There was no time for thought, no time for reason, there was only Carolyn and the magic of holding her, kissing her. She was like a fine wine, and with each sip he only grew more intoxicated.
Her mouth was hot, her tongue as aggressive as his, as the kiss lingered on. He felt himself responding with an intensity that stunned him. He was fire and she was oil, feeding the flames of desire higher and higher.
He could feel her heart, thundering in rhythm with his own as his hands moved beneath her blouse and caressed her breasts. The erotic feel of her lacy bra against the heat of her flesh only heightened his want. He felt the hardness of her nipples, pressing up as if seeking his caress, and a deep moan escaped his mouth.
He'd never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Carolyn. He'd never felt such need, such want before in his life. Holding her in his arms filled an ache of emptiness he'd never realized existed deep inside him.
Carolyn was lost—lost in the sensations Beau evoked, lost in his scent, his feel, his very soul. As his lips moved down her neck, sparking heat where they touched, she yielded completely to him, wanting only the completeness his caresses promised would follow.
"Da-da."
The baby voice shattered the moment, brought reality slamming back to Carolyn's mind. Beau immediately sat up, a look of bewildered surprise on his face.
They both looked over to where Trent was on all fours, his baby face beaming a smile as he crawled toward them. "Da-da. Da-da."
Beau jumped to his feet, staring at the little boy in awe. "Did you hear that?" he asked Carolyn. "He said Da-da. He called me Da-da."
Carolyn stood up and straightened her blouse, embarrassment sweeping over her as violently, as intensely as desire had only moments before. "Yes, that's what it sounded like." She didn't have the heart to tell him she thought that Trent was just babbling and had no idea of the meaning behind the babbles. She didn't want to erase the look of wonder on Beau's face.
Beau reached out and plucked the crawling child from the edge of the blanket. "Hey slugger," he said. "Did you have a nice nap?"
Trent grabbed Beau's nose and laughed in glee. Despite the discomfort of the whole situation, Carolyn couldn't help but smile in response to Trent's antics. At that moment Brent woke up and, seeing his brother in Beau's arms, raised his hands toward Beau with a cry of outrage.
As Beau laughed and hefted Brent to his other hip, Carolyn's desire hit her square in the stomach once again. It wasn't a physical desire as much as it was the wish to be a part of a family, to be a part of some thing bigger than just herself.
As she watched Beau laughing and talking to the boys, she felt very much the outsider. Trent suddenly grinned at her and held out his hands, babbling as if trying to tell her some thing to make her laugh. He bobbed up and down in Beau's grasp, then leaned toward Carolyn, his arms once again stretched out toward her.
"You'd better take him before he bounces right out of my grip," Beau said. "Maybe we should call it a day. These guys will be hungry before long," he said, as Carolyn took Trent. "Besides, I'd like to stop by Mary and Bob's and pick up some of the kids' things on the way home."
"You don't have all their things?" Carolyn asked curiously.
Beau shook his head. "Iris is the executor of Bob and Mary's estate. When she took the boys, she took what she needed to get by but left a lot of their things at the house. Iris hasn't had a chance to take care of much of anything concerning the estate, and as far as I know, nobody has been in the house since the funeral."
It took them several minutes to pack up and reload the car. As Beau drove back toward town, Carolyn was grateful that he had no need to explain or discuss their momentary lapse into insanity.
She didn't want to discuss, dwell on, even think about those moments when she'd been in his arms. It bothered her that it was getting more and more difficult to remember that he was her adversary.
Bob and Mary's home was a small, attractive ranch-style. As Beau pulled into the driveway, a pang of heart-ache clutched at Carolyn as she saw the flowers that bloomed in the beds, the cheerful welcome wreath that adorned the front door.
With Carolyn carrying Trent, and Beau toting Brent, they got out of the car and approached the house. Immediately upon entering, Carolyn knew her friend had been happy here. The decor radiated warmth and happiness.
"I'll just be a minute or two," Beau said, then disappeared down a hallway that led to the bedrooms.
Carolyn wandered through the living room, seeing signs of Mary's personality every where. Like Carolyn, Mary had been raised with wealthy, distant parents. Unlike Carolyn, Mary had been blessed in her marriage. It was obvious she had finally found love and a place where she belonged.
The kitchen only confirmed Carolyn's thoughts. Cheerful in tones of brilliant yellow, the room beamed with Mary's love of life. Carolyn paused in front of the refrigerator, where pictures of the boys and Bob were held by little magnets. Yes, Mary had been happy here. At least she had known happiness before her death. There was an odd piece of comfort in that.
Leaving the kitchen, Carolyn followed the hallway to the first bedroom, where Beau was packing a suitcase with little summer clothes. "I'm almost finished," he said.
"Take your time," Carolyn said as she moved to the next bedroom, apparently the one Bob and Mary had shared. Although the surfaces of all the furniture held a layer of dust, the rooms looked like they were just waiting for the couples' return. A book sat on the night table, along with a glass of water and a box of tissues. A pale blue nightgown lay across the foot of the bed. The sight caused grief to rise up inside Carolyn, and she backed out of the room, feeling like an intruder in an intimate setting where she didn't belong.
She backed into Beau and whirled around to face him, a tear slipping down her cheek. "You okay?" he asked softly.
She nodded and sighed tremulously, holding Trent tightly against her. "Mary was always after me to take some time off from work and come here to visit them. I wish—" She faltered and drew in a deep breath.
"I know." He reached out and caught her tear with his fingertip. "Let's get out of here."
Carolyn shook her head. "I want to see the rest of the house." She walked past him and poked her head into the bathroom. Conscious of Beau following her, she turned and smiled softly at him. "I know it sounds silly, but I want to see every room in the house. I want to be able to visualize Bob and Mary here…happy."
He nodded as if he under stood and Carolyn moved on to the last bedroom, decorated in the universal style of a spare room. A single bed was covered with a floral spread, and a bookcase adorned one wall.
"I can't tell you how many nights I spent in this room," Beau said from the doorway as Carolyn walked over to the bookcase. She looked at the titles, unsurprised to find a selection of hard cover classics, mingling with paper back romances. Mary had always loved to read.
She turned and smiled at Beau. "She really loved it here, didn't she?"
He nodded. "I've never seen a woman more satisfied with her life and her choices than Mary."
"We can go now." Carolyn started to leave the room but hesitated as she saw a small dark maroon book and a handful of change on the top of the dresser. Frowning, her heart beating a curious rhythm in her chest, she walked over to the book and picked it up.
"Carolyn? What is it?"
Carolyn stared at the address book, her hand visibly shaking. "This…this is Sam's." She sank down on the edge of the bed, her head reeling in shock. "He was here…here in Casey's Corners, here in this house." She jumped back up, startling Brent who began to cry. "Sam was here. Oh, Beau, we've got to find him. He's in such terrible trouble."
Chapter 8
Beau sat down next to Carolyn on the small bed. "Who is Sam?"
"He's my brother." She didn't look at Beau. She patted Trent absently with one hand. Her other hand tightly grasped the address book.
"I didn't even know you had a brother," Beau said in surprise. "Mary never mentioned him." Brent rea
ched up and grabbed Beau's nose. Beau absently pulled his hand away.
"Sam is five years older than me. He wasn't around much when Mary and I were close." She raised eyes darkened with pain to Beau. "Sam has been missing for the last month." She stood once again. "Maybe he's been hiding out here, in this house, in this very room." Her eyes lit with hope.
Beau looked around the room, his law-enforcement training automatically kicking in. He looked back at Carolyn, knowing his next words would wipe the hope right out of her eyes. "Carolyn, look around. The dust in here hasn't been disturbed. Nobody has been in this room or in this house for several weeks."
His heart convulsed as her eyes once again lost the glow of hope and returned to a deeper, darker blue. "Are you sure the book is his?" he asked, once again removing Brent's little hand from his nose.
She nodded. "I gave it to him two years ago for his birthday. See, it has his initials right here." She traced a finger over the small gold letters.
"Come on, let's go home. Then you can tell me all about this missing brother of yours." He couldn't think with Trent crying and Brent wrenching his nose. And he had a feeling the story of Sam was going to take some deep thought.
The ride back to Beau's was silent apart from the twins' jabbering. Beau looked over at Carolyn, who still held tightly to the address book as if it was a lifeline to the missing brother. His blood throbbed as he smelled the brewing of a mystery.
When they got back home they fed the kids, then put them in their playpen. It wasn't until the boys were playing quietly that Beau took Carolyn by the hand and led her over to the sofa.
"Now, tell me all about this brother of yours and why he's missing," he said.
She stared thoughtfully at the kids, then finally turned and focused her gaze on Beau. "It all started with the murder of my father."
Beau sucked in a deep breath, and she closed her eyes, obviously fighting her emotions. He sup pressed the urge to reach over and embrace her. He didn't trust that he could offer comfort without desire, especially remembering how quickly his passion had risen out by the pond.
"A month ago my father was murdered, shot in the head in his office at the corporation. It was late in the evening, the offices were closed. It was unusual for Father to even be there at that time." She hesitated a moment and picked up the address book from the coffee table. Her fingers gripped it so tightly, her knuckles turned white. "A witness saw Sam running from the building and the police have indicated that Sam is the prime suspect in the case."
"And what do you think?" he asked gently.
Her face reddened with rising emotion. "I think the whole idea that Sam had anything to do with my father's murder is absolutely ludicrous." She threw the address book back on the coffee table.
"So, where is Sam?"
Despair swept over her features. "I don't know. He disappeared on the night of the murder. He hasn't contacted me or my sisters. He hasn't been in touch with his wife or his little girl. It's like he vanished off the face of the earth. But this—" she pointed to the address book "—tells me he's been here in Casey's Corners. He might still be here somewhere."
"If he's innocent, then why is he hiding out?" Beau's mind was once again in the mode of a law-enforcement officer.
Carolyn frowned. "I don't know," she said again, her voice low and unsteady. "All I'm certain of is Sam's innocence." Tears sparkled on the ends of her lashes.
This time, Beau didn't fight his impulse. He placed an arm around her shoulders and drew her into an embrace. She burrowed her head against him and his heart responded to her on a purely emotional level.
As he held her his mind assessed what little she'd told him. The murder of a father, the disappearance of a son. He'd been involved in police work for too long to believe Carolyn's avowal of her brother's innocence unconditionally. People rarely believed family members were capable of heinous crimes.
"Tell me about Sam," he urged. She started to move out of his arms, but he tightened his embrace, unwilling to break the physical contact.
She sank back against him with a sigh. "I wasn't close to him when we were growing up. Sam joined the army when he was eighteen and spent the next ten years away from home. It wasn't until six years ago that he left the army and started working for the family business. Soon after that, he married Julianne and Emily was born."
"You're telling me what Sam has done, not what he's like," Beau objected. This time when she pushed to move out of his embrace, he reluctantly let her go.
She sat up and ran a hand through her hair, looking charmingly mussed and heartbreakingly vulnerable. "When he was growing up, what I remember most clearly about him was that he was an angry, rebellious young man." She smiled thoughtfully. "Sam always had a quick temper and he'd fight to the end for what he believed in, but when the argument was over he never held a grudge." The smile faded. "The arguments between Sam and my father were legendary around the offices, which probably didn't help Sam when the police began to look for suspects."
She looked at Beau, her eyes clear and determined. "All I can tell you is that in the past couple of years I got to know Sam better than ever, and he isn't the kind of man who would commit murder, especially the murder of his own father."
"So why is he running?" Beau pressed, his curiosity piqued.
"I don't know why, but I can tell you what I think." She hesitated a moment, obviously collecting her thoughts. "I think Sam was in the office that night and he saw some thing, maybe saw who the real murderer was, and now he's running for his life."
Beau slowly digested this information. "So, what would make him come here, to Casey's Corners?"
She frowned, the charming furrow appearing between her eyebrows. "The only thing I can think of is that Bob worked as head of security for Baker Enterprises for over a year. During that time Sam and Bob struck up a friendship."
"You think there's a possibility that Sam came here specifically to talk to Bob about some thing to do with the company?"
"I suppose it's possible," she agreed, "although it's also possible he just came here to hide out for a while. About a week before the car accident, Mary told me she thought she'd seen Sam here in town, but she wasn't sure. I didn't follow it up because we had people calling us every day to tell us Sam had been spotted first one place, then another."
"Maybe we need to ask around town, see if anyone else has had contact with him," Beau suggested.
"Oh, Beau, that's a wonderful idea." She stood, as if eager to get started right away. "Maybe he's still here somewhere, or somebody knows where he is."
"Wait a minute," he protested. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back down on the sofa. "Remember, it's Sunday. We'd be better off waiting until tomorrow morning to start asking questions when the businesses are open and people are back in their routines."
"I suppose you're right," she said reluctantly. She looked at the kids in their playpen and frowned.
Beau knew what she was thinking. It would be difficult for her to ask questions while toting the boys along. "I'll tell you what," he said, quickly making a decision. "I'll call Regina and see if she'll watch the twins for a couple of hours tomorrow, and I'll tell Waylon I'm taking those hours off. A lot of these people won't know you and might not answer your questions, but they'll talk to me."
She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. "I don't know how to thank you."
Immediately he could think of several ways he would love for her to display her undying gratitude, but he wisely kept them to himself. Instead he stood. "I'll be right back. I'll go make that call."
When Beau left the room, Carolyn once again picked up the maroon address book and ran a finger over the gold initials. "Oh, Sam, what's going on?" she said softly.
She looked over at Trent and Brent, who were engrossed in a childish game of building towers with blocks. There had been a moment when they had all been out by the pond, when she'd entertained the thought of separating the kids. After all, it wasn't a case for King Solomon
; there were two children, and two people fighting for custody.
She now dis missed that idea. Separating them to appease the wishes of two adults was no solution. Trent and Brent were brothers and deserved to be raised together, loving each other, supporting each other.
Perhaps if she and her sisters and Sam had been raised in a close, loving atmosphere, Sam wouldn't be missing now. He would be assured of his siblings' support and could face whatever charges had to be faced.
"All settled. We'll take the kids over to Regina and Waylon's around eight in the morning. She'll watch them for as long as we need her to," Beau said as he came back into the room.
Once again gratitude filled Carolyn's heart and she was relieved that she wouldn't have to face asking questions alone. "Now we have another major problem," she said.
"What's that?" Beau leaned down and picked up a block that Trent had tossed out of the playpen.
"If the diner is closed on Sunday nights, then what are we going to do for supper?"
He grinned—that wicked, sexy smile that made her heart flip-flop in her chest. "You don't cook at all?"
She shook her head and smiled sheepishly. "Not a thing."
"Then I guess we're at the mercy of my culinary skill for tonight. Come on, let's see what I can rustle up."
She followed him into the kitchen, thoughts of Sam on hold for the moment. Nothing more could be gained by wondering about Sam until morning when they could ask questions and hope fully get some answers. She sat down at the table and watched as Beau opened the refrigerator door and peered inside.
"Hmm, what are your feelings about eggs?" he asked.
She grinned. "I've always been glad that chickens are the ones who lay them."
His laughter warmed her heart, and she realized she didn't want to think about Sam or the custody battle. She didn't want to do anything but enjoy this moment of camaraderie between herself and Beau. "I've got cheese and mush rooms and fresh green onions. How about omelets?"
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