by Rebecca York
Chapter Fourteen
Ben sat at the kitchen table watching Jenny make hamburger stroganoff for supper. He had a feeling she was showing off, demonstrating again how efficient she was in the kitchen. But he already knew she was incredible and that he’d never regret asking her to marry him. Really, when you thought about it, the decision wasn’t so rash. He’d had a crush on Jenny since high school, though he hadn’t been able to do anything about it then. She’d been in his mind for years. When he’d found her again, all the old feelings had come surging back. Only now she was a mature woman who had fulfilled the promise of the girl he’d known. More than fulfilled it—because the things that had happened to her had made her stronger and more adept. It had only taken a little while to realize he’d be a fool to let her go again.
He cracked his knuckles, and she half turned to give him a little smile.
“So now you’re slowly letting me discover your bad habits.”
“Right.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. You should be, too. I think we both worked up an appetite over the past couple of days.”
She blushed.
“I’m grinning at you,” he informed her. “It’s a wicked grin—based on fond memories of keeping you in bed all day.”
“You like to say things that will embarrass me, make my face turn red.”
“And your neck. And shoulders. And—” He peered at the vee of skin visible at the top of her button-down shirt.
“Stop!”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you get dressed.”
Without bothering to answer, she turned back to the skillet. He stretched out his jean-clad legs and crossed them at the ankles. He thought about how good he felt, happier than he ever could remember being, then his beeper went off.
“I’ll be right back,” he told her as he trotted toward the office. He’d been expecting a report from Diangelo on the Techno Transfer raid.
“Well, did they hit the place?” he asked his partner.
“Yeah.”
“What took so long?”
“There was a problem with the paperwork for the search warrant. Anyway, it didn’t go down the way you figured.”
Ben gripped the receiver.
“For starters, the guy in charge—L. J. Smith—is dead. It looks like some of the employees came to work, saw the body, and split. So Fraud was only able to scoop up three of them.”
“Not the one we wanted, I assume.”
“I don’t know for sure yet, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Ben scowled. He’d been so damn close. Now they were back to square one.
“I suppose Smith didn’t keel over from a heart attack.”
“One shot in the chest. Another to the head, just to make sure. The M.E. says it happened sometime yesterday. There was a gun in a holster under the desk but he never got a chance to use it.” Diangelo sighed. “Sorry. I knew you were hoping we were going to wrap this up.”
“Murphy’s Law,” Ben muttered, already thinking of alternate plans.
When he returned to the kitchen, Ben was glad Jenny couldn’t see his face. But she read his mood somehow.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table.
“How do you know there’s something wrong?”
She turned from the stove and appeared to fix him with an analytical stare. It was all he could do to keep from lowering his eyes.
“You left in a hurry like you were expecting a present. When you came back into the room, your walk was slow and heavy as if you were carrying an enormous weight on your shoulders.”
“You’ve got me pegged.” He let out a long sigh. He didn’t want to spoil the rest of the afternoon, but his police training was too ingrained to lie about her being in danger. He told her the details.
“I’m probably going to be working overtime to bring in the killer. Is there someplace you could stay until we catch the killer?”
He saw her swallow and suspected she was trying not to panic. Yet when she spoke, it was to protest his suggestion.
“I don’t want to impose on any of my friends.”
“They won’t see it that way.”
“Ben, I won’t be comfortable at someone else’s house.”
“It’s only for a few days.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Stop pushing me. I—” she gulped “—I promised myself I’d never again let a man talk me into something that felt wrong!”
He studied the rigid lines of her face. “You can’t let what happened twelve years ago be the basis for every decision you make,” he said, perhaps with more exasperation than he should have allowed himself.
“Excuse me?”
“I assume you’re talking about Craig Coopersmith persuading you to drive.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“This is entirely different. He was drunk the night of the accident. And he was abusive. You tried to argue with him, but he made it practically impossible for you to say you wouldn’t drive home. He didn’t care about what happened to you. I do.”
She stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed. “How do you know all that?”
Too late he realized he’d said too much.
“How do you know?” she shot at him again.
“I was at the party.”
“And you neglected to tell me that important fact?”
“I was going to tell you that evening when I brought you home from Fells Point but you jumped out of the car before I had a chance.”
“You’ve had plenty of chances since then.”
He slicked a hand through his hair. “I was waiting for the right time,” he muttered.
“Speak up. I have to rely on my ears. I can’t see the expression on your face. I can’t judge how much you’re hiding. So you were at the party watching me drink? Watching us fight? What?”
He thumped his fist against the table top, and she jumped.
“Okay. You want to hear it all? I’ll tell you the whole story. Every damn detail. I was at the party watching you all evening, wishing I was your date, wishing you liked me instead of that jerk Craig Coopersmith—because I knew I would have treated you a lot better than he did. I was in love with you. I wanted to be the one you were kissing. But it was hopeless, because you were older than I was. You didn’t even know I was alive. When Craig started saying you were going to have to drive I could tell you were embarrassed and worried. Probably you didn’t want to lose face in front of your friends. I wanted to butt in and say I’d take you. But I knew that would have been even more embarrassing for you.”
She seemed to be too stunned to say anything, so he continued.
“You may feel guilty about what happened that night. But so do I, because I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. When I heard about the accident the next day, I went out speeding in my car and damned near wound up wrapped around a tree. I told you I made some changes my junior year in high school. Well, you were the reason. When I got back from driving around like a maniac I vowed I was going to be a better person. That I’d never let something bad happen to someone else because I was afraid of getting cut down. Almost every decision I’ve made since then goes back to the night I let you leave the party. Do you understand?”
She didn’t answer. He didn’t know whether he was getting through to her. And he didn’t get a chance to press the point, because at that moment the smell of charring beef suddenly filled the kitchen. Jenny snatched the pan off the burner and it clattered into the sink.
“Don’t,” he shouted when she reached for the water.
It was already too late. A cloud of steam rose and sizzled in her face as he jumped from his chair.
She coughed as he pulled her back and turned off the faucet. He pushed back her hair. She hadn’t burned her face, thank God. “You’re okay.” When he tried to take her into his arms, she stiffened.
“It’s too much right now. It’s all…too much. I’ve spe
nt the past twelve years trying to forget the night I killed Craig Coopersmith.”
“You didn’t kill him. It wasn’t your fault!”
She ignored him. “And you keep bringing it back to me. Maybe this just won’t work.”
“I won’t let you think that! The accident wasn’t your fault. You had the right of way. And even if you hadn’t, Craig forced you to drive.”
“Don’t make excuses. I made the decision to get behind the wheel. If I’d been sober, maybe I would have stopped when the other car jumped the light.”
He had to convince her, so he gripped her by the shoulders and went on in a rush of words. “You cut yourself off from all your friends. But Craig wasn’t worth it. He was no good for you. Any fool could see that he was taking what he could get Is he the one who convinced you that sex was something guys enjoyed and girls did because they were being accommodating? Or was it worse than that? Did he say you weren’t any good at it? Is he the boy who kept you from making love all these years? Is he the one who kept you from loving anyone?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “So is that why you got involved with me? Because you felt sorry for needy little Ms. Larkin?”
“Of course not! I got involved with you because I couldn’t help myself. You were everything I always wanted, and I couldn’t stay away from you.”
It was clear she wasn’t listening to him anymore. “I need to be alone,” she said in a strangled voice.
“Jenny,” he pleaded, but his hands dropped away from her. In his rush to convince her, he’d told her too much— things he’d thought over the years, conclusions he’d come to since they’d met again. He should have kept them to himself until later.
She was standing with her hands clenched in front of her and her jaw so tight it looked like it would shatter. Seeing her that way made his insides knot. He wanted to hold her and kiss her until she understood how he felt about her. But he knew she wouldn’t yield to a show of force.
“Okay. I’ll be in the office checking out World Connect to see if—” He stopped, shaking his head. Everything he said seemed to lead to a topic better not discussed. He supposed it was lucky she couldn’t see a picture of his former wife. Because if she did, she’d realize Brenna looked a lot like her. Only she hadn’t been Jenny, and it hadn’t worked out. But there was no use bringing that up. It wouldn’t help any more than the other stupid things he’d blurted out.
“I—I’d like you to leave,” she said.
“I can’t do that.” He heard his voice crack and knew that if he kept talking much longer he was going to sabotage his image as a strong male.
“This is my house.”
“That’s true. But I’m not going to leave until I know you’re safe. We’ll talk about it when you’re not so upset.”
Turning on his heel, he left the room, his footsteps ringing hollowly on the wooden floor. The light from the computer screen glowed at him as he stopped at the office door. It would be dark in another hour, he thought. That didn’t make any difference to Jenny, but it might to the killer. No matter how she felt about the two of them, he wasn’t going to leave her until he knew she was safe—here or in another location where nobody could get to her.
DEEP IN THE SHADOW of the pine trees, the watcher lowered his binoculars and uttered a few choice words. He’d been here half the day and nothing had changed. It looked like the damn cop had moved in. Jenny Larkin’s personal protection service. Was she paying him, or was he just enjoying the benefits of her bed and board?
He snorted, then reached for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Before he lit up, he stopped. The other day he’d seen her standing in the front hall sniffing the smoke. If he smoked, he could give himself away again.
It didn’t look like she or the cop was going anywhere. Maybe he’d check them out with the directional mike he’d turned off because the sappy dialogue was making him sick. If everything was the same, he could stop at the sub shop for something to eat.
The watcher started to turn toward his car when he heard a door open. Wait a minute. It was too good to be true. He held his breath, watching in fascination as she stepped out onto the deck. Alone. Without her private bodyguard.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Come here, baby!” he murmured as she took a couple of steps away from the house. “Come a little closer before that cop realizes you’re missing.”
BEN SAT in front of the computer trying to do something constructive. But all he could think about was Jenny and how he’d screwed things up with her. He’d made a mess of it from the start. Or had he? Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out any differently if he’d come clean with her from the beginning. She’d only have had more time to build up her defenses.
But now his pain was like a fresh knife wound—sharp and stinging. Because he’d kissed her. Made love to her. Opened his soul to her. She’d told him she loved him and wanted to have his baby. Lord, what if she were already carrying his child? he thought with a mixture of longing and anguish. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stand the thought of losing her now that what he wanted most in the world was shimmering in front of him. Yet when he reached for it, it moved out of his grasp.
He should give her the time she wanted. But he was too nervous to stay away from her when their whole future was hanging in the balance. Maybe he’d think of something to say, something that would make her understand how much he loved her. Quietly he went down the hall toward the kitchen. He’d see how she looked before he said anything. Or maybe it was safer just to keep his mouth shut. But he had to see her. She might not even know he was there, and he could just stand and look at her.
The smell of charred hamburger drifted toward him, but when he looked through the doorway, the room was empty.
“Jenny?”
She didn’t answer, and wild panic seized him. He charged into the room. The burned pan was still in the sink. How long had he been in the office? Twenty minutes? Anything could have happened.
Telling himself to stay calm, he checked the pantry. She wasn’t there, either. He listened intently and heard nothing.
“Jenny?”
His heart in his throat, he dashed into the living room. It was as empty as the kitchen. He was about to start searching the upstairs when he glanced out the window. She was on the deck that wrapped around the side of the house, her hand gripping the railing and her face turned toward the woods.
Relief slammed into him like a tidal wave crashing into a shore line. His next emotion was anger. What the hell was she doing out there? He’d told her to stay inside, hadn’t he? His hand was shaking as he pulled open the door and stepped outside.
He knew she heard him because of the way her shoulders tensed. Yeah, she knew he was there, all right. But she didn’t turn around. He tried to control his tone. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” he said.
“If you’re going to stay in the house, then I need to be outside where I can think,” she murmured, so low he could barely hear.
“I told you I’d keep out of your way.”
“Yes, but I can’t trust you anymore.”
He raked an exasperated hand through his hair. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, force her to respond to him. “Please,” was all he allowed himself.
“I can’t turn off the way I feel.”
“Neither can I.”
She bowed her head.
“Don’t throw away what we’ve made together because I used poor judgment”
She dragged in a long breath and let it out in a rush. “I told you, Ben. Maybe I’m not being rational. I can’t think straight. All I know is that I need to be by myself for a while. I’m used to being by myself. So don’t try to persuade me. I have to figure this out on my own.”
He couldn’t stop himself from pushing her to the limit. “What if you’re going to have my baby?”
She made a little choking sound that brought a terrible, tight constriction to his throat. When she turned toward him, he saw that she’d been c
rying. His insides ached with wanting to cross the few feet of space that separated them. But he stayed rooted to the spot where he stood. “I love you. Everything I’ve done—everything you’re holding against me—is because I don’t want to lose you.”
He saw her swallow hard. He wanted to tell her that if she was carrying his baby, then she didn’t have a prayer of getting away from him because there was no way he wasn’t going to be a father to his child. But he knew it would sound like a threat, and that would only make things worse. And he knew in some small compartment of his mind that he meant it as a threat.
While he scrambled for something more to say, the sound of a car on the gravel drive made them both jump. He reached for the gun tucked into the waistband of his slacks before he realized he didn’t need it.
“Howard County police,” he told her.
Some of the tension went out of her face.
The car came to a halt at the edge of the parking area. The uniformed officer got out and walked along the garden paths to the deck.
“I assume you’re Ben Brisco,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Denton Kane. I’ve been assigned guard duty.”
“I wasn’t informed of that.”
“We just got the word. You can check with our chief if you want.”
“No. That’s okay.”
“Detective Brisco was hoping to take a break,” Jenny cut in.
Kane touched his hat, then looked slightly flustered as he remembered she couldn’t see him. “Miss Larkin?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
Ben’s gaze shot to her. She was standing very still, her face turned away from him. Probably she was ecstatic that Officer Kane had intervened in their two-person drama.
“I can take the evening shift,” Kane said. “You could report back in the morning.”
“No need. I’ll be going to work in the morning,” Jenny said coolly.
