by Karen Fenech
“Over dressed,” he said.
She mumbled her agreement.
He shed his jeans, his movements jerky with impatience, then lifted her hips to remove hers. In the blink of an eye they were skin to skin below the waist and the feel of his aroused body against her ratcheted her desire.
She yanked at his T-shirt and when he’d obligingly shed that too, she splayed her hands over the broad span of his chest, then across the ridges of muscle on his abdomen.
Those taut muscles quivered beneath her touch. He groaned, pressed her against the mattress, and covered her with his big body. His mouth fused with hers and he kissed her hard as if he wanted to devour her. She clung to him, entwining her arms and legs around him.
His erection was straining against her, wanting entrance. She wanted that as well, but he drew back, ending the kiss. Before she could protest, his open mouth trailed hot and wet down her body, stimulating every nerve ending as he made his descent.
When he reached her thighs, he parted them gently then slid his hands beneath her, clutching her bottom and brought her to his mouth. The touch of his tongue on her went through her like a jolt of electricity. She threw her head back, arched off the bed, and gasped his name.
She was writhing when he finally moved over her and pushed inside her. Waves of sensation began immediately and she gripped his biceps, her nails digging into the thick muscle there.
He was as close to the edge as she was. His need as fierce. Sweat dampened his skin. His face pulled taut. As she cried out her release, he uttered a deep groan and found his own.
He was lying on top of her now. His chest was heaving as he took in big mouthfuls of air. Face down with his head touching hers, his every breath brushed her cheek. She was sucking in air as well. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of them breathing in tandem, all that she was capable of at the moment.
Her stomach growled.
He laughed and brushed his lips across her temple. “Let’s get you fed.”
* * *
Burke lay awake. Snuggled against him, Eve breathed deeply in sleep. After they’d eaten, they’d made love again. That became the pattern for the rest of the day and into the night. Make love. Eat. Make love. After their last bout of love making, after he’d made sure that her need for food had been again met, they’d returned to bed. He’d brought her tight against his side and with his arms around her, just watched her gently fall into sleep.
She’d been asleep for some time. As for himself, sleep eluded him. He’d made a thorough study of Eve Collins. Recalling how thorough had his body hardening again. But it wasn’t her sexy body that ruled his thoughts now. He’d studied Eve herself. Knew everything there was to know about her. And now he was questioning all he’d learned because he couldn’t reconcile the woman he’d apprehended, the woman in his bed, with the one who would create a weapon for terrorists.
Eve mumbled in her sleep. Burke turned to her. A sliver of moonlight cut diagonally across the bed. It was just enough light to illuminate her face, contorted in an expression of pain.
Burke’s gut clenched. “Eve.” He kept his tone soft.
Her lips moved. Her head thrashed on the pillow.
“Eve.” Burke wrapped his arms around her. “Wake up, baby.”
She cried out and her eyes sprang open.
“Easy. It’s okay. You were dreaming. Just a dream,” he said.
Must have been one hell of a dream. Her breathing was rapid. She was trembling in his arms. Burke brought her closer, pressing her face against his bare chest. His skin grew damp and he realized she was crying.
Keeping one arm around her, Burke switched on the bedside lamp. In the stark light, he saw she was chalk white. Tears still slid down her cheeks. He felt helpless in the face of her tears. Couldn’t stand that something had reduced her to tears.
“Eve, what is it?”
She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched her shoulders as if trying to huddle in on herself. “I was dreaming about the accident.” Her voice was strained. “About Emily.”
He stroked her cheek. “Tell me about it.”
She released a tremulous breath. “We were driving home from buying groceries. Emily was in the back seat. I was crossing the intersection when a truck broadsided us.” Eve’s breath hitched. The brunt of the impact was to the back seat. Emily was killed instantly.”
Fresh tears streamed down Eve’s cheeks. Sobs shook her. Burke wrapped his arms around her, drawing her as tight to him as he could, sharing her pain in the only way he could.
He held her until she stopped trembling, until her tears were spent. Gently, he raised her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed from the torrent of tears. Her grief wrenched his heart.
“Do you dream of the accident often?”
“All the time for the first few years. Not as often anymore.”
He wondered if their recent conversation about Emily had sparked the dream.
“I’ve been over it a million times,” Eve said. “If I’d just done something differently, Emily would still be alive.”
“You weren’t to blame for the accident. I read the report. The truck ran a red light.”
Eve nodded, but Burke believed some part of her would always blame herself.
Though the last thing he wanted to do was to bring another man into their bed, Burke wanted to know about her husband, about the man Eve had once loved. Maybe still loved. His gut clenched and his next breath came a little shaky.
He knew her husband had been the one to initiate the divorce. From his investigation, Burke had learned that she and her husband officially separated within a few months of the death of their daughter.
She was worn out, though, and he had no intention of satisfying his curiosity at her expense. His questions could wait.
He pulled back, looked into her eyes, his gaze warm and tender. He caressed her cheek, as a smile spread slowly across her lips. He returned that smile. He kissed her softly.
“Do you think you can sleep now?”
She nodded.
He switched off the lamp then rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.
Within a few moments she was asleep again. Not so for him. It would be some time before sleep came to him.
Chapter Eleven
When Eve woke, Burke was not in bed. Recalling how she’d cried all over him last night, her cheeks heated with embarrassment. He’d gotten more than the pleasure of a night of love making. No doubt he hadn’t planned on her coming apart on him.
Her own ability to reveal her grief to him surprised her. She always kept her grief over Emily to herself, clutched tight to her. With Burke she’d opened up and shared her hurt. He’d been a rock for her. No matter what happened from this point on between them, she would always remember that last night he’d made the pain over Emily’s death a little more bearable.
Eve left the bedroom. She spotted Burke in the kitchen. He was speaking on his cell phone. When she would have left him to finish his call while she went to shower and dress, he caught her hand.
“. . . send it all to me, Lanski,” Burke said. “Thanks.” His closed the phone. His gaze fixed on her. “How are you?”
She didn’t need to ask what he meant. “Okay.” She smiled to illustrate her point.
He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her palm. “I’m glad.” He released her.
“I’ll cook breakfast this morning,” she said. “Think about what you’d like while I shower and dress.”
He didn’t respond.
“John. John?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you hear what I said? About breakfast?”
“Breakfast, right.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
Eve nodded slowly. “I’ll get myself together and be right back.”
He smoothed back her hair, ran his thumb across her lips. “I was hoping you’d stay as you are. You drove me crazy the other day when you showed up for breakfast straight f
rom bed.”
His eyes had darkened in a look she now recognized as passion. “I thought I’d put you off.”
He made a strangled sound. “Far from it.”
The thought and the appreciation in his eyes felt wonderful. She leaned in and kissed him. “I won’t be long.”
He nodded but she could see he’d lapsed into his own thoughts again.
* * *
He was like that for the rest of the day. Distracted was the only way she could describe it. Whatever he had on his mind was all consuming. Was he re-thinking their intimacy? Regretting?
It hadn’t appeared so earlier, but the thought became a lead weight as the day progressed and he remained distant.
She turned her attention to the charge against her. She re-read the chemist profiles. Again, she found nothing in them to identify the person who’d switched her insulin.
By nine p.m., she was wrung out, emotionally and physically. Another day had ended and she was no closer to proving her innocence. Burke’s cell phone had remained silent all day. Lanski hadn’t called in with breaking news that would exonerate her either.
She could not despair. Not lose hope. Frustration and fear were taking a toll on her. She needed rest. Once she’d recharged, she would come up with a way to prove her innocence.
Seated across the table from her, Burke was making notes on a legal pad. He’d been at the task for some time. He looked as tired as she felt.
“Coming to bed?” she asked him.
He looked at her then. The first time in hours. “Later. You go ahead.”
* * *
She drifted into a dreamless sleep, after hours passed and Burke didn’t come in to bed. In the morning, when she awoke, she was still alone. She showered and dressed then found him where she’d left him last night - at the table in the kitchen.
His laptop was open, his index finger tapping the keypad. His brows were drawn together. The skin on his forehead was puckered with his frown as his read something on the screen.
A mug of coffee sat on the table. She took a sip and winced. Stone cold.
“John?”
He glanced up at her, his eyes heavy-lidded from the night without sleep.
“What are you still doing out here?” she asked.
“Tell me about Richard Patterson.”
“What?”
“Tell me about Patterson.”
“Why?” Her heart accelerated with a sudden thought. “Have you been going over the chemist profiles? Have you found something?” She set the mug down and glanced over his shoulder at his computer. Not the chemist profiles. The document he had open on the screen had her name on it. “What is that?”
“The Intel we gathered on Richard Patterson and you. I had Lanski send it to me.”
She linked her hands in a tight grip. “Have you found something?”
“No.”
Disappointment wrapped around her like a cloak.
“Tell me about Patterson,” Burke repeated.
“You already asked me about Richard. On the day he died. Remember? You have a dossier on him, I’m sure. I don’t know what you think I could tell you that your expert investigators haven’t told you.”
“You knew him. You had a line to him that we couldn’t have. Did he make any new friends recently? Reconnect with an old one? Start seeing a new woman? Change clothing stores, barbers, dentists?”
He’d asked the questions in rapid-fire. Eve felt the shift from lover to agent. She’d thought they were past that. Apparently not, and the realization hurt.
She placed her arms around herself in a tight hug. “I don’t know about any of that. He didn’t talk about those things with me. We didn’t socialize.” She shook her head slowly. “Didn’t spend anytime together out of the lab. We didn’t have a relationship apart from the work.”
“Tell me about Richard’s work?”
She lifted one shoulder. “He was brilliant. One of the best in the cosmetology business.”
“According to his tax records, Patterson was doing well, but he wasn’t making what one of the best in business should be making.”
Burke was right about that. “Richard probably could have marketed his skill better, but he didn’t have the temperament to do that.” Eve rubbed her brow. “He was difficult to work with. Difficult with clients. I think the reason he took me on as a partner was so I could be the ‘people’ person of our firm. I spent a lot of time smoothing feathers he’d ruffled and putting out his fires.”
“So Patterson had problems playing nice with others.”
“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but I guess you could say that.”
“He had an expensive lifestyle. He spent more than he earned. Did you know about that?”
“I know he liked nice things. I don’t know the specifics.” “Did you know he was siphoning money from the business? Charging meals, plane tickets, Italian suits to the business account?”
“I knew of some.”
“Only some? He’d made significant withdrawals from your bank funds recently. He was stealing from you. How could you not know that?”
Eve flung her arm out. “I didn’t know it was that bad. Richard and I had gone head to head over his spending in the past. We always worked it out. In the last few months though, I noticed a change in his attitude about his work. He’d never given any project he took on less than his best. It was a point of pride with him. But he’d stopped caring. I thought he was losing interest in the business and was gathering funds to offer to buy him out.”
“Why did you think he was losing interest?”
“He’d stopped coming to work. Wasn’t completing projects. I don’t know what to tell you except what I’ve been telling you all along - I don’t know anything.” She shook her head. “Why did you have my case files sent, John? Why now?”
Burke got to his feet. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were taut with tension. A muscle throbbed in his cheek.
He rubbed his hands down his face. “I’m going to grab a shower then shut down for a few hours.”
“I -”
He was already gone.
* * *
Burke braced his hands against the shower stall and stuck his head beneath the spray. As the hot, pounding water struck him, he asked himself: Had he overlooked something in this investigation? Drawn conclusions about Eve in haste?
If so, it would be a first.
He was good at what he did. Very good. Yet, as he reviewed the information against her now, it no longer fit the way it had. Eve’s guilt no longer seemed apparent.
Richard Patterson had named Eve as his accomplice. That fact was indisputable. Yet there was no reason for him to have involved her. Patterson hadn’t been asked about a partner. Why had he named her at all? He’d implicated her. Why?
Did it matter except as something that Burke could latch onto to build a case in his mind that Patterson had set Eve up, for some yet undetermined reason? That Eve was innocent?
Burke pressed his brow to the tile and closed his eyes. Did he want so badly to believe that she was innocent that he was grasping at straws? Seeing a set up that wasn’t there . . .
Eve was on the porch when he emerged from the shower. She stood against a post that he suddenly noticed needed a fresh coat of paint. He’d never noticed the post looked dull until Eve was beside it.
She didn’t turn when he joined her outside, but her shoulders tensed and he knew she was aware of him.
“Something is wrong with this case,” he said. “That something is you. You’re wrong.”
She looked at him then. Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears.
“You asked why I had Lanski send the files. Why now?” Burke’s voice thickened. “Because I know you now. I know you couldn’t have had anything to do with Richard’s formula. Someone is using you as a scapegoat. We’re going to find out who that is.”
Her lips quivered. Tears spilled onto her cheeks.
He closed the distance between them an
d brought her to him in a near-crushing embrace.
* * *
In the aftermath of making glorious love, Eve lay with Burke’s arms around her, her head on his shoulder. A light rain had started. The bedroom window was open to the screen and Eve took a deep breath of the rain smell and the scents of earth and bark and wildflowers mingled with it.
