by Liliana Hart
Mr. Panamaker was back on his front lawn, this time in striped pajamas. He sent her a sympathetic smile that probably had more to do with the courtside tickets to the Dallas Maverick’s she’d given him as an apology than with anything else. He was probably hoping she’d go off the deep end again so he could score hockey tickets.
But Jake was steady beside her, his arms around her in comfort and protection as she watched the violence of the flames. It wasn’t too long before she started to laugh, big, gasping guffaws that bent her body over to the knees.
Jake looked at the woman he loved with concern, pulling her close and trying to comfort as best as he knew how.
“It’s okay, Eve. We’ll figure out something. I’ll help you get caught up and sort through everything. Just think, more letters than ever will come in. You’ll see, it’ll be all right.”
“It’s perfect. Just perfect,” Eve said on a hiccup. “I don’t want to salvage anything. This must be fate. I was waiting for a sign.”
Jake looked at her like she was a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic and that made her laugh harder. “I’m not hysterical. I promise,” she added, when he looked like he wanted to argue. “But I think I’ve made up my mind about writing future articles for the newspaper. I’ll just tell my editor that everything exploded and to find a new columnist. It’s not like he can argue with me. Now I can focus on my book.”
Uh, huh,” Jake said with an indulgent tone, smoothing fly-a-way curls. “That’s a great idea, honey. We’ll need to talk to the police. Why don’t you go put some clothes on? I wouldn’t want them to see what a lucky guy I am with you walking around in your bathrobe.”
Jake barely had time to catch her before she launched herself in his arms.
“You are the sweetest man,” she said, giving him a smacking kiss before untangling herself to go get dressed. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, and he was pretty sure that sweet hadn’t ever been one of them, but he could get used to it if it made Eve’s smile light up like a kid on Christmas morning.
***
Detective Rosenberg looked like a character she’d read about in a book once, small of stature but abundant in tenacity. His clothes were disheveled and his grey hair was finger-combed and sticking up in different directions. He smelled of coffee and stale cigarettes, and her imagination gave him three ex-wives and a two pack a day habit. But underneath it all he was still a cop. He held a little notebook in his hand and his pen had leaked so it left a blue stain on the front pocket of his shirt. He looked as if he’d just gotten out of bed, which, Eve thought, looking at the clock, he probably had.
“Would you like some coffee?” Eve asked, already headed to the kitchen to complete the chore before he could answer. She need to keep busy so her mind wouldn’t keep wondering what could have happened if the trailer had exploded in the daytime instead of the middle of the night. Someone could have been killed.
There were teams of people tramping around her front yard, and she guessed she should be grateful Jake’s company hadn’t gotten to the landscaping stage yet because everything would be ruined. There was blistered wood on the front of the house and her front windows had been broken from the blast, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. They were lucky no one had been hurt. If it had happened a few hours later, she or Jake would have been inside, oblivious and more than likely, obliterated.
She brought the coffee back in with unsteady hands.
“Sit down, love,” Jake said, pulling her down beside him on the sofa, not realizing the endearment he’d let slip, but Detective Rosenberg noticed.
It was his job to assess the situation with a critical eye and his eyes told him something strange was going on. The explosion in that trailer wasn’t an accident, but it was obvious that the couple in front of him had money, so that likely motive was out. They were obviously lovers, easy touches here and there, looks that were more clear than entire sentences. He’d never had much luck with the institution himself, but he could recognize it when it was staring him in the face.
“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, Dr. Lovegood.”
“Yes, of course. I don’t know how much I can help you though.”
“Where were you at the time of the explosion?”
A pretty blush tinged her cheeks and he thought that strange for someone purported to be one of the leading experts on relationships in the country.
“I was sleeping. I woke as soon as I heard the blast, put on some clothes and went to see what had happened, just like everyone else in the neighborhood.”
“Did you see anyone you didn’t recognize?”
Eve thought back to her perusal of her neighbors and shook her head. She’d recognized them all, just from their habitual comings and goings everyday, even though she hadn’t been living there for long. “No, no one.”
“Can you think of anyone that might want to get your attention, Dr. Lovegood? Maybe one of your husband’s fans?”
Jake felt Eve stiffen as memories of her dead husband joined them in the room. He was always between them, but that was something he was determined to change.
“Doubtful,” Eve said. “His fans would have more luck getting the attention of his family or his friends if that’s what they wanted. I was never bothered much by them, even when he was alive.”
Detective Rosenberg made a humming noise in the back of his throat that could have been construed as sympathetic or curious while he flipped through his notebook.
“I have a note here that you received a call on your talk show the night of October twenty-fifth from an infatuated fan. Is this correct?”
“What?” Jake asked, looking at Eve. “When did this happen?” Why didn’t you tell me, he added silently.
Every inch of color drained from Eve’s face as she thought of the caller and then the occasional notes and phone calls she’d gotten at home over the past weeks. They’d never seemed threatening so she hadn’t reported them.
She looked at the anger and disappointment in Jake’s face and knew she’d made a mistake, but she couldn’t think about that now. She was at least able to give him eye contact when she answered him. Now wasn’t the time to cower.
“He was the caller directly before you the second time you called in to the show. You wouldn’t have heard the broadcast if you were on hold. And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal at the time, so I didn’t mention it.”
“Not a big deal?” he asked, his voice level, but the anger still there.
“Have there been any other incidents?” Detective Rosenberg asked. He wanted to head them off at the pass before a domestic argument could ensue. He had enough things to deal with at the moment.
Eve hesitated before she answered, afraid of what Jake would think. “Yes. A few.” She ignored Jake as he swore and got up from the couch to pace, keeping her gaze level with the detective’s.
“I received a note that was left on the windshield of my car and a letter that was left in the mail box. There have also been a couple of phone calls. I wrote down what he said as soon as he started talking. I’ll get everything for you. I kept them all.” She made a path around Jake to pull open a drawer in the Secretary she kept near the front door and retrieved a few small pieces of paper.
How could she be so cool? Jake thought. He was furious that someone would deliberately try to hurt her, and he’d do whatever it took to protect her. But it didn’t look like she wanted or needed his help. Eve Lovegood was a woman used to taking care of herself. How long would he have to hide his own hurt at her lack of trust?
“Before you ask why I didn’t come to you sooner,” Eve said, “I’ll tell you that this isn’t the first time a fan has become a little overzealous. I know the drill. There’s really nothing you could have done with a few non-threatening notes.”
“You’re right, Dr. Lovegood, but I wouldn’t exactly call this guy non-threatening now. Would you?”
“No. This was definitely unexpected. I’ll be careful. There a
re guards at the station and plenty of workers around here in the daytime.” She didn’t think about the nights. Would Jake still want to stay with her after all this? “I’ll let you know if I get anything else.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Detective Rosenberg said, as he rose and made his way to the door. Another night of sleep lost. No wonder he couldn’t stay married. He wondered if the doctor could give him a hand and then dismissed it. Who had the time? He might as well go into the station and start the paperwork. He’d leave love to the younger generation.
***
Eve closed the door behind the detective and turned to face Jake. She went to him before he could say anything. She could feel the war raging inside of him and only meant to soothe as best she could.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” She went to him before he could say anything and laid her fingers gently over his lips. “No, please, don’t say anything yet. I am sorry. I know I owe you explanations, about my marriage and what’s been happening between us, but I’m just asking for a little bit more time. My feelings for you frighten me. And now this…insanity on top of everything else. I’m scared, Jake. Please don’t go yet. I know you’re angry with me, but please don’t leave me tonight.”
“Eve, look at me,” he said, tilting her chin up with the tip of his finger. “I am never going to leave you. Love is not just for a little while, it’s forever. Yes, I’m angry, but I’ll give you a little time. I expect some explanations. I need to know you, all of you.”
“Please make love with me. I need you again. I don’t think I can stop shaking.”
No woman should have such power over a man, but he was helpless to do but what she asked. He needed her just as desperately. If someone would have told him five years ago, hell, one year ago, that he’d fall like a ton of bricks for a sorceress with a fragile nature he would have laughed himself silly and said that Jake Murphy would bend himself for no women. He’d have been dead wrong.
He kissed her deeply, his body responding instantly, remembering their earlier encounter with fondness.
Eve pulled his shirt from his jeans and ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest. Everything about Jake was a marvel to her, his body, his stubbornness and the innate goodness that made the core of the man.
They spoke through gestures, gentle touches and frantic kisses as he pulled her legs around his waist and entered her were they stood. He pumped into her with short, sharp thrusts and swallowed her cries of ecstasy. His knees threatened to buckle and he moved blindly to the wall and anchored her against it.
“More, more,” she moaned. “I need you.”
He moved his hand between them and plucked at the hidden nub between her folds. She spasmed around him and tightened like a vise as she found fulfillment. He gave a final thrust and followed her.
He propped his hand against the wall to keep them both upright until his senses came back. He carried her back to the bedroom, still intimately joined, and followed her down to the bed.
Questions would be answered later, but for now they were content. In the quiet aftermath of the storm, sleep finally found them.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Eve should have realized that the explosion from the previous night would draw her back into the limelight. It had been so long since she’d been there for reasons other than her show that she’d let up her guard.
She wrapped her frigid hands around the coffee mug in front of her and looked out the front window of her breakfast nook without really seeing. The crews were already at work and the trailer had been carted away by the police. Other than the black residue that lined the street and sidewalk, there was nothing to indicate any unusual activity—other than the newspaper that had been delivered first thing that morning.
She stared at the front page photo of herself and cringed.
Steve Slater’s Widow Shocked By Late Night Explosion.
“Bastards,” she whispered, reading about her past in print. There was more about her marriage than there was on the actual explosion. She knew, after working around media types for the last several years, that the story was what was important. And boy did they capture the story.
The widow of the late Steve Slater, sensation of the NASCAR circuit, was startled out of sleep by an explosion that destroyed a construction trailer sitting outside of her Dallas home, which is currently being renovated by Murphy-Madsen Construction.
Dr. Eve Lovegood, host of a popular radio show, was purportedly served with divorce papers mere hours before her husband’s death. There had been speculation for months about their separation when Slater began appearing in public with Gianna DeCosta, an Italian Supermodel and the daughter of billionaire tycoon Giorgio DeCosta. Miss DeCosta perished with Slater in a crash in Monte Carlo on Christmas Eve five years ago.
His widow reportedly received the inheritance from Slater’s vast estates, despite the objection of his family. Dr. Lovegood couldn’t be reached for comment.
Eve felt sick to her stomach. She hadn’t gotten away from the misery that Steve Slater had brought her after all.
Jake stood just inside the doorway to the kitchen and watched Eve for a few minutes. There was a lot on her mind, he knew. It seemed like her carefully constructed life was unraveling right before her eyes. He’d given her the night, but he was ready for the answers he needed. Maybe someday she’d understand that the load was lighter when two people shared the burden.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
Eve turned her head in surprise and splashed coffee on the top of her hand. Jake guessed it wasn’t hot since she didn’t seem to notice the accident. Her face was red in embarrassment and her eyes held a fascinating combination of wariness and heat.
He walked over to her slowly and took her face between both hands before kissing her softly. The tension left her shoulders, but the heat was still there. “I said good morning,” he said again.
“Good morning,” she said, leaning in just once more before she could talk herself out of it. “Did you sleep well?” she asked before realizing what that implied.
Jake threw back his head in laughter when her face grew even brighter at the slip. Her innocence was refreshing. “No, I didn’t sleep well at all. I hope you didn’t either.”
She finally relaxed and returned the smile. “No, I don’t suppose I did.”
“I talked Gran into visiting a friend for a few days to keep her from getting in the middle of the investigation. She watches a lot of CSI and thinks she has their secrets figured out. I knew we’d both be occupied with other things, and she has a tendency to get into trouble when left on her own.”
Eve smiled absentmindedly and continued looking out the window. She looked lost.
“Have you had breakfast?” Jake asked, making himself at home and rummaging through drawers and cabinets looking for something edible. It was all so normal, like they’d been going through the routine for years.
“No. Jake, I need to tell you about…things. If you’ll listen.”
“I’ll listen,” he said breaking eggs into the sizzling pan on the stove. “Tell me about your parents. Gran tells me she knows them quite well. Your father is Dwight Lovegood?”
“Yes,” she answered, smiling.
There was love there, he thought. It was hard of him to think of the tough as nails oil baron and Texas Senator that he read about in the papers as a doting father.
“I had an amazing childhood. I was very lucky. I had all the advantages I could ask for and two parents that loved me. The only thing I was ever dissatisfied about was that they never gave me a brother or sister to play with. My mother told me that as much as she loved me, not even she would go through childbirth again just so I could have a sibling.”
Jake felt the envy rising over something he’d never experienced. Despite everything, they had more in common than he once thought. He’d been neglected by his family, and she had been neglected by the man who’d promised to love and cherish her if everything he’d heard about Steve Slater was cor
rect. He put a plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of her and then took the seat across from her in the nook.
“I never eat breakfast,” she confessed looking at the pile of food.
“You should. It’s the most important meal of the day. Besides, you need to keep your energy up. You didn’t get much rest last night.”
Eve picked up her fork and dug in, unsure where to pick up her story. “Like I said, my childhood was great, but when I reached my teenage years I think my parents weren’t sure what they should do with me. I was a child with an adult’s mind who’d surpassed classmates and tutors both. I was sent to college, but I still lived at home. I remember hating that first semester because I still didn’t have my driver’s license and our driver had to take me everyday. It was just the beginning of a very lonely period in my life. I didn’t have friends my age and didn’t get the opportunity to go to parties or rock concerts. I had afternoon luncheons and committees interspersed with my studies while I finished my undergrad and then graduate work. Could I have some more coffee?” she asked, her throat dry and her palms damp.
He handed her a full cup and she waited until she thought her courage was as high as it could be before continuing. She gave him a grateful smile for being patient, for listening, just as she’d asked.
“I met Steve a couple of years after I’d started my doctoral program. It was the off season and he was in town visiting friends. We both happened to be at the same function one night, he in his tuxedo and me in an evening gown. It was like a fairytale. I was twenty-two years old and he was thirty.”
Jake’s gut clinched in anger. Thirty was old enough to know better than to seduce an innocent young woman.
“He walked right up to me, handed me a glass of champagne and told me how glad he was that I’d changed my mind and decided to show up, just like we’d known each other our whole lives. I was spellbound. We were the last couple on the dance floor. It was the beginning of a whirlwind courtship, and we were married a week later. I was a virgin on my wedding night,” Eve said, finally looking Jake in the eye. “I haven’t been with anyone else until last night.”
