She was a woman in transition, making the shift from being part of a couple to being alone. The last thing she wanted or needed in her life was to be the recipient of this ex-cop’s lust. And yet, in those moments before the alarm rang, he’d seen the secrets disappear from her eyes, to be replaced by stark desire.
Need. That was what he’d seen. The misplaced need of a frightened woman facing too many unknowns. At that moment she’d needed an anchor. She’d needed strong arms to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. He’d been the only strong arms in the room. It was only natural she would look to him with desire in her eyes. Not desire for Dominic the man, but a simple basic need to connect with someone...anyone.
Dominic had to be careful not to fall into the delusion that there could be anything between them. Apparently they were both at a needy place in their lives; the biggest mistake they could make would be to find temporary relief in each other’s arms.
“I think I’ve got everything I need to file a report,” Matt said as he stood from the sofa. “But you realize probably nothing will come from this. Unless whoever it was confesses, we probably won’t find out who tried to break in and why.”
Melissa nodded and stood as well. “Still, I appreciate you coming here so quickly.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Dominic said to Matt. Melissa and Matt exchanged goodbyes as Dominic led him outside.
“Thank God you had a security system,” Matt said as they stood on the front porch. He scanned the area. “Pretty isolated out here. The attempted break-in might be nothing more than an attempted robbery.”
“Knowing a man was stabbed to death here a week ago, don’t you find that a pretty big coincidence?” Dominic asked.
“Yeah, but you know that’s what Mawlins will chalk it up to.” Matt leaned against the passenger door of his patrol car. “I know you’re here because Samantha and Tyler Sinclair think Melissa might be in danger from the same person who killed Bill. But, as far as Mawlins is concerned, there is no danger to Melissa. No threats have been made against her, nothing has happened to indicate she might be in jeopardy.”
“Except we don’t know who tried to break in tonight, or why,” Dominic reminded Matt, although he’d had the same thoughts himself. He wanted to believe in Melissa’s innocence, but he couldn’t forget those bruises, and the secrets he sensed she guarded.
“Right.”
“You know anything about the alibis of the men who worked for Bill?” Dominic asked.
Matt frowned thoughtfully. “I know they were questioned. Seems to me like Sam Jacobson was having dinner with his wife...and I can’t remember about the other two.” Matt looked off in the distance. “I could check out the reports, let you know.”
Dominic looked at him in surprise. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything to get your butt in a sling.”
Matt grinned and looked back at Dominic. “I’m a master at covering my butt.” His smile faded. “Why didn’t you come back to the department, Dominic? You were a good cop—one of the best.”
This time it was Dominic who looked off into the distance, afraid Matt would see the gratitude shining in his eyes. Matt’s words were balm for a wounded spirit, succor for a damaged soul. “Because even though Abigail’s killer was caught, even though my name was cleared, I know there are still guys on the force who believe I had to have had something to do with her death. I couldn’t go back and see that in my fellow officers’ eyes.”
“Most of us believed in your innocence from the very beginning,” Matt said. “And no matter how bad the evidence looked, we continued to believe in your innocence.”
Dominic nodded, this time meeting Matt’s gaze. “Thanks. That’s nice to hear.”
Matt went around the car to the driver’s door. “I’ll be in touch concerning those alibi statements.”
“I appreciate it.”
With a quick wave, Matt got into his car and a moment later drove down the driveway. Dominic watched until the car lights disappeared, as if swallowed by the shadows of night, then turned and walked back up the porch.
It surprised him, how good it felt to know that there had been fellow officers who’d believed in him despite the incriminating circumstances of Abigail’s murder.
And even though he knew he was innocent of all culpability where Abigail’s death was concerned, he couldn’t rid himself of the weight of guilt that remained—the guilt of a man who’d loved a woman he shouldn’t have, who’d known all along that loving her was futile, but who’d been unable to stop.
Even though Abigail and Melissa were two very different kinds of women, Dominic realized something about Melissa was drawing him into those same old feelings. Once again he was beginning to care about a woman who was inappropriate for him, and if he allowed his feelings to continue, it could only lead to heartache.
He started for the front door, then hesitated, reluctant to go back into the house where he would see Melissa, smell the sweet scent of her.
Instead, he sat down on the porch. He closed his eyes, remembering that moment earlier when Melissa had looked up at him, her lips parting as if eagerly anticipating the touch of his. Thank God the alarm had gone off before he had managed to do something incredibly stupid. And kissing Melissa would definitely have been stupid.
If Melissa was innocent, then somehow, some way, he had to find out who had killed Bill as soon as possible. He had to discover who was responsible and see them arrested so that Melissa would be out of danger and he could get the hell out of her house...and out of her life.
“Mike Withers was supposedly with his girlfriend on the night of Bill’s murder, but when Tyler leaned on her, she wasn’t sure if they were actually together around six o‘clock or if it was somewhat later.” Samantha paced back and forth across the kitchen floor.
It had been ten days since the attempted break-in, and two days since Dominic’s friend at the police department had called him to inform him about the alibis of the men who worked for Bill. For the last two days, Samantha and Tyler had been chasing around confirming those alibis.
“What about Neal Cook?”
“Neal Cook says he was in the diner eating supper at the time of the murder,” Tyler said. “I spoke with Wanda down at the diner and she says Neal eats there most evenings, but she can’t be sure he was there that particular evening.”
“And Sam Jacobson’s alibi is that he was home with his wife.” Dominic frowned. “Three alibis, but none of them ironclad.”
Samantha began moving back and forth, her footsteps short and staccato against the tiled kitchen floor. “You didn’t find anything at all in Bill’s files that sent up a red flag?”
“No. Nothing,” Melissa replied. “And could you please stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.” Samantha halted, obviously surprised by the sharpness of Melissa’s tone. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Melissa apologized as Samantha joined them at the table.
“It’s okay.” Samantha smiled reassuringly and touched Melissa’s hand. “You have a right to be a bit churlish.”
“I just feel as if an ax is hanging over my head. If I’m going to be charged with Bill’s murder, I just wish they’d go ahead and do it. At least then I’d have a better idea of what I’m up against.” Melissa sighed in frustration.
“Not what you’re up against—what we’re up against,” Samantha replied. “You aren’t in this alone, Melissa.”
Melissa nodded and shot a quick glance at Dominic, who stared out the window as if detached from the conversation. Detached. He’d been that way ever since the night of the attempted break-in, the night of their almost-kiss.
Even now, the memory of the look in his eyes, the warmth of his hand on her shoulder caused a responding warmth throughout her body. She should be grateful the alarm had rung, stopping the moment before a mistake was made. What would Dominic have thought of her if she’d followed through on her desire, encouraged a kiss, a caress with her husband barely cold in his grave?
&n
bsp; And if in a moment of weakness she allowed the secret of Bill’s abuse to spill from her, he would never understand. Nobody would.
She also knew Dominic continued to have some doubts concerning her innocence in Bill’s death—doubts that showed in his eyes at unguarded moments, in the occasional questions he asked. She could do nothing to convince him of her innocence; she could do nothing to take those doubts from his eyes.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked in an attempt to dispel thoughts of Dominic—thoughts of being held in warm, safe arms, making love—from her mind.
“Keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Tyler answered. “Keep turning over rocks, digging for dirt, hoping we get a break. Somebody wanted Bill dead, and I’m certainly convinced it wasn’t just a random act of violence. The killer was smart enough to leave nothing behind.”
Samantha nodded. “There was a reason for this murder, and if we can just discover that, we’ll be closer to discovering who the hell did it. You still haven’t remembered where Bill came from? Where he lived before coming to Wilford?
“No.” A cold wind of despair blew through Melissa. “I keep hoping it will come to me, or we’ll run across some paperwork that will tell us.”
“Keep looking,” Samantha replied as she stood. “Now we’ve got to run. We’ve got to be in court by three.”
Melissa stood as well to walk her sister and brother-in-law to the door. As they passed through the living room, Samantha paused to smile down at the baby who slept peacefully on a blanket on the floor. “When he wakes up, you give him a great big kiss from his Aunt Samantha.”
Melissa smiled. The one spot of joy in all the madness that was her life, was little Jamison. He transformed her despair into hope, eased her pain with his unconditional love. He kept her strong, willing to fight, whatever came her way. “You’ve got it,” she replied.
“You must have missed Samantha when she was gone from Wilford,” Dominic commented moments later when he and Melissa were alone in the kitchen.
Melissa leaned against the refrigerator, thinking back to that time almost seven years before when Samantha had left Wilford. “I did miss her, and I hated her for leaving Wilford, leaving me behind.”
She looked at Dominic who still sat at the table. “You and your father are close, aren’t you?” He nodded. “You’re lucky. My father wasn’t close to either Samantha or me. At the best of times, he was merely distant, uninvolved. At the worst of times he could be cold and cruel.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, remembering those days after Samantha had left—days when she’d felt so alone in the big house that had never been a real home. “I hated Samantha for being strong enough to escape, hated her for being able to leave and never look back.” She shrugged, not wanting to dwell on her childhood, on things that couldn’t be changed. “Then I met Bill and we got married, and I didn’t have time to be angry at Samantha anymore. I was too busy changing from the role of perfect daughter into that of perfect wife.” To her horror, tears blurred her vision.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Dominic’s voice—so deep, so gentle—caused her tears to flow faster. He took a step toward her, obviously wanting to comfort her but unsure how.
Melissa knew exactly how she wanted him to comfort her. Without hesitation, she moved to where he stood. His arms opened, as if with an unconscious will, and she leaned into him, wanting to be held, needing to be held.
For a moment his arms remained opened, as if he was afraid to embrace. It wasn’t until she wound her arms around his back that he enfolded her. She buried her face in the dark recess of his neck where a strong, solid pulse beat. She smelled the heady masculine scent of him as her tears continued to fall.
She wasn’t even sure why she was crying; she knew only that emotion pressed thick and heavy in her chest.
“Shh, it’s all right,” he whispered softly as he pulled her closer against him.
The solid wall of his chest comforted her. It had been so very long since she’d been held in masculine arms, unafraid that the embrace would be followed by a sly pinch or a sudden slap.
Her tears ebbed and she curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, kept her face burrowed against the warm skin of his throat. Where before, sadness mingling with a touch of bitterness had swelled inside her, forcing the tears, now a different emotion flooded through her.
Desire. It filled her, sweeping away all other thoughts, distilling every other sentiment, leaving no room for anything else in her head...in her heart. As she leaned into Dominic, pressing her body intimately against his, she realized he felt it, too. She realized it in his swift intake of breath, in the swell of his body against hers.
She tilted her head to look up at him. Only his eyes expressed his desire. Dark and heated, they gazed at her, and in them she saw not only desire but a flare of surprise, as well.
She had no idea whose head moved first, whose action initiated the kiss. She only knew that their lips touched—softly at first, then hungrily. She closed her eyes and gave in to the moment.
He plied her lips with heat, and she responded by opening her mouth to him, wanting to deepen the kiss. She could feel the beating of his heart against hers, mirroring the rapid, out-of-control rhythm of her own.
Someplace in the back of her mind, she knew this was wrong—dangerous not only to her peace of mind but to the facade she’d carefully presented to the world concerning her marriage to Bill.
For the first time in her life she didn’t care what was proper, what was right. At this moment, being in Dominic’s arms, tasting the heat of his kiss felt good, felt right.
She felt his withdrawal first when he dropped his arms from around her, then as he framed her face with his hands. Slowly, as if reluctantly, his kiss ended, and she opened her eyes to see him looking at her. His eyes sparked like the embers of a banked fire, but they also held a wealth of regret. “Melissa...” He dropped his hands from her face and took a step backward. “I...I don’t know what to say....”
The doorbell rang, preempting any reply Melissa might have made.
Dominic sighed in obvious relief and hurried to answer. As he left the room, Melissa sank into a chair at the table, wondering how long it would take for the heat to leave her body, the imprint of his lips to stop burning on her own.
She shouldn’t have kissed him. She’d known instinctively that kissing him would be pleasant. Now she realized it wasn’t enough. She wanted more from Dominic Marcola, and in that wanting was a certain shame—a little over two weeks a widow and already desiring another man.
She sat up straighter, shoving the shame aside. Wasn’t she allowed to seek happiness? Wasn’t she allowed to feel desire without the dreadful anticipation of humiliation or abuse? Bill hadn’t made love to her since the night they’d conceived Jamison, and even then she didn’t classify it as “making love.” For her, it had simply been a wifely duty, void of tenderness, empty of love.
She stood as Dominic reentered the kitchen, this time with Neal Cook trailing behind. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Newman,” Neal said in greeting.
“No problem. What can I do for you, Neal?” she asked. She studiously kept her gaze away from Dominic, afraid her husband’s co-worker would see some spark, some remnant of the desire that had flared so quickly between her and Dominic.
“Sam sent me over. We need some extra ductwork for a job we’re doing on a furnace, and Sam said Bill kept some spare parts here in your basement.”
Melissa nodded and motioned for him to follow her down the stairs that led to the unfinished basement of the house. “I’m not sure what all is down here,” she explained. “Bill was always bringing home furnace and air-conditioning parts to store here because there was so little storage space at the office.”
When she reached the concrete basement floor, she pointed to where ductwork, vent covers, an assortment of wiring and various other parts were spread across the floor in neat piles.
As Ne
al poked around, seeking the proper size and shape of vent he needed, Melissa looked around the basement with a touch of sadness. When they’d first moved into the house, she’d envisioned this area as a playroom for the children she would have. Bill had agreed, eagerly telling her his plans for refinishing the room, feeding her fantasies with his lies.
“Ah, here it is,” Neal said as he held up an elbow-shaped piece of vent. “Thanks,” he said to Melissa.
“I’ll walk you out, Neal,” Dominic said and together the two men disappeared up the stairs.
Melissa remained behind, her thoughts still on the dreams she’d once had; dreams she’d lost but which now flirted at the edge of her consciousness.
Bill was gone. He was never coming back. Her wish to be free of him had come true, albeit through tragedy. She would get through whatever charges might be leveled against her and live to fulfill those distant dreams.
A surge of optimism filled her. It was as if she’d been Sleeping Beauty, trapped in a curse of her own making, and Dominic’s kiss had awakened her to all the possibilities.
She could still turn this basement into a playroom. She would need to find another place to store all the parts, but that could be accomplished by renting storage space or erecting a small shed in the backyard.
As she contemplated this idea, she walked amid the bits and pieces of Bill’s business. In the meantime, the items could be stacked more compactly to take up less space.
She began to move pieces of vent pipe into one corner of the basement. She paused as she heard Dominic’s footsteps coming back down the stairs. He appeared at the bottom and for a moment they simply looked at each other. She knew by the expression on his face he was thinking of the kiss they’d shared before Neal had interrupted them. She could see that Dominic was not only thinking about it, but was regretting it.
“Melissa,” he began.
She picked up a piece of pipe, not looking at him. “I was just thinking that this would make a perfect playroom for Jamison when he gets a little older.” She carried the pipe to the corner with the others, then returned to pick up several more pieces.
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