—and Roberta’s death certificate. Why would anyone do that?” She paused. Crystal clinked with a faint belllike tone. “There was a name on letterhead. A private security firm. I thought about calling them, but it all seems so—so—so dirty, somehow.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Catherine didn’t answer for several seconds. Easy could picture her squirming, her face turning red. “Come on, babe,” he murmured. “You can do this.”
“I didn’t believe it.” Her voice was surprisingly firm. “I thought the names were mere coincidences or else somebody was playing a cruel joke.”
“What do you believe now?” Livman asked.
“You’ve suffered a terrible tragedy. I also believe you have an enemy who wants to hurt you.” She paused, her breathing audible. The microphone picked up the sound of her swallowing. “It’s working, isn’t it? I haven’t seen you in ages. You’re angry with me. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I should have called you the second that package arrived.”
“You should feel terrible about your distrust. I’m the man you love.”
“I’m so sorry! Can you ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know if I can, Catherine,” he said.
Despite knowing Catherine merely acted as if she groveled, Easy seethed with disgusted anger.
“Actually, yes. I have an enemy.”
“Who is he? What does he want?”
“My wife’s brother. His name is John Tupper. He’s as sick as Roberta was.”
John lurched forward and draped his elbows over the seat. He made an astonished noise, blowing hot breath across Easy’s cheek. Trish patted his arm with a comforting hand.
“He’s going around telling people I killed my wife.”
“Why would he say such a horrid thing?” Catherine sounded genuinely appalled and Easy felt proud.
“Because he’s sick. Not to mention greedy.”
“Greedy? Whatever do you mean?”
The waiter returned, accompanied by loud clangs, bangs and thumps. Again, Livman’s tone changed. He chatted pleasantly with the waiter, asking about his family and his college courses. Easy shook his head in wonder. The dirtbag was so good he ought to be in the movies.
“What’s this crap about me being greedy?” John demanded.
“Hush.” Easy waited for the waiter to leave and for the conversation to resume. He was dying to know how Liv-man justified calling John greedy, too.
Small crunches said Catherine ate something. Easy wished he could tell her to stop chewing.
“Roberta and her brother leached off each other. He’s part of the reason she was in debt. He also had it in his head that she inherited a bunch of money and antiques when their mother died, but that was a crock. She hocked everything to pay for booze.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” John murmured.
“Plus, she had a small insurance policy,” Livman continued. “She must have told her brother about it.”
“How much did the policy pay?”
“Barely enough to cover funeral costs. After the casket and grave site and everything, I had maybe two hundred dollars left over. I donated it to charity, in her name. It was the least I could do for her. Tupper seems to think I made a fortune. He tried to make trouble with the insurance company, but that didn’t work. So now he’s telling everyone I killed her. He wants the insurance.”
