by Jean Thomas
Clare was impressed by his efficiency as she watched him carefully handle and bag the knife. He then took a flashlight out of his utility belt.
“I’m going out back to see if I can learn how he broke in. Some of these burglars have MOs that help us to identify them.” He looked pointedly at Mark. “While I’m doing that, you might want to take care of that wound on your face.”
There had been no time for Clare to play nurse before Martinez’s arrival, but she was determined now to make sure Mark obeyed the officer’s advice. When he went through to the kitchen, she turned to Mark.
“Into the main bathroom, please,” she directed him brusquely.
She was prepared for an argument, but to her satisfaction she got none. He preceded her with an uncharacteristic meekness into the master bathroom where she kept her first-aid supplies.
“Where do you want me, teacher?”
She glanced at him suspiciously as she removed a clean wash cloth and a face towel from the cupboard.
“On the stool.”
He was seated and ready for her by the time she had wet and soaped the face cloth. Bending over him, Clare washed the caked blood away from his jaw, as well as along the side of his neck where the blood had trickled.
She was blotting the area dry with the towel when, meeting his gaze, she noticed what she could swear was a glint of amusement in those dark eyes. He’s enjoying this, she thought.
“How bad is it?” he wanted to know.
Now that she’d cleaned the blood away and exposed the wound, she could see it was shallow, nothing more really than the scrape he’d earlier insisted it was.
“It will probably need stitches,” she informed him dryly. “Maybe even surgery and a stay in the hospital.”
“Uh-huh.”
Dropping the wash cloth in the sink and slinging the towel over her shoulder, she rummaged through the medicine cabinet for the tube she wanted. Finding it, she bent over him again.
“Turn your head. No, the other way.” Uncapping the tube, she squeezed a liberal amount of ointment on her finger and began to apply it to the scrape, observing as she worked, “You can’t say our Officer Martinez isn’t thorough.”
“Yeah, for what must be a routine break-in, he is that. Ouch, that stings.”
“Don’t be such a baby. It’s just an antibiotic ointment. You don’t want to risk infection, do you?”
Slight though the injury was, she supposed it was tender to the touch. And, admittedly, her treatment of it hadn’t exactly been a soothing one.
“You’re done.”
“Hey, don’t I need a bandage?”
“You don’t need a bandage. You’ll heal nicely without one.”
He’s trying to prolong this, she thought. And there was that light again in his eyes, something far rawer than the scrape on his jaw. She knew without asking, just knew, that he was thinking about their lovemaking.
She lowered her gaze from his, but that was a mistake. She found her attention riveted now on the sight of his naked chest. Could actually feel the heat rising from him, wrapping around her like an embrace, triggering her own memory of last night’s incredible sex.
There was no question of it. She was far too susceptible to this compelling man.
Relief came in the form of Officer Martinez calling to them from the vicinity of the kitchen. “Folks, if you’ve got a minute there’s something I’d like to show you out back.”
They joined him in the now lighted kitchen.
“This way,” he said, leading them through an open French door onto the patio. “Careful, there’s glass down here. You don’t want to step on it in those bare feet of yours.”
Flashlight in hand, the policeman aimed its strong beam down on the bricks. A rectangle of glass lay flat on the pavement off to one side of the door.
“This is how your burglar got into the house. He used a glass cutter to slice out one of the door panes. You can still see the suction cups he attached to the outside of the pane. They allowed him to remove the pane from its frame without breaking the glass and making a racket. All he had to do then was reach inside and unlock the door. It’s a familiar method for thieves to gain entry, which makes him no amateur.”
Clare shivered. She wasn’t sure whether to blame the chill of the early morning air or the realization that her snug home was vulnerable. That whoever wanted to get inside could find a way to do it.
“And I went and overlooked all this,” Mark said regretfully.
“Understandable,” Officer Martinez said. “You were chasing him, and it was dark.”
They went back into the kitchen where the policeman advised Clare, “You’ll want to call a glazier to replace that missing pane. And you might think about installing a burglar alarm.”
“I will,” Clare assured him. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes. Do a careful look through the house to see if you’ve got any missing valuables. I doubt he had time to lift anything and pocket it before Lieutenant Griggs jumped him, but it’s always possible. If you should find you’re missing any items, let us know. We keep an eye on the pawn shops. Stolen goods sometimes turn up there.”
Clare didn’t need to concern herself with recovering any missing valuables. She knew there was only one thing their intruder had wanted, but she couldn’t tell Officer Martinez that.
“I’ll file a report, of course,” he said, “but don’t be surprised if we don’t catch him. I’m afraid crime of this kind is no rarity in New Orleans.”
They walked the officer to the front door where he told Clare he would ask their police patrols to keep an eye on her place. They thanked him for his concern. When he’d departed, Clare locked the door behind him and turned to Mark. He had his hands in his pockets and a sober look on his face.
“What?” she asked him.
“Nothing.”
“Yes, there is. You’re thinking his visit didn’t accomplish anything. Well, I think it did. If our mystery man was out there nearby watching the house and saw the arrival of the police cruiser, there’s a chance it will discourage him from coming back here and trying it again.”
“If you say so.”
Fair of her or not, his reaction irritated her, and for a good reason. She knew without either of them saying it that she was wrong and Mark was right. Their enemy would do anything to get Mark’s amulet. Hadn’t he already killed twice to get his hands on the other two amulets?
“For heaven’s sake, will you please put on a shirt?”
“It bothers you?”
Regretting she had barked at him, Clare softened her response. “No, why should it?” She added a hasty “I just thought you might be cold, is all.”
“It’s still dark out there. Must be plenty of time before sunup. Maybe we should go back to bed,” he said, changing the subject.
“After all that’s happened? I don’t think so. I would never be able to go back to sleep.”
From the way he was gazing at her, Clare had the feeling his interest in bed had nothing to do with sleep.
“It’s too early for breakfast,” she said, “but I could use some coffee.”
If he was disappointed in her alternative, he didn’t voice it. “Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea. It will give us an opportunity.”
“For what?”
“The serious talking we need to do.”
Chapter 11
Mark found a scrap of plywood in one of Clare’s closets just large enough to fit over the opening in the French door where the pane was missing.
It would have to do until Clare could get a glazier in here, he thought, tacking the piece to the frame. Mark would also recommend that she add some sturdy bolts to all the doors and windows, ones that couldn’t be easily reached from the outside no matter what panes
of glass were removed.
By the time he was finished covering the opening, Clare had the coffee made and ready to pour into the mugs she’d set out on the breakfast bar in the kitchen. The eastern sky was brightening when they perched on stools across from each other.
“Thank you for fixing the door,” she told him.
She didn’t thank him for the polo shirt he’d pulled over his head, but he could see her eyeing it with a certain relief.
Lecher that he admittedly was where this woman was concerned, it pleased him the sight of his naked chest apparently disturbed her on a level that—
Stop it right there, soldier. You’ve got other business to attend to here.
He hadn’t forgotten that, but he waited until he’d swallowed his first satisfying mouthful of the steaming coffee to engage in the serious talk he’d promised her.
Lowering his mug, Mark leaned toward her with an earnest “The plywood might keep the squirrels out, but it isn’t going to prevent that bastard from getting in here again.”
“You think he’ll come back.”
“He wants my amulet, Clare, and from what we know about him, he’ll go to any lengths to get it.”
“But he wouldn’t try to enter the house in broad daylight.”
“Not likely, but even with the patrols Martinez promised us we can’t spend another night here. It’s too dangerous.”
She nodded solemnly. “You’re right. I knew it even before I called the police. I just didn’t want to admit out loud that I would have to leave my home, find somewhere else to stay until this whole mess is cleared up.”
“We have all day to decide where we’ll go.”
She was quiet for a moment. He watched her over the rim of his mug, wondering what she was thinking. She started to lift her own mug and then stopped, shuddering visibly.
“What is it?” he asked her.
“I just had an image of that brute stabbing you with his knife.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No, you prevented that. But he came close to killing you, and if he’d had a gun instead of a knife— Mark, why didn’t he have a gun?”
“Probably got rid of it after killing Boerner to avoid the possibility of it being traced back to him.”
Clare nodded, silent again. This time she was relaxed enough to drink her coffee. He could tell, though, that quick brain of hers was busy again between sips.
“You know we could go back to my apartment tonight. Even if he did learn that’s still my current address, being on an upper floor makes it secure. Plus it has a stout lock and—”
She went blank again in midsentence.
“Now what?” he asked her.
“I just realized how he must have found us here. You said yesterday that, this being the electronic age, our stalker could have learned my apartment address. He must have eventually done just that, and no matter how late the hour went there and roused the super in my building. He’s the kind of jerk who wouldn’t be opposed to accepting a healthy bribe, and he knew where I was moving.”
“And after accepting a bribe,” Mark surmised, “the super tells our bad guy just where to locate us. Yeah, it makes sense.”
They were silent after that, each with their own thoughts as they drank their coffee. Mark didn’t feel that spending the night in Clare’s apartment was a good idea, no matter how safe she promised it was. But there was plenty of time to discuss that.
Aware of the light strengthening outside, he glanced through the window over the kitchen sink. The sky above the neighbor’s roof was tinted the color of a maiden’s blush. Not that he’d ever been poetic, but it did seem to be a fitting description for a sky that was heralding another sunrise.
Clare checked her watch. “It’s much too early to try calling a glazier. I’ll wait until after we have breakfast to do that. Meanwhile, if you don’t mind holding the fort, I’m going to take a shower.”
Mark watched her slide off her stool and head in the direction of the main bathroom, his gaze pinned on her shapely bottom. He didn’t want to be left holding the fort. He wanted to be in that shower stall with her.
He couldn’t stop them. The lusty images that swarmed through his mind. He could picture that sweet body of hers under the hot spray, could see the water sluicing over her full breasts, pouring down her belly to the curly nest below before cascading down her long legs.
He remembered last night’s incredible sex in her bed, how she had felt under him, all soft and compliant. How she had responded to his lovemaking with low moans and a restless body longing for everything that he could provide.
Mark wasn’t fully conscious of his actions. They seemed to be automatic, taking him from the stool to the French doors that opened onto the patio. Making certain they were locked, unable to resist his intention or to question the wisdom of it, he left the kitchen and sauntered through the bedrooms, pausing only long enough to find a condom in his luggage before moving on into the main bathroom.
He was helpless by the time he closed and locked the door behind him, driven by a primitive force he could no longer control. Or wanted to control. He had to answer the fire in his loins.
She didn’t challenge his presence in the bathroom. Maybe because the noise of the water pelting down on her made her unaware of his arrival. Or maybe because she didn’t mind his unannounced arrival. He hoped it was the latter.
Either way, it didn’t stop him from removing his clothes and strewing them carelessly onto the floor. He was already hard and aching when, fully naked, the condom in his hand, he opened the frosted glass door, stepped into the stall and shut the door behind him.
He found her rinsing shampoo from her hair. If she was startled by his sudden appearance, she didn’t react to it, other than to go very still. Had she ordered him out of the stall, he would have complied. Thankfully, she said nothing. She simply stared at him.
“I decided I needed a shower, too. Hope you don’t mind my sharing the hot water before it runs out,” he said gruffly.
“It never does. Or hasn’t so far. I have an extra-large hot water heater.”
“Let’s test it to see if it holds.”
“Yes, let’s,” she said with a little smile he chose to read as an invitation he gladly welcomed.
It was all Mark needed to place what he carried on the same ledge that held the shampoo bottle and the soap dish. Her eyes widened at the sight of the foil-wrapped condom, but she made no objection.
She must have expected him to scrub himself when his hand closed around the bar of soap. When, instead, he pressed toward her and began to lather her own, already slick body with long, slow strokes, she gasped.
She was receptive, though, to his sensual attentions. Entirely receptive. He could tell that when she squirmed in delight as his soap-enriched hands encircled her and began to massage her back, moving onward to caress her silken smooth buttock cheeks.
“Hold still,” he commanded her.
“I’m trying, but you don’t make it easy.”
Nor did he want to make it easy on her when his hands slid around to her breasts where he spent some time before, satisfied, he worked his way down over her hips.
“Good?” he asked her.
“Very good,” she murmured.
“More?”
“Yes, please.”
Slipping a hand between her legs, he began to rub the super sensitive area of her groin until, bucking with release, she fell against him weakly.
He held her for a quiet moment while the steam rose around them in little wisps. He didn’t try to kiss her. Didn’t make any effort to fasten his mouth on the tips of her breasts. There could be no lengthy preliminaries, as there had been last night. His need to be joined with her was too urgent for that.
When he separated himself from her, it
was only long enough for him to scoop up the condom where it waited on the ledge, tear it open and roll it down over his swollen length.
“I hope you’re ready for me,” he pleaded. “And even if you’re not, please say you are because...oh, hell, I can’t wait.”
“I can see you’re suffering,” she said, her gaze lowering to his rigid shaft that was throbbing almost painfully now with wanting her. “So don’t wait.”
He didn’t. Hands grasping her hips, he lifted her onto himself, driving his full length into her with one powerful thrust. Her legs locked around him, clasping him tightly as he supported her there against the tiled wall.
The water from the shower head rained on them, streaming over their bodies in concert to their own performance that followed.
Mark loved the way she mewed with pleasure when he rocked her. Loved the way she responded to his strong strokes with a series of little whimpers as the wisps of steam coalesced into a cloud.
There was no prolonging the culmination. Although he managed to hold back long enough to make her come once, then still again, his own climax swiftly followed, his body shuddering with gratification.
They clung to each other for a moment. Even when he let her slide down his length until her feet touched the floor, he continued to hold her.
“We did get a long time on the hot water,” she said, “but I think it’s beginning to cool off.”
One of his hands released her only long enough to turn off the shower. By now it had washed away the lather that had managed to transfer itself from her body to his. It had rinsed her off, as well. There was no telling where the bar of soap had gone. He couldn’t see it in all this steam.
His hand went back to join the other one at her waist. But only for a second. He wasn’t finished. His hands shifted to frame her head on either side. There were drops of water leaking down her cheeks. Leaning into her, he began to lick them away.
She managed a sigh of contentment just before his mouth settled on her own in a kiss that lasted only long enough for both of them to realize they were growing cold.
Clare opened the door, preceding him out of the stall. After handing him a bath towel, she provided one for herself. By the time Mark rid himself of the condom, disposed of it and rubbed himself dry, she had her own towel wrapped around her body.
