"When exactly did Macy leave the hospital?" Natalie wanted to know.
"The staff doesn't know for certain, but it's their best guess that she left shortly after lunch."
So, she'd been missing for hours. Kitt probably hadn't told them sooner because she'd been trying to find Macy.
"You're not going to like this next part, either," Kitt continued. "Macy had a visitor an hour before she disappeared."
"Not Dr. Benjamin?" Rick protested.
"Nope. It was the other nutso—Dr. Isabella Henderson."
"You think Dr. Henderson talked her into leaving?" Natalie asked, then turned to face Rick, alarm in her eyes. Rick figured there was alarm in his eyes, too, especially if what Dr. Benjamin had told them about Dr. Henderson was true.
"I don't know Isabella Henderson's role in all of this yet," Kitt explained. "I will, just give me a little more time to find out. There are surveillance videos, and I'm reviewing them now." Another pause. A heavy intake of breath. "But I do know that the shrink got back some of Macy's preliminary test results, and someone has been drugging the daylights out of her."
Rick mumbled "Oh, God," right along with Natalie. "What kind of drugs?"
"Mood-altering stuff available only through prescriptions. And the black market. I've got the names of them written down, and they're impossible to pronounce, but I plan to research them. It's possible Macy's been taking them voluntarily. Or not."
Rick figured it was the or not. However, the drugs perhaps explained Macy's recent memory problems and maybe even her bizarre behavior. But the question was—if it hadn't been voluntary, then who had given her the drugs?
Dr. Benjamin?
Maybe even Dr. Isabella Henderson?
"You were right," Natalie said to her sister. "That's a lot of bad news. Mom was drugged. Now, she's missing—"
"Oh, there's more, a lot more," Kitt interrupted. "We're having a red-letter day of joy and laughter. Troy packed up and moved out of Macy's house. Mom left a letter for him at the hospital. It was definitely Macy's handwriting, and she told Troy he was fired and that he was to leave her house immediately."
Too bad Macy hadn't left her daughters a letter to tell them where she was. Still, Rick was pleased that Troy was gone.
"Troy was apparently feeling chatty while he was packing his body buffing oil, and he whined like a baby to anyone on the staff who'd listen," Kitt explained. "His number one whine? That Rick and you are responsible for Macy firing him."
"Why did he think that?" Rick asked.
"Because in the letter Mom told him that's why she was firing him—because she thought he'd done some bad things to Natalie and you. Well, Troy didn't like the accusation and said you guys had been telling lies so that you could turn Macy against him. He threatened both of you and said payback was going to be a bitch. I excluded some other expletives, but you get the point."
"Payback," Natalie mumbled.
And Rick immediately knew what she was thinking. "When exactly did Troy move out?"
"Late last night. And here's the kicker—no one has seen him since. He's not even answering his pager or cell phone. I tried because I wanted to ask him if he'd seen Macy. That cell phone and pager are like Troy's masculine appendages. He wouldn't stop answering them unless…well, you can take your pick. He's either licking his wounds over being fired, or he's out there plotting a way to get his revenge against the two of you."
Of course, there was one other option. Troy had already tried to get revenge, that he had been the one to set the fire. Maybe Troy had been the one who tried to kill them. And if so, that likely meant he was trying to figure out how to go after them again.
"We need to find him," Rick insisted.
"Yeah. We do. I'm working on it." And judging from Kitt's somber tone, she fully understood the implications. "In the meantime, you keep Natalie safe. Hear me? Lock the doors, turn on the security alarms and keep her safe."
"I will," Rick promised.
He only hoped it was a promise he could keep.
Chapter Ten
Natalie wished for a glass of chilled pinot grigio, but since alcohol and pregnancy didn't mix, she settled for some chocolate malted milk that she located in the fridge. Kitt's stash, obviously. But Natalie helped herself to it and hoped it would settle her stomach.
"Troy," Rick grumbled while he drank his beer. The longneck bottled brew was also Kitt's stash. "I wish I had five minutes alone with that SOB."
Natalie wished the same thing. Her mother's former personal assistant might have some role in all of this, and unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found so they could grill him.
Lately, that was the story of their lives.
She sat down in the chair across from him and met his troubled gaze. "Kitt will find Macy and Troy."
Rick nodded, and he sat there a moment just staring at her. "For the record, I'm moving in here with you until things settle down."
Judging from his take-no-prisoners expression, he was ready to do battle with her if she objected.
"Relax. If you hadn't suggested it, I would have." She sampled the milk, decided that it tasted far better than she'd thought it would and had a hearty sip. "I'm not an idiot, and the truth is—Kitt is going to be tied up with other things so I can't rely on her for help. And I really don't want to do this on my own. Besides, as you pointed out, you're good at kicking some serious butt."
"Yeah. And I wouldn't mind doing a little butt-kicking. It'd burn off some of this restless energy in a way that swimming and treadmills never could."
Oh, yes. He was restless all right. In the half hour since Kitt's call, Rick had raged like a storm through the house. Checking locks on windows and doors. Setting security systems. Double-checking everything. All the while grumbling and snarling.
Natalie totally understood his frustration. In addition to numerous roadblocks, fruitless calls and seemingly endless bad news, they were also going to have to live together.
It was necessity, she understood that, too. But she was under no illusions that this would be easy.
Nope.
The attraction and growing camaraderie between them was almost as dangerous as that fire had been.
She'd noticed the way Rick had looked at her earlier, before Kitt's bad-news call. And Natalie was reasonably sure that Rick had noticed the way she was looking at him.
Lustfully.
Yes, that was the only word for it. For some reason, she just kept thinking about him.
She blamed that on his jeans.
Great-looking, faded not by fashion but through frequent wear and washing. They fitted his butt to a T.
And she was so sorry she'd noticed that.
"I figured I'd hear a list of house rules by now," he commented.
"No rules." But she rethought that. In light of their long, smoldering looks and her raunchy thoughts about his jeans, there had to be at least one rule. "Well, except for kissing. We can't kiss."
Rick immediately waved that off. "Don't bother putting that off-limits. We're brainless when it comes to each other. Kissing, included."
She couldn't disagree with that. But she couldn't ignore or disagree with reality, either. "So, how do we come to terms with it and the promise we made to David?"
"We don't. We just keep trying to resist each other." He paused. "And because we're human, we'll keep failing."
His in-your-face honesty surprised her a little, though she didn't know why. There weren't many barriers left between them. That meant it was time for her to change the subject. It was the only chance they had of making it through this.
"Thank you for not treating me like a wimp," she said.
"Oh, you mean because I didn't let Kitt filter the bad news through me. You're tough as nails, Natalie. You don't need a filter."
She was glad he believed that, but she no longer felt so tough. "Actually, I just feel vulnerable."
He finished off his beer. "If you didn't feel that way, I'd be shocked. You've been through
a lot in the past forty-eight hours."
She thought about that. Nodded. "Maybe that's why the attraction has snowballed."
"Maybe." He stood so he could put the bottle in the recycling bin. "That's as good a reason as any."
With restlessness still evident in his eyes and body language, he walked to the CD system mounted beneath one of the cabinets and turned it on. He made a sound of approval when a sultry Trisha Yearwood song began to play.
"Kitt's music?" he asked.
"Mine."
Rick flexed his eyebrows. "You listen to country music?"
"On occasion." And because she felt the need to defend herself, she added. "Hey, I'm a Texan."
"You're highbrow."
"No. I'm not. Just because I own an antique business, doesn't make me highbrow."
"Living here like this does."
"Am I going to have to defend my lifestyle?" she asked stiffly.
"Nope. And I won't have to defend mine."
"Why would you have to anyway? You're a successful business owner. There's nothing to defend."
"That sounds like a compliment." He came back toward her, slowly, without breaking eye contact. There was no more restlessness in his expression. But there was some dark, edgy emotion that she didn't want to identify.
"It is a compliment. We don't have to be hostile towards each other, Rick."
She blinked when he took the little plastic jug of milk from her hand and set it on the table. She blinked again when he caught onto her and eased her to a standing position.
"Come here. Dance with me."
It took her a moment to realize he was serious. "No way. Remember that part about us being brainless. We get within ten feet of each other and we start kissing."
And, simply put, Natalie didn't know if she'd stop the next time.
"Either we dance, or we continue to sit at that table and go nuts," he reminded her, motioning for her to come to him. "No kissing. Promise."
She didn't believe him, but she suddenly didn't care. For just a moment, she wanted to feel the safety of his arms. And there was indeed safety there. Danger, too, but she decided it was worth the risk. Or maybe it was true—she was incapable of making wise choices when she got around Rick.
Natalie stepped into his arms to begin the dance.
Rick pulled her even closer, and he took the lead. Of course. She hadn't expected otherwise. He moved her into the rhythm of the smoky song. It didn't take her long to settle in, so to speak.
Natalie lowered her head, and her cheek brushed against his.
"Sorry. I didn't shave," Rick apologized.
"I don't mind. It makes you look a little like a desperado, and it goes well with your bad-boy image." Which led her to something that'd been on her mind for years. "Do you have any tattoos?"
"Why?"
"Idle curiosity."
His frown conveyed his skepticism.
"Okay. It's more than idle curiosity," she confessed. "Kitt and I used to speculate about it when we were teenagers. She figured you for a butt tat. I figured you for an arm man. I seem to recall we have a bet on it."
"How much?"
"I think it was five dollars." Except she didn't have to think. She knew it was five bucks. If pressed, Natalie could probably recall the year and the month they'd made such a wager.
More frowning, and he shook his head. "I had no idea you two would discuss something like that."
Natalie felt herself blush. Kitt and she had discussed far more than tattoos. Rick had been the subject of many of their teenage fantasies.
"So, which is it—do you have a butt or arm tattoo?" Natalie pressed.
"Right shoulder."
She smiled. "I win. I was at least in the right general vicinity. Kitt was way off."
He chuckled, his chest moving against her breasts. The sensation curled through her. A bad sensation. And Natalie eased away from him.
Rick eased her right back to him.
"I said no kissing," he reminded her. "And I meant it. Our lips will never touch."
Obviously. Because he didn't look down at her when he said that, and he kept his mouth at a reasonable distance from hers. She couldn't say the same for their bodies. No reasonable distance there.
They were touching.
She was about to remind him this wasn't a good idea, but then she felt something on her cheek. No desperado stubble this time. It was his breath, and it seemed to caress her. Of course, that was probably her imagination.
What wasn't her imagination was that they moved even closer. Natalie couldn't say who was responsible for that; it just happened.
Rick made the next thing happen though. He moved slightly so that his nose and mouth were against her hair. It seemed intimate, and it caused all kinds of alarms to go off in her head.
"You need to relax," he said, his voice low and smoky like the music.
Oh, so that's what this was all about. Not foreplay. Not torture. His attempt to get her to relax. For the sake of the baby, no doubt.
It was working.
Sort of.
Natalie could almost feel her muscles loosening. But other parts of her were all too aware that she was in a body lock with Rick. It didn't help when he moved his clever fingers along the small of her back. Small, slow, deliberate circles. Like a massage.
An erotic one.
She could feel his heartbeat against her breast. It was racing. Or maybe that was hers. Natalie could no longer tell where her body ended and his began.
Rick was true to his word. He didn't kiss her. But his breath did. It moved against her skin as his fingers worked their magic. But those fingers became even more magical when he eased his hand between them to cup her breast.
"I'm not kissing you," he said. He repeated it even as he swiped his thumb over her erect nipple.
Natalie lost her breath and suddenly didn't care if she ever found it. That touch ignited a fire inside her. A blazing one. And her body automatically went in search of something more.
Rick gave her more.
He pressed harder against her. No random body placement, either. He slid his arm back around her waist and used it to lift her slightly so that she could feel his erection. And Natalie felt it all right. Worse, she wanted more of it.
All of it.
All of Rick.
He lowered his mouth to her ear. "I won't kiss you. Just relax."
"I can't relax. We're making out in my kitchen."
"We're dancing," he reminded her.
"It's foreplay."
"No." He stopped and eased her against the counter. "This is foreplay."
She didn't have time to question what he meant by that. His hand left her breast and slid down her body. Touching her all along the way and making her hotter than anything she could have ever imagined. Mercy, she wanted him.
He caught onto her dress, and she didn't stop him when that hand began to make its way up her thigh.
"We can't have sex," Natalie heard herself say though she had no idea how she managed something as complex as human speech.
"We're not going to have sex."
"No, we're not."
Natalie hated that she felt so disappointed, but that particular feeling was quickly replaced by the jolt of pleasure that came when he slid a hand into her panties.
"What do you like?" he asked. He was gentle. Slow. And by the time he eased his fingers into her, Natalie could only stand there and take everything he was giving her.
She shook her head. "This."
"There's more. We can just play. Just have a few minutes of fun. How about I talk dirty to you?" And he tested out a few hot suggestions that made her hotter. Wetter. She moved her hips forward, thrusting herself against his fingers.
"So, you like dirty talk," he concluded since she'd apparently lost her ability to speak. "How about this?"
He touched his mouth to that little place just below her ear. Mercy, it was sensitive. Natalie had no idea just how much until he bit gently and ran h
is tongue over her skin. She might have taken a moment to savor that particular sensation if the center of her body weren't begging for release.
His hand, his fingers, those insistent strokes were maddening. Rick continued with the tongue touches beneath her ear. He continued to shove his body into hers so that the pressure and the pleasure were unbearable.
Natalie didn't even bother to try to hang on. She gave in to his touch. She let herself go, and the world was suddenly a fireball. Blazing. And she came in a flash, her focus pinpointed on him.
Rick caught onto her when her legs gave way, and he held her until she returned to earth. Natalie was suddenly aware of her racing breath, her pounding heart and her sweat-dampened body.
She was also aware of what she'd just done.
Oh, mercy.
What had she just done?
"Now, you can really relax," Rick said, his mouth still against her ear.
That created a jolt of a different kind. Not a good kind, either. "Please don't tell me that was a pity orgasm because I'm pregnant with your baby."
He pulled back far enough to give her a flat look. "Trust me, I wasn't thinking about the pregnancy when I had my hand in your panties. I was thinking about hauling you onto the counter, unzipping my jeans and sinking hard and deep into you. And the pity part—not a chance. I don't have pity on my mind right now."
And to prove his point, he moved his hand and gave her an eye-crossing nudge with his erection.
"Oh," she mumbled.
"Yes, oh. Glad we could clear that up. Now, you can finish your milk and get some rest."
It seemed a nice tidy ending to something that had been far from tidy. But he was wrong about one thing. That orgasm didn't help her relax. It only made her want to go back and finish that counter and unzipped jeans scenario.
She wanted the dirty talk.
She wanted sex on the counter.
She wanted sex with Rick.
Natalie tried to hide what she was thinking, but she obviously failed miserably.
"No, you don't," Rick warned. "I know that look, and we're not going to do anything about it."
That sounded like a challenge. Okay. It only sounded that way because she was still aroused. Way too aroused. The orgasm had only whetted her appetite for something much, much more.
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