Dangerous Kisses

by Trish Milburn

  "Thanks." She set the almost empty cup on the table and pulled the blanket more closely around herself.

  Jake slipped the uncomfortable shoes off his feet, then sat in the chair opposite Sydney’s.

  "Has anything else strange happened to you in the past few days, Sydney, other than the two pieces of chocolate?"

  "No."

  "Are you sure? Something you might not even think about might be important."

  "I’m sure. Nothing."

  "Did you mention the chocolate to anyone? A co-worker? A boyfriend?"

  "Are you fishing, Detective?" she asked, a bit of her spark resurfacing.

  "Just doing my job."

  "Ah, yes, your job."

  What was that supposed to mean? He chalked it up to her being tired and somewhat scattered at the moment.

  Sydney sighed long and deep, as if fatigue had taken over every cell in her body. "No, I didn’t say anything, not even to my editor. I thought you were probably right about not releasing that information."

  Jake rubbed his burning eyes with his thumb and forefinger, not wanting to face facts. But they insisted on being heard. With no other direction to turn, he accepted that Sydney was likely a marked woman. She fit the same physical description as Maggie and Stephanie, but what else connected them? There had to be another tie, and he had to keep Sydney safe until he figured out what it was.

  "Then you’re going to have to get used to having me around," he said, "because I think you’re next on our killer’s hit list."

  ****

  Most days she would have argued, but at the moment she liked the thought of Jake watching out for her. Maybe her mother would still be alive if someone had seen her safely to her car that night.

  "I want you to find somewhere other than your apartment to stay for awhile, at least for a few days until we can thoroughly search it."

  "You think he broke into my apartment?" she asked, horrified at the thought of a cold-blooded killer walking through her home, touching her belongings. Another chill shook her shoulders.

  "Maybe not, but we won’t know until we take a look around."

  She stared down at the tabletop for a few seconds. "I guess I could get a room at a hotel, though that’s not exactly in my budget."

  "What about friends? Family?"

  "No." She said it quickly, her nerves getting the better of her. No, there was no family. And she wouldn’t put Becky in danger too by possibly drawing the killer to her door.

  Jake scooted closer and squeezed her hand. "Okay. We’ll figure it out. Take it one step at a time." He looked so handsome, so caring.

  She offered the best teasing smile she could muster under the circumstances. "Why, Detective, you almost sound like you care."

  "I’m paid to make sure people like you are safe."

  She couldn’t hold the feeble smile in place. Every time she actually thought he might care even a little, he made some comment that assured her he didn’t. But what about the way he’d held her as he’d ushered her from her mailbox to the car? Something about his touch nagged at her. Granted, she didn’t have vast knowledge in such matters, but surely the way his strong arm had cradled her, shielded her, held some deeper meaning than duty.

  She yawned as she glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly 2 a.m. "Could you take me to a hotel? I’ve got to get some sleep."

  "You can stay here tonight."

  His offer startled her, and her face must have reflected her surprise.

  "My mind’s on the case, so I won’t be able to sleep anyway," he said. "You might as well use the bed."

  She glanced toward the rumpled covers tossed across the bed in the corner. A shiver of a very different kind skittered up her spine.

  "I really think I should go to a hotel."

  He seemed to sense she needed some banter to cut the tension. "Well, the only way you’re getting there is if you walk in that outfit." He motioned toward her evening gown and high heels. "Besides, I’d be right outside your door there, too." He stood. "I’m going to go up on deck for awhile. You can find something more comfortable in the closet."

  After he disappeared up the narrow stairs, Sydney opened the closet to find several dress shirts and slacks hanging in the small space. She stooped to examine the two drawers and finally chose a plain gray T-shirt. She checked up the stairs again, but when she didn’t see nor hear any sign of Jake, she slipped out of the dress and into the T-shirt, trying not to think that the last body it had covered was Jake’s.

  The shirt came down to her knees, but it was immeasurably more comfortable than her dinner attire. She felt even better when she freed her hair from its assorted pins. Giving in to exhaustion, she slipped beneath the covers. Jake’s scent teased her as she inhaled. If Becky could see her now, she’d never hear the end of it.

  Gradually, thoughts of work, being stalked and even Jake’s proximity faded away as sleep overtook her.

  ****

  Jake drank another cup of coffee as he watched the stars twinkle across the sky. His body begged for rest, but he couldn’t stop imagining killers in the shadows beyond the boat. A few times he dozed off only to wake more worried than before. There was no reason to expect the killer lurked in the night nearby, but his nerves stretched taut all the same.

  He shivered as the air grew cooler. He glanced toward the stairs leading down into the cabin. He could go below but he’d find no rest and comfort there either. How many times had he already imagined Sydney snuggled deep in his covers and ached to join her there? He shook his head and forced his gaze back to the inky darkness beyond the marina lights.

  Around 4 a.m., he drifted into another nap. Images of Stephanie Mortimer and Maggie Field materialized in his mind, each of them pointing an accusing finger at him as if to say it was his fault they were dead. Another figure took shape in the distance, and he squinted to discern the person’s identity. The person, a woman, walked toward him with agonizing slowness. But when she moved close enough for him to recognize her, he wished she’d stayed away. Sydney stared back at him with lifeless eyes.

  "Why, Jake? Why did you let him kill me?"

  Jake woke with a violent jerk. He knocked over the half empty coffee cup as he rushed down the steps into the cabin. He sighed in relief to find Sydney curled up in his bed, sleeping as if a murderer hadn’t left his calling card in her mailbox.

  Even assured of her safety, he couldn’t pull himself away from the foot of the bed. In the dim light, her hair shone like Rapunzel’s, making her appear almost angelic. He leaned against the doorway and watched her sleep, the gentle rise and fall of her breath beneath the covers. And something moved very near his heart.

  His mother’s words came back to him. "I want you to know love."

  What was love anyway? He loved his mother, had loved his father the way hero-worshipping sons do, but what about falling in love? He hadn’t a clue what that was like. How was a guy supposed to know when he was in danger of falling in love so he’d have enough time to dodge it?

  Jake’s muscles tensed as Sydney moaned in her sleep and flipped to her opposite side, dislodging some of the covers in the process. His heart rate accelerated at the view before him, Sydney in one of his T-shirts. The excess fabric had twisted around her, outlining her full breasts. His mouth went dry, and his body ached to slide beneath those covers with her, to keep her safe while satisfying other needs.

  He closed his eyes and tried to wipe the image from his mind to no avail. Watching her eyes to make sure she didn’t wake up with a man standing above her, Jake stepped forward to pull the covers back over her torso. She didn’t need the chill soaking into her, and he couldn’t handle one more second of the temptation she presented.

  Jake returned to the deck more frustrated than ever. What an irony that a beautiful woman lay tangled in his sheets and he couldn’t touch her.

  The quiet of the night, which usually soothed him after a difficult day, seemed ominous as the minutes wore on. Fog continued to drift across th
e lake’s black glass surface. There was only one way he was going to get any sleep.

  He weighed anchor and cast off for the center of the lake.

  ****

  Sydney stretched, then snuggled deeper into the covers. No matter how much she tried to open her eyes, the comfort of her bed dragged her back toward sleep. When she finally did manage to keep them open long enough to say she was awake, she sat up so suddenly she gave herself a head rush.

  Where in heaven’s name was she?

  As she blinked and rubbed her eyes, the previous night gradually came back to her. The dinner, the chocolate in her mailbox, Jake. She scanned her surroundings, the sparse interior of Jake’s boat. For a moment, her heart leapt into her throat. Where was he?

  As she came more fully awake, common sense returned. He was probably up on deck. Had he spent the entire night up there? Judging by the chill permeating the cabin, he would have spent several mighty uncomfortable hours exposed to the night air.

  Sydney slipped from the bed and immediately shivered in the chill. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and climbed the stairs. Her mouth nearly fell open when she reached the deck. The boat sat in the middle of the lake with dense fog crowding its sides. She shook her head as if to clear cobwebs. Had she fallen into Oz while she slept?

  She searched the deck and found Jake asleep, leaning against a box that stowed life jackets and other assorted boating paraphernalia. His face, while it still held its hard edges, had lost its tenseness in sleep. She couldn’t help but smile. The big, tough detective slept like the rest of the world.

  Sydney removed the blanket from her shoulders, then leaned down to place it across Jake’s body. Silly man, he could have slept inside on his couch. Although with him so close, she doubted she would have slept a wink.

  When the fabric had barely touched him, Jake sprang wide awake, immediately in defensive stance with his legs poised to spring forward. His sudden movement startled her so much she fell backwards before she could prevent it. She righted herself only to find a gun pointed at her chest. The sight of that menacing dark barrel pulled a frantic gasp from her as she scooted away.

  "Wait, Sydney." Jake lowered the weapon and overtook her. "Wait. I’m sorry."

  Before she could reach the stairs, Jake pulled her into his arms. "Shh. I won’t hurt you."

  She sank against him and squeezed her eyes shut to prevent tears from falling.

  "You startled me," he said as if that explained all. "I’m a cop, remember? One who’s trying to keep you safe from a killer."

  That she didn’t need to be reminded of. Against the better judgement she would have exhibited had she been anywhere but in Jake’s arms, she accepted the comfort and warmth he offered, if only for a few minutes. She treasured her control, but every once in awhile when she was at her most vulnerable she wanted someone to take care of her — like her mother used to when she was little, like her father had in those horrible, lonely days after her mother’s death.

  Jake wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "Don’t ever sneak up on a cop."

  "I’m sorry. I thought you looked cold, so I was trying to put the blanket on you."

  He leaned back from her enough that he could look down into her eyes. "Now who’s in danger of sounding like she cares?"

  "Self preservation, I assure you. If you freeze to death like an idiot out here, I have no idea how to drive this boat. Speaking of which, how did we get in the middle of the lake?"

  "This was the only place I was going to get any sleep."

  "You think he would have come after me with you here?"

  "I wasn’t taking the chance."

  When they stopped talking, their position grew more awkward. Truth was, Sydney loved the feel of Jake’s muscular chest next to her, but the contact also worried her. What if her body tattled the attraction she had to hide? Could he detect the warmth flooding her, feel her heart hammering against her chest? She couldn’t handle Jake’s indifference, not after everything that had occurred in the past twenty-four hours. But when she moved to rise, her leg brushed next to his, revealing that perhaps Jake wasn’t so indifferent to her after all.

  Her gaze met his, and there in those dark depths she could have sworn she saw interest, maybe even desire. She tried not to let her heart run away with itself. Time stretched as if the boat sat alone in a universe where time didn’t exist. Jake continued to stare at her, even dipping his gaze to her lips. She licked against the dryness there. He was going to kiss her, and she was going to enjoy it.

  She nearly fell backwards again when Jake looked away into the fog and extricated himself from the blanket. He stepped to the edge of the boat.

  "I’ll take us back in so we can check your apartment."

  Sydney blinked against sudden, hot tears. She’d almost made a fool of herself. His reaction had been purely physical, nothing more. She stood with as much dignity as she could and retreated down the steps without so much as a word to Jake. Never again would she allow herself to be tempted by dreams of another life only to have that fantasy dashed. His lack of interest was for the best, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

  ****

  He pressed the binoculars more firmly against his eyes in an effort to see her better. There she stood in the morning mist thinking she was safe, that she’d escaped him. Little did she know that he’d watched her for some time now, even before he’d taught the other two their lessons. But she hadn’t been first. No, he’d known she’d write about him, and that gave him immeasurable pleasure.

  Now everyone quaked when they thought of him, feared he was around every blind corner, inside every dark closet. Many of them never knew they spoke to him nearly every day, even looked forward to seeing him in some instances.

  But Sydney’s search for his identity grew too dangerous. She had lessons to learn as well. He had to teach her just like the others that he wasn’t a man to be overlooked.

  His jaw tightened as the anger threatened to overwhelm him. Not now. He must control it until the time was right.

  She looked toward the shore with a wistful, yearning expression on her face. Was she thinking of that damned cop who dared to think he would catch him? His hands squeezed the binoculars as if they were Radley’s throat. Why did the beautiful ones always go for guys like him, the ones who couldn’t give them what they deserved?

  Sydney retreated out of his line of sight. Soon. Soon he would scold her for her errant ways. And if he planned perfectly, perhaps he’d make Radley watch before he taught him his own lesson.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jake leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, scanning Sydney’s living room for anything he and the evidence team might have missed, any scrap that might point toward the killer.

  He glanced out at the balcony where Sydney was watering her plants. She hadn’t said so during her walk-through of the apartment, but he could tell that even the possibility that the killer had invaded her home bothered her a great deal.

  While the evidence guys examined the bathroom, he wandered into Sydney’s bedroom, feeling a little like he was intruding in her private sanctuary. So this was where she slept with her long, shiny, white-blond hair in disarray.

  He shook his head to direct his thoughts back toward the task at hand. He stepped into her small walk-in closet but didn’t note anything out of the ordinary. Nothing on top of her dresser rang warning bells — no ominous silver-wrapped chocolate, no scrawled notes, no visible fingerprints, nothing that would indicate anyone other than Sydney had been in this room before his arrival.

  Jake looked around the room one more time. The red blinking light on Sydney’s phone caught his eye. Probably only a message from a friend or co-worker, but he was leaving nothing unchecked.

  He walked to the open doorway to the balcony. "Sydney."

  She turned from where she’d been staring across the parking lot, a look on her face like she was trying to figure out a puzzle.

  "You have a message on yo
ur phone. We need to listen to it."

  She snapped back to what he considered the normal Sydney. "Okay." She passed him and went straight to the bedroom, didn’t even hesitate before pushing the message button.

  "Did you enjoy your candy, Sydney?" said a muffled voice. Jake’s spine stiffened, and he strained to hear everything the recording had picked up. "You sure did look pretty in that red dress last night. Too bad you were with that cop. But don’t worry. He’ll learn his lesson. Then you and I can be together."

  "Save the message," Jake said.

  Sydney did so, though she appeared to be operating on autopilot. He reached past her and replayed the message, trying to distinguish identifying noises in the background. The killer sounded as though he was speaking through a balled-up bath towel.

  So his spine tingling the night before hadn’t been without cause. The bastard had been out there in the dark somewhere. Maybe not when they’d been on the boat, but sometime during the evening he’d watched Sydney. The thought of some faceless murderer watching her when she looked so beautiful sent thousands of shivers scurrying over his skin.

  The message had leeched the last of Sydney’s color out of her skin. Jake reached over and guided her to the side of the bed. She needed to sit before her legs collapsed.

  "Did you recognize the voice?"

  "No."

  "We’ll make a copy of the message and do some analysis. See if we can pick up any clues, try to track the number."

  "He probably called from a public phone. He seems like the smart, organized type of killer."

  Even as she was being targeted, the journalist in her had evidently prompted her to do research. Maybe because she was a target. Her assertion had been that she wanted potential victims to know everything they could so they could protect themselves. He saw the merit of that argument more clearly now.

  She seemed okay considering, but some instinct deep in his gut told him she needed reassurance that she would be safe. He sat beside her and took her hand. "We’ll get this guy. I swear it."

  "I know." She said the words, but he couldn’t tell if she believed them.