Close Enough to Kill

by Beverly Barton

  “Want to dance before we order dessert?” Jim asked.

  “I’d love to dance with you.” Any excuse to be in his arms.

  He stood, came around and pulled out her chair, then took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. The restaurant didn’t have a band, just a lone piano player whose repertoire seemed to include every old romantic standard ever written. As Jim eased Bernie into his arms, the pianist began playing a sentimental rendition of “Someone to Watch over Me.”

  “You know what?” Bernie said.

  “What?”

  “You’re a good dancer.”

  Jim chuckled.

  “A good dancer, a good listener, a good friend, a good father…”

  Jim tightened his hold around her, pressing her intimately against him as he whispered in her ear. “You’re showering me with all these compliments just because later tonight you want to get in my pants.”

  Bernie giggled. “I can’t fool you, can I? You saw right through me, straight to my ulterior motive.”

  “I think you’re pretty special, too, you know.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Uh-huh. And just in case there’s any doubt in your mind about my ulterior motive—”

  He paused on the dance floor, long enough to pull her closer, close enough so that she felt his erection.

  Every nerve in her body tingled. A clutching grip tightened and then released inside her.

  “I believe we have the same ulterior motive,” she told him.

  “Would I be rushing things if I suggested we skip dessert and head over to my place?”

  “I’m really not hungry for dessert.”

  Jim released her, reached down and took her hand, then led her off the dance floor and back to their table. He called the waiter, asked for their check, and paid him immediately, telling the young man not to bother with any change. Hand in hand, Jim and Bernie hurried out of the restaurant. Once inside her Jeep, he leaned across the console, circled her neck with his big hand and pulled her toward him so that he could kiss her.

  When he lifted his head, he pulled back and looked at her. “I’m not real good with words, you know. I may not say all the right things. Things you’d like to hear. But…I…er…it won’t be just sex for me, for us. I care about you.”

  “I care about you, too,” she said. “And it’s all right that you’re not good with words. You know what they say—actions speak louder than words. I’m a woman who likes action.”

  “That I can give you, honey. In spades.”

  Dear God, if this is a dream, don’t let me ever wake up.

  Robyn came for the second time. Screaming, shuddering, unraveling completely. As the aftershocks trickled through her, she spread out over Raymond and laid her head on his shoulder. He caressed her naked hip as he kissed her forehead.

  “Mm…mm.” She loved making love with Raymond. Not once had they had sex that she hadn’t come, usually more than once.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Ravenous.”

  “Want me to go out and pick us up something?”

  Sighing contentedly, she rubbed her naked body over his, then rolled off him and stretched. “Why don’t we just fix sandwiches? I’d rather stay right here and go straight back to bed after we eat.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  “You think so, huh?”

  “Oh, yes. I can see the headlines now: RAYMOND LONG DIES IN THE THROES OF PASSION.”

  Giggling, Robyn cuddled against him, then kissed his shoulder. “You know what—I really am halfway in love with you.”

  He came up over her, lowered his head and said, “And I’m completely, totally, madly in love with you.” Then he gave her a long, slow, wet kiss.

  The phone rang.

  “Who the hell?” She rolled over, then reached out and lifted the crystal receiver from the brass and crystal base on her nightstand. “This had better be important because you’re interrupting something wonderful.”

  “Did you get my note?” the male voice asked.

  Robyn gripped the telephone tightly as she sat up in bed. “Who is this?”

  “I’m your secret admirer.”

  “What did you say?”

  Raymond sat up and put his arm around Robyn. “Who is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m your secret admirer, my darling,” the muffled voice repeated. “And when the time is right, I will reveal my identity to you. But for now, sleep well, my beautiful Robyn. And dream of your mystery lover who longs to touch you, longs to whisper love sonnets in your ear, longs to fulfill your every fantasy.”

  Robyn slammed the phone down on the base, terror racing through her at breakneck speed. “My God. Oh, my God!”

  Raymond turned her in his arms, then grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Who was that?”

  “My—my secret admirer.”

  “Your what?”

  “He said he was my secret admirer, that he’d sent the note we found on the floor, and that when the time is right, he’ll reveal his identity to me.”

  Raymond wrapped her in his trembling arms. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart. It’ll be all right. But we need to call Bernie and tell her what’s happened.”

  Robyn shook her head. “No, I can’t. Not tonight. Bernie and Jim are on their very first real date. I can’t ruin that for her. I won’t.”

  “But, Robyn, if the man who called you is—” Raymond paused, swallowed and then cleared his throat.

  “If he’s the same man who killed Abby and Thomasina and Stephanie, that means he’s chosen me as his next victim.”

  Raymond held her so tightly that she could barely breathe, but she wanted him to hold her tighter, much tighter, and never let her go.

  Chapter 26

  Half a second after Jim closed his front door behind them and locked it, he grabbed Bernie and kissed her. His hands went into immediate action, caressing her shoulder blades, her waist, her hips, then sliding over and down to cup her buttocks and lift her so that her mound pressed against his sex. He was hurting something awful. If he’d ever wanted a woman this much, he couldn’t remember it. But then his mind wasn’t what ruled his actions right now.

  As she kissed him back, every bit as hot and hungry as he was, he wadded the back of her dress in his hands. Then he started inching the dress higher and higher until he managed to slide both of his hands underneath the hem. When he stroked the soft, satiny material that covered her butt, she whimpered into his mouth.

  While she unbuttoned his shirt, he slipped one hand inside the back of her panties and thought he’d lose it on the spot when he felt her bare skin.

  This wasn’t the way he’d planned it. He’d wanted their first time to be special, something Bernie would remember with pleasure. Damn, why hadn’t he waited a few minutes before pawing her? He’d intended to seduce her slowly, and then lead her into his bedroom. Shit! His bedroom. That’s where they should be—the room he’d prepared for their lovemaking.

  Bernie jerked his shirttail from his pants and shoved the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. Taking over from her, he grasped the cuffs, pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. The minute his chest was bare, she lowered her head and licked a circle around each of his tight nipples. Then she apparently noticed the scars on his side. With quivering fingertips, she traced the lines of his old battle scars from gunshot wounds he’d received as a Memphis police officer.

  Groaning deep in his throat, he reluctantly removed his hands from her panties and searched for the zipper on her dress. As soon as he found the tab, he yanked it down, then peeled the dress to her waist, over her hips, and let it fall to her feet. She kicked the yellow silk aside and stood there in her satin panties and bra, shivering ever so slightly.

  “Damn, Bernie…damn!”

  He’d been more than ready before he got a good look at her, but one glimpse of her nearly naked body sent him beyond ready to got-to-h
ave-it-now.

  She reached out and tried to undo his belt buckle. When she fumbled in her attempt, he took over and hurriedly undid the buckle, opened his belt and unzipped his slacks. In no time flat, he divested himself of every stitch of clothes except his white cotton briefs.

  With her gaze moving over him appreciatively, Bernie licked her lips. He grasped the back of her head and drew her into another long, hard kiss. She rubbed him through his cotton briefs, her movements agonizingly slow and steady. He was on the verge of coming. Right here. Right now.

  Moaning into her ear, he covered her hand with his and lifted it away from his crotch. “I can’t take much more of that, honey.”

  After laying her hand on his chest, he reached around and unhooked her bra. All the while, she kissed his neck and shoulder. He removed her bra, tossed it on the floor, then lifted her breasts in his hands and leaned back away from her just enough to take a good look.

  Damn, what a pair of tits! High, firm, round, and a lot more than a handful. He lowered his mouth and suckled her. She tossed back her head and gripped his forearms.

  With his mouth sucking on her nipple and his hands kneading her butt, he backed her across the room to the sofa, then toppled her over and came down on top of her. She touched him and kissed him, whimpering and pleading, her body writhing, trying to get closer to him. Barely managing to control her, he lifted her hips and yanked her panties down and off; then before she knew what he intended, he spread her legs apart and positioned himself between her thighs.

  She grabbed his head, threading her fingers through his hair. “Jim…?”

  He delved his tongue between her wet, swollen lips, seeking her clitoris. When he found the little nub, he pressed his tongue against it. Bernie bucked her hips and tightened her fingers in his hair. Loving the guttural sounds she made, he licked and stroked and sucked. Realizing she was on the verge of coming, he lapped a littler harder, a little faster—and lifted his hands up to cover her breasts. When he pinched both nipples tightly, she fell apart, gushing as she came. Moaning. Shivering.

  When he lifted his head, she opened her arms to him.

  He eased up and over her, kissing her from mound to navel, from navel to breasts, from breasts to lips. She put her arms around him and licked his ear.

  “I want you inside me.”

  “The condoms are in my bedroom,” he told her.

  “Then let’s go to your bedroom.”

  He slid off her and stood; then when she sat up, he shoved his arm beneath her and hoisted her off the sofa and into his arms. She clung to him as he carried her across the living room and into the hall that separated the two bedrooms.

  He sat at the desk covered with his art supplies and admired the sketch he had just completed. A portrait of Robyn Granger, a woman almost as beautiful as Heather Stevens. Robyn possessed the same silky black hair, the same dark brown eyes, the same tall, shapely body. Their features weren’t identical, of course. No one on earth looked just like Heather. She had been perfect in ways no other woman was or ever could be. Heather had been the ideal woman. She had been destined to be his. But fate had played a cruel hoax on them.

  No, no, that’s not true, an evil inner voice told him. Fate didn’t play a cruel hoax on the two of you. Heather was the one who played the cruel hoax on you.

  He covered his ears with his open palms. “I won’t listen. I won’t. Get out of my head and leave me alone. Heather loved me. She told me she did. She promised me—”

  She promised you her body, but she never had any intention of keeping that promise. She made a fool of you, that’s what she did.

  Outraged that he could not control the voice inside his head, could not erase the painful memories, he swept his hand across the table and sent his art supplies flying through the air. Breathing hard, tears threatening to blind him, he went down on all fours and searched for two items—the sketch of Robyn and the string of pearls that would be his first gift to her.

  Sitting in the middle of his bedroom, he clutched the portrait and the pearls to his chest. He was sick and tired of being disappointed over and over again by women who swore that they loved him, who enticed him with their sexy bodies and beautiful faces, then in the end begged him to set them free.

  They might hurt him, disappoint him, and lie to him, but they did not make the rules of the game. He made the rules. He gave the orders. He snapped his fingers and they obeyed him. He possessed the power, all the power. The power of life and death. He’d shown Heather how strong and powerful he was. He had proved to her that he was not the spineless wimp she had accused him of being.

  He was a man who knew how to control his woman.

  With an iron fist!

  Robyn sat on the sofa, her legs stretched out, her back propped against Raymond. His arms encircled her, crisscrossing over her in a gentle, protective embrace. Neither of them had been able to sleep after the phone call from the man who had referred to himself as her secret admirer. And making love again had been out of the question. Robyn was far too tense. Raymond was understanding, God bless him. She didn’t know what she’d ever done to deserve such a wonderful man.

  “I think we should call Bernie tonight,” he said.

  She caressed his arms that cradled her so tenderly. “I will not ruin my sister’s big night. Calling her in the morning will be soon enough.”

  “But if that note and phone call came from the man who has already killed three Adams County women—”

  Turning in his arms, she kissed him. Just a quick, let’s not-argue-about-it kiss. “You’ll stay with me all night, won’t you?”

  “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away. You know that I’d never leave you alone after—”

  “I can’t think about it. If I do, I’ll go out of my mind.”

  “Then don’t think about it,” he told her. “Talk to me about something else.”

  “Why don’t you talk to me?”

  “About what?”

  “Tell me what you want to do with the rest of your life,” she said. “Do you want to get married again? Do you want children? Do you want to stay here in Adams Landing?”

  He kissed her temple. “Yes, I want to get married again and I most certainly want to have children. And I’d like to spend the rest of my life in Adams Landing.”

  “Would you marry someone like me?” she asked.

  “No, I wouldn’t marry someone like you because there is no one on earth like you, Robyn. But I would marry you in a heartbeat, if you’d agree to be my wife.”

  A sweet, warm pleasure came alive inside Robyn, overpowering the fear and dread of what tomorrow might bring, temporarily vanquishing the menacing shadows lurking out there somewhere in the night. Raymond made her happy, made her feel safe, made her feel loved and cherished.

  “What if one of these days I decide I want to marry you?” The idea of being Raymond’s wife was beginning to appeal to her. “Could we have a big, splashy wedding? I’ve always wanted a dozen bridesmaids. And a white limo and a reception at the country club and a honeymoon in Hawaii—”

  “Marry me and you can have any kind of wedding and honeymoon you want.”

  “You think I’m teasing you, don’t you?” She pivoted her head so that she could make eye contact with him. “I’m not. Honest, Raymond, I’m not teasing.”

  “You’re just frightened right now and appreciate having a big, strong man around to hold you.”

  “No, that’s not it. I swear it’s not.”

  When she grasped his face between her open palms, he removed her hands immediately and held them in his. “I’m not walking away from you when you need me, sweetheart. I’ll be around for as long as you’ll let me stay, for as long as you want me.”

  Tears clouded her vision. “I think if we get married, we should have a little girl. I’d love to have a daughter. Of course, I know men like to have sons—”

  “I can’t imagine a greater blessing than having a child with you. A little girl who looks just like her
mommy.”

  Robyn adjusted herself so that she could lie in his arms, her head on his chest. “I’d want her to have your eyes. Have I ever told you what beautiful eyes you have?”

  “Yes, you have. Thank you.”

  He held her with tender comfort, his embrace a protective balm, soothing her rattled nerves, putting a barrier between her and the unknown threat that could take her life. And it was in that moment that Robyn knew, without any doubts whatsoever, that she loved Raymond Long.

  Jim’s bedroom door stood wide open, so Bernie saw inside as soon as they reached the threshold. The only illumination came from three night-lights that were plugged into three separate outlets around the room. The bed had been neatly made and turned down, the sheets and pillowcases a pale cream. A small bouquet of mixed summer flowers rested on the nightstand. Bernie smiled to herself. Jim Norton had prepared this room for them—for her.

  He carried her over to the bed, then paused and asked, “Is everything okay? I know you women like romantic settings and all, but I’m not much of a romantic. I thought about candles, but I couldn’t light them earlier and leave them burning. I figured the night-lights would have to do. And I bought new sheets. The salesgirl said that four hundred count were good sheets, whatever that means.”

  Bernie’s smile widened. He’d gone to a lot of trouble, had done his best to make things nice for her, which made her love him all the more.

  She lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “It’s very nice. Thank you.”

  He leaned over and deposited her on the bed. Suddenly, she felt vulnerable. She was completely naked, her body with all its flaws completely exposed. When Jim had been busy bringing her to a climax using his very talented tongue, she hadn’t given her nudity a thought, nor, she suspected, had Jim. But now he was standing over her, looking at her as if she were his favorite dessert, and all she could think about was, Did he find her beautiful and desirable, or did he think she was fat and ugly and regret getting himself into this situation?