by Debra Webb
She shuddered with the intensity of the sensations as his hand glided over her thigh. “Hurry,” she gasped.
He shoved his jeans down, not taking the time or the energy to shuck them entirely. He nuzzled between her thighs. And she almost came.
She screamed her impatience. He understood. But he didn’t dive right in the way she wanted him to. He took it slow, one expanding inch at a time. Just when she was about to grab him by the hips and surge upward, he plunged fully inside her. Climax rippled through her. They both cried out this time.
How had she lived this long without this wondrous sensation in her life? This amazing feeling of completion?
His movements controlled to the point that he shook with the effort, he took her to climax again before he allowed himself the pleasure of joining her.
Nothing had ever felt this good.
Chapter Twelve
Keith leaned against the trunk and stared into the night. Man, he’d really made a mess of this.
He blew out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest to keep his hands from trembling. Major disaster.
How the hell had he fallen in love with Ashley Orrick in forty-eight hours?
Over and over during the past couple of days, he’d told himself that it was just lust. An attraction. Maybe even a little caveman protective instinct. Nothing else.
He hadn’t allowed any of the minirelationships he’d entered into to move beyond superficial dating. Not since he’d come to work at the Colby Agency two years ago. He’d been too focused on his work.
If he took a long hard look at his love life to this point, he’d never really been deeply involved with any woman. It wasn’t that he was old-fashioned, not at all. Sex was great. He liked it a lot. No, no. He loved it. But maybe he’d been saving his heart for just the right woman. Someone who made him feel…what he’d just felt in the backseat of this damned rented clunker of a sedan.
Not sexual gratification. There were a lot of ways to work off sexual frustration. He’d mastered most of them, including running until he exhausted himself. Nope, this feeling was something more. A high he’d never experienced before.
That left the age-old question of what now?
He was supposed to turn her location, if not her, over to the man whom she feared worse than death. His assignment included attempting to prod information about the whereabouts of her son out of her. He’d really fallen down on that job. Big-time.
Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for field work. He’d worried that it was a mistake, but Victoria had assured him that he was ready. He had to confess, the idea had been flattering. He’d always been a sort of wallflower. Breaking away from a desk was a significant step for him. And look how he’d screwed up.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. The scent of the woman he’d just made love to lingered there, making his breath catch. He was being selfish. She surely had mixed emotions about what had just happened. Especially considering what she was going through.
The rear passenger door opened and she emerged from the car just then. Like him she folded her arms protectively over her chest and strode toward the trunk, looking pretty much anywhere but at him. He couldn’t read her eyes, but the realization that she dreaded looking at him bothered him a good deal more than it should have.
She propped herself on the trunk next to him. “I suppose we should talk about this.” She shrugged. “I…” She moistened her lips. “I know I’m okay. You know, clean. What about you?”
Startled at the question, he abruptly realized that he shouldn’t be. “I’m…ah…clean, too. There’s nothing you need to worry about.” They hadn’t used a condom. The idea of protection hadn’t even crossed his mind. Just another place where he’d fallen down on his responsibilities.
She nodded. “Good. I’m not on the pill or anything, but…I was thinking—” she hitched her thumb toward the car “—in there that this time of the month was pretty safe. It should be okay.”
He hadn’t even thought of that. Incredibly, in spite of the risks they’d both just taken, tension started to vibrate through him all over again simply standing this close…hearing her tinkling voice.
“I want you to know,” she said, turning to face him, “that I take full responsibility for what happened. I was…maybe a little needy.”
“Ten years, huh?” he had to ask. That was a hell of a long time. Two years felt like forever. He couldn’t imagine…the idea of how afraid she was of Van Valkenberg derailed that thought. No wonder she hadn’t let herself get close to anyone else. It was a miracle she’d let him as close as she had.
She nodded. “I hope I didn’t scare you or anything.”
He choked back a laugh. “Believe me, there was nothing frightening about your eagerness.” He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms and just hold her. But would that only complicate the already complex situation? “And this is every bit as much my responsibility as yours.”
“So, what do we do now?”
He blew out a breath. “I’ll call Ben. He’ll contact a tow service in the nearest town and we’ll be rescued.” Again, he didn’t add.
Headlights came into view in the distance.
Keith squinted at the brightness as he tried to make out the type of vehicle headed in their direction.
“Hold up,” Ashley said as she jogged to the side of the road.
Several seconds passed before he realized what she was attempting to do.
“Don’t do that.” He started toward her but she gestured for him to stay away. “Hitchhiking is dangerous,” he argued.
She ignored him. Instead, she focused on waving and jumping up and down to get the trucker’s attention. Big rig running without a load. Damn, wasn’t she worried that he wouldn’t slow down, much less stop?
Apparently not.
Before he could grab her, she’d rushed into the middle of the road.
His heart lunged into his throat.
The squall of air brakes rent the air and, incredibly, the truck slid to a stop.
Ashley jumped onto the running board and spoke to the driver. Keith eased closer in an attempt to hear her words.
“The nearest service station would be great,” she said.
He couldn’t make out what the driver said.
“I really appreciate it.” Ashley jumped off the running board and jogged over to where Keith stood, still a little shell-shocked. “Lock up the car. We’ve got a ride as far as we want to go.”
He clicked the remote and followed her around to the passenger side of the big truck. When he’d assisted her up into the seat, he climbed aboard.
“You didn’t tell me how cute he was.”
Keith’s gaze crashed into the driver’s. Female. Fifty, maybe, with a lumberjack build.
“Yeah, he’s cute.” Ashley grinned at him. “But you have to keep an eye on him. He’s a heartbreaker.”
The older woman laughed loudly. “Aren’t they all?”
With that insight, she shoved the truck into gear and roared forward.
As the speedometer’s digital readout soared toward the triple digits, he reached for his seat belt.
He sat back and tried not to notice how fast they were going. Most of his attention was focused on the two women chatting as if they’d known each other forever.
During the next hour and a half, he learned several things he didn’t know about Ashley Orrick. She adored strawberries and she never missed an episode of her favorite crime scene investigation program. The latter didn’t surprise him in the least.
But it was the hurt in her voice when she talked about her son to the woman that damaged his defenses the most. She made up an elaborate story about how he was spending the summer with her folks at the beach. He loved the water, she explained. And the sand. Building sand castles was his favorite outdoor activity.
He relaxed, forgot all about the speed at which they were traveling. He was mesmerized by the sound of her voice and the stories she weaved, half-truths mixed in
with covers to hide her true identity.
This was the life she had lived for ten years.
That had to have taken its toll.
It occurred to him that she fully anticipated never returning to the home she’d left in Waynesville. Whatever life she’d built there was, as far as she was concerned, over. Now she sat, quietly telling about a new life, the one where she moved close to her folks in California.
His job was to see that California never happened, at least not until Van Valkenberg had departed this world. He wanted his son in Chicago, near him for his remaining days. Ashley was scared to death of him; she would never go for that. Not unless the law forced her to.
It was Keith’s job to ensure she faced that legal battle if a cordial agreement couldn’t be reached.
What did that make him?
The enemy.
The same kind of monster her mother had spoken of so vehemently.
And all this time he’d thought he was one of the good guys.
ASHLEY SCRUBBED the dingy mirror and stared at her reflection. They’d waited for three hours for the tow truck to get back with the rental. Now, the mechanic on duty was considering the problem.
It was almost 4 a.m. She hadn’t slept at all.
Hadn’t been able to.
She kept thinking about how it felt to make love with Keith. So far, she hadn’t found the first word that even came close to describing it.
Amazing was far too generic to describe the experience.
Did he feel the same way?
That was a totally stupid question. She was his assignment, not his girlfriend.
Dark circles were painted beneath her eyes. She needed sleep, but she couldn’t let her guard down. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Keith to keep his end of this bargain, but she knew Desmond too well. He could send his own team in if things weren’t happening on his timetable.
She shuddered at the thought of even seeing him again. He was sick. A total bastard.
“Don’t think about him.”
Kicking her troubles out of her mind for a while, she went about cleaning up a little. The rough paper towels made for less-than-luxurious washcloths, but just now she felt lucky to have them. She dug her brush out of her purse and tugged it through her hair.
She wanted to relish last night. Wanted to think about how incredible being with Keith had felt. But she had to get her head back on straight. They would be home soon. She’d show him the tape and see how he reacted.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed he would be on her side. She desperately needed him to be.
She was so tired of being in this alone. That wasn’t fair. She had her mother, Marla and Gina. But that wasn’t the same as having a man who cared about you standing next to you.
Enough of that. She couldn’t change the choices she’d made in her life. She’d go through all of it again, over and over, if it meant having Jamie.
He was everything to her.
She had to protect him. Keith didn’t understand, she feared. And neither would a judge. He would only see that she had deprived a man of his son. Unless the evidence she had hidden was sufficient, she didn’t have a chance proving what a monster Desmond was.
The thought of having to turn Jamie over to him for even a day terrified her.
Whatever it took, she couldn’t let that happen.
A knock on the door made her jump.
She took a moment to calm herself. “Yeah?”
“The car’s ready. You okay in there?”
She touched the door, wished she could touch the man. Lean on him the way she longed to. But she couldn’t allow anymore lapses.
This was far too important.
SHE SAID NOTHING as they drove the final hour and fifteen minutes to her childhood home.
Keith had attempted to start a conversation a couple of times but she hadn’t picked up the thread.
Dawn had arrived and he had to restrain the urge to look at her far too often. He didn’t want to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she already did.
He’d spent all those hours at the service station wrestling with what exactly the right thing to do was. Talk about a dilemma. He’d seriously put himself smack in the middle of one. Sadly, there didn’t appear to be an easy out or fix for the situation.
As much as he’d like to venture into the subject with her, he sensed that she didn’t want to go there.
The one conclusion he had reached despite his precarious position in all this was that he could not—would not—turn her or her location over to Van Valkenberg’s people until he was certain it was safe to do so.
He turned onto the long gravel drive that led to the deteriorating farm house.
“Stop!”
The fierce emotion behind the one word had him engaging the brake even before the meaning registered.
“I want to walk from here.”
He started to protest, but didn’t see any reason to. She got out of the car and started walking toward the home where her parents had raised her until she went off to college.
Was this the first time she’d been home since she’d run away?
Ten years was a long time…for a lot of things.
Taking her time, she surveyed the land around the home. It didn’t take much imagination to deduce that things would look way, way different now. When she’d lived here, all the land for as far as one could see had belonged to her family. Now new homes dotted the landscape, marring the natural beauty.
Nor did it take a crystal ball to figure out the land had been sold off to help her and her son. That realization had to have a tremendous impact on her now that she could see the results for herself.
Instead of driving around her, he sat there and watched her move closer to the home that had once been a lovely place. It now stood in a state of disrepair that would make the most hard-core do-it-yourselfer wince.
Was guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders?
As she walked up onto the porch, he let the car roll forward until he reached the house. He parked and got out at the same time that she entered the front door.
He walked in while she was still standing in the living room, taking inventory of the changes.
The room was tidy, like the last time he’d been here. The furniture looked worn, but it was clean and well loved judging by the numerous throw pillows and afghans arranged to give it a fresher appearance.
She smoothed her hand over the back of her mother’s chair. Keith remembered that Mary Orrick had chosen that seat when they’d talked a few nights ago.
At the fireplace, she lifted one of the framed photographs from the mantel and looked at it for a long time before moving on to the kitchen.
She opened the cupboard doors, one after the other as she moved through the room. When she reached the fridge, she opened the door and crouched down to peer inside.
Not much in the way of supplies.
Ashley pushed to her feet, closed the door and walked over to him. “How did she look?”
He chose his words carefully. The fragility in her eyes was killing him and he didn’t want to say anything to do any additional damage. “She looked brave and very intelligent.”
“Did she look well?” Her eyes searched his. She wanted to ensure he wasn’t holding anything back.
He nodded. “Yeah, she looked well.” A little thin, he didn’t add. At the time, he didn’t think anything of it. Most women preferred to be thin.
That seemed to appease her. “Good.” She walked past him then and started up the stairs.
She stopped to view each framed picture on the wall, as if seeing an old friend for the first time in a long time.
At the top of the stairs, she opened and went through the first door. Keith followed.
She inhaled deeply. “It smells like her.” A smile brightened her face. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve been here.”
Every room in the house was inspected in this manner. He had to say he enjoyed the time in
her bedroom. The old high school year books and cheerleading trophies. That was something he hadn’t known about her. She was Miss Popular in school. The total opposite of him.
When he asked why there weren’t any pictures of her son, she explained that her mother kept those with her at all times. She never left anything related to the last ten years in the house. He could understand that.
After she’d had her fill of memory lane, she turned to him. “I guess we should get down to business.”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
She hesitated at the door. “Keith, I want you to know that no matter what happens, I appreciate your patience. You’ve gone out of your way to be fair.”
Enough. He couldn’t do this without touching her. He pulled her close, tucked her against his chest. It felt right. “Whatever happens, I’ll be there, right beside you.”
She smiled, looked a bit teary-eyed. “Thanks.”
Pulling free of his embrace, she took his hand and led him downstairs. In the kitchen, she got a butter knife out of a drawer, then sat down on the floor near the back door. She wedged the knife under a floor-board and pried the board up. She pulled up another and then another. He knelt next to her, noticed that the boards weren’t nailed.
Beneath the boards was a lockbox. The kind people kept their wills and other important documents inside. Then she dug around in her purse and fished out the key.
The lockbox contained a single item. A videotape.
“This has your evidence on it?”
She nodded.
He stood, offered his hand to help her up. She took it, sending a protective feeling surging inside him.
The television set in the living room was equipped with a VCR. She turned both on and popped in the tape.
As the picture cleared, one of the images on the video was familiar. Desmond Van Valkenberg. He and a woman were engaged in seriously rough sex. Keith winced more than once at the brutality of the guy. He had to be disturbed to do this sort of thing.
Or maybe he just wanted to believe that because he wanted to believe Ashley.
As if reading his mind, she said, “There were hundreds of tapes like this.”
