She frowned. “I hope this isn’t too big of an imposition. I probably shouldn’t have asked...”
“Ann, go to bed,” he said gently.
“Yes.” She turned to leave, then hesitated and looked back at him. “Thanks again.” She disappeared down the hallway and into the master suite. He heard the sound of her door closing, then a small click as she locked it.
For a long moment Clay sat on the sofa, thoughtfully stroking Twilight’s fur. He had a feeling her thank-you had come hard, that she wasn’t accustomed to asking for help, and therefore was unaccustomed to giving thanks. And she’d locked her bedroom door. She trusted him enough to have him stay here, but apparently not enough to keep her door unlocked. Another intriguing piece in a puzzle he shouldn’t even be contemplating putting together.
He sat scratching Twilight until he was certain Ann had had enough time to get settled in for the night. Then he got up and took off his uniform pants and shirt and tossed them onto the chair. He placed his gun on the table next to the sofa where he’d have easy access in case of an emergency.
Clad only in his T-shirt and briefs, he turned out the light and got beneath the sheets. He knew the odds were good that nothing would happen tonight. Ann had changed her locks and she probably would have been safe for the night without his presence.
His sole purpose for staying was to ease her mind, allow her to rest in the sleep of the protected. He tried to tell himself he would have done it for any woman under the circumstances, tried to convince himself it had nothing to do with Ann personally.
Still, with Twilight a warm ball at his side, visions of Ann in a sexy midnight blue nightgown danced in his mind as sleep overtook him.
Ann sat straight up, gasping for breath. Nightmare images danced in her head, familiar images from nightmares that had haunted her for years. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, willing herself to breathe deeply, evenly.
When the last vestige of the dream fell away, she reached over and turned on the lamp next to her bed. Her alarm clock read just a few minutes after two.
“Damn.” She covered her face with her hands, despair overwhelming her. She’d thought the nightmares were finally behind her, had hoped she’d never suffer through another one again. She hadn’t had one since moving to the condo and now they were back.
Even if her tormentor never did another thing to her, he’d managed to shatter her security, he’d brought back her nightmares.
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, knowing from experience that it would be some time before she could go back to sleep. What she needed was a cup of tea, her remedy for nightmares.
She left her room and turned on the hall light. She didn’t remember Clay’s presence until she walked into the living room and saw him there.
She froze in the doorway, her gaze captured by the sight of the half-dressed man sprawled on her sofa. He lay on his side and with the light filtering in from the hallway she could see he was sound asleep, his features softened with whatever dreams he entertained.
Twilight was curled up next to his chest. He gazed at her lazily, his eyes glowing incandescently, but didn’t budge from his position.
Her cheeks warmed as her gaze traveled down the length of Clay, taking in the width of his shoulders, the slim hips and the long, muscular legs that were covered with a fine dusting of dark hair. He looked so masculine, so capable.
For a moment she wished she could curl up next to him, feel the strength of his arms surrounding her, protecting her. That would be the perfect panacea for a nightmare, to be soothed and caressed until all memories of the dream fell away.
She silently passed him and went into the kitchen. Instead of turning on the overhead light, she switched on only the small light above the sink, then quietly set about to make a cup of tea. The microwave hummed as it heated water and as she unwrapped one of the tea bags the sound of the paper crumpling seemed magnified.
Finally she sat down at the table, the hot drink before her. She rubbed her forehead wearily and thought of the dream that had awakened her. Always the same. She was in bed in a dark, strange place. Frightened. Alone. She calls for her mama, needs her mama to come and tell her it’s all right. A door opens and a man comes in...a faceless stranger, a monster in the dark.
“You all right?”
She jumped and yelped. “Oh, you scared me.”
Clay walked into the kitchen, his hair tousled and his eyes still soft with sleep. He’d pulled on his slacks and held his gun in his hand. “Sorry. I woke up and heard somebody in here.” He set the gun on the countertop and slid into a chair at the table. “Can’t sleep?”
“I had a nightmare.”
“Probably stress. Stress is supposed to cause people to have all kinds of weird dreams.” He raked a hand through his hair, only managing to increase the dishevelment. “Wanna talk about it?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s all right. It’s an old, recurring nightmare from my childhood.” She flashed him a smile. “I’m fine, really. Want a cup of tea?”
He frowned his distaste. “No, thanks. My mom always made me drink that stuff whenever I was sick. Now that I’m an adult I refuse to drink it.”
Ann looked down in her cup, finding it easier to stare at the tea instead of at him in his undershirt. “This is a special blend, it’s said to help induce sleep. I’m not sure exactly what’s in it...lavender and orange peel and some other natural herbs.”
“Sounds nauseating.”
She laughed. “Yes, I suppose it does.” She gazed down at her cup again, disturbed by the setting and the man next to her.
The dim kitchen created an atmosphere that produced intimacy. Outside the window darkness reigned, reminding her it was the middle of the night and in other houses people were cuddled together in sleep.
Clay’s body radiated a sleepy warmth that made her want to lean against him, curl up and let his warmth suffuse her. She looked back up at him and for a moment their gazes locked. She wondered if he could read her thoughts, knew she wanted his arms around her.
His gaze swept over her and she suddenly became aware of the provocative nature of her nightgown. Although the blue material covered her, the lace edging at the low neck emphasized the swell of her breasts and the silk clung intimately to her skin. It was a gown designed for seduction, although she had bought it simply because wearing it made her feel good.
“Guess I’ll go back to bed,” he said abruptly. When he looked at her, she saw a spark of something breathtaking in his eyes. Desire. Fiery and strong, it radiated from his gaze. Her heart thudded in a foreign rhythm. She wanted him to go back to bed...she wanted him to take her in his arms and love her. Confusion swirled in her.
He stood up and the emotion she’d seen in his eyes was gone, making her wonder if she’d only imagined it in the first place.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine. I’ll just finish this tea and go back to bed.”
“Good night, Ann.” He turned and left the kitchen.
Ann drew in a deep breath, grateful he was gone, sorry he was gone. His very presence had chased away the residual fear from the nightmare. The kitchen suddenly felt dark and cold.
She drained the last of her tea and placed her cup in the sink, then turned out the light and made her way back through the living room. As she reached the doorway he called to her. She turned to face him.
“I hope the rest of your night is filled with pleasant dreams.”
“Thanks.” She turned and fled to her bedroom. If she dreamed, she had a feeling her dreams would still be disturbing, although in a very different way.
Chapter 6
Sleep was a long time coming for Clay once he got back on the sofa. The vision of Ann in that damnable nightgown tormented him. In reality she’d looked much sexier in it than he’d originally imagined. It had hugged her curves to perfection, the dark color setting off the creamy richness of her skin and the pale lustre of her hair. She’
d looked breathtakingly sensuous, achingly touchable.
He tossed and turned until just after dawn, then decided to get up. He could shower and dress and be out of here before Ann woke up.
As he stood beneath the shower, he berated himself for staying the night. He was in danger of losing his objectivity and spending the night at her house, smelling the sweet scent of her and having erotic visions of her filling his head wouldn’t help him as a cop.
Although he’d love to have an intense, physical relationship with her, he definitely wasn’t interested in anything more. He didn’t want any emotional entanglements to screw up his plans. It would take a hell of a lot more than an attractive blonde in trouble to keep him from his future dreams. He had a one-way ticket to Hawaii and he wasn’t about to let anything or anyone get in the way of his plans.
Once he’d showered and dressed, he went into the kitchen and made coffee. He hoped Ann slept late, knew she needed the rest after the turmoil of her life the past couple of days.
Twilight meandered into the kitchen and toward his food bowl, which was empty. The cat sat down and stared at Clay, as if by willpower alone he could force the human to do his bidding. It worked. Clay dug around in the cabinets until he found a can of cat food.
“Okay, buddy, it’s coming,” he said as he opened the can then spooned the smelly concoction into the dish.
As Clay drank his coffee, Twilight finished his meal, then sat on the rug and groomed himself. The early morning sun streamed into the window, portending another hot day and for just a moment Clay felt a curious contentment.
Something about the sun-kissed kitchen and the sated cat, the taste of the good coffee and the thought of Ann sleeping peacefully in the next room, filled him with a strange serenity.
He frowned and looked at his watch. Seven-thirty. Time for him to get moving. He washed the cups in the sink, reminded of that brief middle of the night sojourn with Ann. Funny, how in the conversations he’d had with her, he’d learned very little about her. She’d expertly steered the conversation so that he had talked about himself and they hadn’t talked about her.
He’d just finished rinsing the last cup when the doorbell rang. He hurried to the door, not wanting the noise to awaken Ann. He opened it to see Greg Thorton.
“Well, well. What a surprise.” Greg smiled in cool bemusement. His pale blue gaze swept down the length of Clay, obviously taking in the partially buttoned shirt and the beltless slacks. “I didn’t know the Graceton Police Department took such personal interest in their cases.”
“Greg?”
Both men turned to see Ann standing in the doorway. Although she had thrown a robe on over the sexy nightgown, with her eyes half-closed and her hair tousled carelessly, she looked as if she’d just been completely, thoroughly loved.
“Ann.” Greg stepped past Clay as if Clay were nothing more than an irritating butler. He took Ann’s hands in his. “Your friend here told me you’ve been getting nasty phone calls and that somebody had been in your home. I decided to stop by on my way to the office this morning to make sure you’re all right.”
“You work on Sundays?” Clay asked.
“I often work seven days a week,” he answered without looking at Clay.
“And where were you last night?” Clay asked, surprised to discover he didn’t like Greg touching Ann in any fashion.
Greg dropped Ann’s hands and turned back to Clay. “I was at home all evening. Why?”
“Somebody in a car tried to run Ann down in the parking lot of the mall last night.”
“And I suppose you want to know if I can substantiate my alibi?” Greg’s smile didn’t reach the coolness of his eyes. “Officer...what was your name again?”
“Clinton. Clay Clinton,” Clay answered although he knew Greg remembered his name perfectly. People who complained to the mayor rarely forgot the name of the person they’d complained about. “Is there somebody who can substantiate that you were at home all evening?”
“No one that I can think of offhand.” He turned back to Ann. “I really just stopped by to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Ann belted the robe more tightly around her waist, obviously discomfited by the tension radiating between the two men.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Ann shook her head. “No, it’s in the hands of the police and I’m sure they’ll take care of it.”
“I’m sure,” Greg said thinly. “You’ll call me if you need anything...anything at all.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Ann’s voice was strained, and Clay had the distinct impression she wasn’t necessarily pleased to see Greg.
Clay’s instincts went on alert. Was it possible there was more to their breakup than the amicable split they’d both maintained happened? He made a mental note to further check out Mr. Greg Thorton.
“Thank you for stopping by, Greg,” Ann said as she led him back to the front door. “I appreciate your concern.”
He paused in the doorway. “You know no matter that we no longer date, I do care about what happens to you.” With a curt nod to Clay, he turned and left.
Ann closed the door, leaned against it and expelled a deep breath. “Being around him always makes me feel like I’m not getting enough oxygen.”
“What do you mean?” Clay asked.
“He’s too focused, too confident...too...too everything. Whenever he’s around I feel like an insubstantial leaf blowing in his wind.”
“Is that why you broke up with him?”
She shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. “One of several reasons.” She ran fingers through her hair. “You want some breakfast?”
“No, thanks.” Clay looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get out of here and get to work. Would it be possible for you to come down to the station some time this afternoon? I need you to fill out some report forms on what happened last night.”
“Any particular time?”
“Let’s say about two.”
“Okay.” She walked with him to the door. “Clay...I want to thank you again for last night, for staying here.”
“You going to be all right today?”
She nodded. “Everything looks better in the light of day. I’ll be fine.”
Unable to stop his impulse, he reached out and softly touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Don’t open your door for anyone, no matter how well you think you know them. Don’t let anyone in. If anything happens, if you get frightened, call the station.”
Before he could follow through on any other impulses, he turned and left the house.
Ann closed and locked her door, disturbed by Greg’s visit, even more disturbed by Clay’s effect on her. Add in the trauma of the last four days of her life, and she should be a neurotic basket case. Thank God she wasn’t. Instead she was confused, angry and frightened.
She peeled off the bandages on her palms, aware that the best thing for the cuts and scrapes was fresh air. Besides, the wounds looked better this morning.
A chill danced through her as she remembered that moment in the parking lot, facing a car attempting to run her down. Never could she remember being so terrified. And what scared her more than anything was trying to anticipate what might happen next.
Going into the kitchen, she thought again of Greg’s surprise visit. She’d told Clay the truth when she said Greg always made it hard for her to breathe.
He’d come into her life with an overwhelming force, certain that she would make an appropriate wife for him. After all, she worked at a respectable job, lived in an exclusive area of the city. He’d decided she would make the perfect wife for an up-and-coming high-powered lawyer and he’d pursued her with a single-mindedness she’d found overpowering.
He’d spun a fantasy that she’d desperately wanted to believe in, the fantasy of a happily-ever-after. But, just as Cinderella had her evil stepmother, and Snow White had the wicked queen, there was a dark force in their fairy tale. And that
dark force was Ann’s past.
The closer she’d felt to Greg, the more she shared with him and the more of herself she’d shared with him, the greater distance she’d felt from him. His fantasy of the perfect, refined wife shattered and when Ann realized that, she’d broken off their relationship.
She’d made a cardinal mistake. She’d trusted him. Trust had always been difficult for her and it had been painfully ironic that the first man she chose to trust hadn’t been able to handle it, was incapable of the kind of love she needed.
As she wandered back into the living room, she thought of Clay and those moments they’d shared in the kitchen the night before. He’d helped banish the lingering effects of her nightmare with his silly stories of childhood...a childhood that had seemed wondrously normal and sane. She wondered what it would be like to be loved by a man like Clay, a man who seemed to have little baggage in his background, a man who appeared sensitive and loving. Still, she’d be wary to trust again, to tell any man the secrets of her background, the horrors of her past.
Stifling a yawn, she sank down on the sofa. Clay’s scent surrounded her, trapped in the sheets where he’d slept the night before. It was the smell of clean maleness mingling with a whisper of his enticing cologne.
She thought of that moment in the middle of the night, when his eyes had flamed with the fires of desire. She’d wanted to melt into him, let their combined desire sweep away the terror of the past four days, she wanted to dwell in the safety of his arms just for a little while.
Why not? a small voice whispered inside her head. They were both consenting adults and were responsible for their own actions. She had a feeling if she showed the least bit of interest in him, Clay would take the initiative and sweep her into his passion.
She stretched out on the sofa, burrowing into the sheets that still seemed to retain some of Clay’s body heat, an essence of him that was comforting.
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