Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She GoesA Promise for the BabyThat Summer at the Shore

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “My mother had an affair with him,” she said flatly—one second before the light rap of knuckles on her not-quite-latched door was followed by Noah stepping into the room. From his expression, she could tell he’d heard.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, not bothering to sound as if he meant it.

  The lieutenant wiped her face clean, the way Colin did so easily. To hide irritation? What could she say, given that Noah was essentially her boss, too?

  “There’s no reason you can’t hear this, Noah,” Cait said. “I truly can’t imagine it has anything to do with what’s happening now.”

  Jane glanced at her open notebook. “At ten years old, you understood that your mother was sleeping with a man not your father?”

  “Of course not.” Brisk, Cait told herself. Make it clear to both of them that this is ancient history, that’s all. “I knew he was Mommy’s friend. She took me with her sometimes to see him. He bought us burgers and fries. We took a picnic to a lake, that kind of thing. Only...maybe half a dozen times.”

  “And yet you remembered him.” The lieutenant sounded skeptical.

  Noah, leaning against the wall just inside the door, was watching Cait, but she didn’t look at him.

  “I doubt I would have, except when I was sixteen I found a packet of notes from him and a picture that my mother had kept. It was obvious from the notes that their relationship was sexual. I’d say my mother came crashing down from her pedestal, except, well, I was a teenager.”

  Jane cracked a smile. “And Mom had long since tumbled.”

  “Exactly. Even so, at the time, it was a big deal. That’s why he was stuck in my head.”

  “Did he seem...dismayed that you recognized him?”

  Cait thought back. “No. Surprised, maybe. Otherwise, the meeting was really underwhelming.”

  “And you haven’t seen him again?”

  She shook her head. “Nor heard from him. I half expected him to call, if only to ask about Mom, but their thing really was a long time ago.”

  Jane drilled on it some more, but she finally gave up. The meeting was so inconsequential, it couldn’t possibly be relevant unless the fact that Cait and he had run into each other at all seemed significant to someone.

  Cait took out her calendar, and they established that Jerry had been murdered the night she had had dinner with Beverly Buhl, Michael Kalitovic and Noah. Noah confirmed that he had followed Cait to her brother’s house after the dinner, and he was able to tell Jane precisely what time he’d left Cait. Jane didn’t question whether she had actually gone into the house, but close enough that Noah made a point of telling her Colin had come out on the porch to meet his sister. Which all seemed pointless to Cait; Colin had told her enough details, she knew Jerry’s murder had happened much later—probably sometime between 11:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. If she’d wanted to kill him, she could have sneaked out of the house after Colin and Nell were asleep.

  Colin could have done the same.

  Appearing disappointed, Lieutenant Vahalik finally left.

  Noah reached over and pulled the door completely shut behind her. “How are you?”

  “Do you know how often you ask me that?”

  “You live a wild life.”

  She scrunched up her nose at him. “I’m fine. Glad to be rid of Blake. Really freaked to find out someone else hates me.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just thinking this other person doesn’t necessarily hate you. He—I say that for convenience and because not many women carry a nine millimeter—may conceivably never even have met you.”

  “Oh, that’s a comfort.”

  His blue eyes were too perceptive. “How about dinner tonight? I can cook.”

  “Is it the sleepover you want?” She heard how sharp she sounded.

  Something ghosted across Noah’s face. She’d have given a lot to identify it.

  “We can have a nice evening without you having to face down your brother.”

  In other words, no. He didn’t want the commitment of having a woman—or, more specifically, her—actually spend the night. Last night had been different. He’d let his alarm get to him. But now his natural caution and disinterest in real commitment had kicked in.

  Part of Cait wanted to tell him she had other plans. But, of course, he’d know better. He was her social life. Plus, call her weak, but she wanted to spend the evening with him. She wanted to make love with him, in that big bed amid the construction mess.

  So after a minute, she nodded. “I’ll let Colin know.”

  “Good.” He didn’t move for a long minute, his gaze on her face. Then he took the couple of steps necessary to kiss her lightly before saying, “Later,” in a husky voice and leaving.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THEY BARELY MADE it upstairs to his bed.

  Once Noah, still sitting at the table after dinner, had pulled Cait down on his lap and gotten his hands under the petal-pink blazer, then beneath the thin, silky top, he’d been done for. The way she moaned and arched when he sucked her breast right through her bra, he doubted she’d have objected if he had unzipped and put her into place right there.

  But then he’d lifted his head for a minute and seen lights across the river and realized that, there in front of the windows, they could be visible to a neighbor who happened to be out in his backyard admiring the stars or doing God knows what else.

  Or to a man who had been following her, watching for his opportunity. The reminder that someone wanted to kill her and could conceivably be out there in the darkness this minute, watching, worked like cold water dumped over his head. It restored him to a measure of sanity, enough to enable him to lift her off him and hustle her toward the stairs.

  Cait clutched her bra to her breasts—he guessed he must have unfastened it—and didn’t object to the speedy pace he set. Beside the bed, she shed her clothes at the same time as he did. Looking at that long, slim body, nipples still tight, he was hit with another realization—he hadn’t had any condoms with him downstairs. The idea of using a condom hadn’t so much as crossed his mind. And that was a mistake he had never once made, not even when he was a perpetually horny sixteen-year-old.

  Worse yet, just for a second he imagined that body swelling with pregnancy, and he hardened to the point of pain.

  He did get the damn condom on.

  They made love almost savagely. He could no longer think, could only try to get deeper, take her harder. She bit him on the shoulder as she came, and that sent him over the edge. Deaf, dumb and blind, all he could do was feel, the pleasure white-hot and the next thing to pain. He sagged on top of her, unable to so much as roll over. If Cait minded, he couldn’t tell. Her arms held him tight.

  God. He was probably crushing her. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt her breathe. It took a supreme act of will, but Noah finally managed to heave himself off that beautiful body and then gather her against him. She complied, laying a hand on the center of his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin. She wriggled until she was comfortable, then sighed.

  Noah tried to lift his head to see her. He didn’t make it more than an inch off the pillow. Couldn’t have seen her face anyway.

  “Was that a happy sound or a miserable one?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Umm...” She didn’t sound any more together than he felt. “Contented.”

  “Good.” Although he’d have preferred ecstatic. Contented sounded...bland. Nothing about what they had just done was bland, not in his book.

  They lay in silence for a long time, him aware of her scent, her breath stirring his skin, of the fact that otherwise she wasn’t moving at all. He didn’t think she was sinking toward sleep, though. He thought she was as aware as he was.

  “I su
ppose I should get dressed,” she said eventually, and he knew he’d been right.

  “What’s your hurry?”

  A jerk signified a shrug.

  The strength of his annoyance took him by surprise. “I like having you here,” he murmured.

  “But not for the night.”

  Yeah, he wanted her all night. Every night. And that was the part that scared the shit out of him.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, you did.” She began to carefully separate herself from him. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I just don’t want Colin to have to wait up for me. He does, you know.”

  He rolled his head to see the digital clock. 8:43. “It’s not late.”

  Sitting up now, she had her back to him. A long, slim back, the vertebrae delicate. Despite her height, all of her was delicate, a fact he forgot sometimes given the strength of her personality.

  “It was a nice evening. Turns out you can cook,” she teased.

  He folded an arm to prop his head higher. The annoyance had ratcheted into something more indefinable and worrisome. Trying to keep any hint of whatever that was out of his voice, he said, “What did you think, I eat nothing that doesn’t come from the freezer case?”

  She twisted to see him. “You said you’d never cooked at Chandler’s.”

  “I’m not creative. I’m capable,” he said shortly.

  “You’re mad at me.”

  “No, I’m not.” Yes, he was.

  “Because I suggested going home.”

  “It’s men who have the reputation for getting what they want and immediately having the itch to cut out.”

  Her eyes, wide, curious but also guarded, searched his for a moment that had his skin prickling. “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter.” He sat up and put his feet on the floor. “You want to go home—you can go home.” Not looking at her, he found his clothes on the floor mixed with hers. He tossed her stuff toward her while getting dressed himself.

  After a minute, she did the same.

  “It was a nice evening,” she repeated after a minute, in a small voice. “I mean that.”

  He felt like a jackass. He rolled his shoulders, closed his eyes for a minute, then sat on the bed next to her. “Yes, it was. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “You send mixed messages, you know.”

  He half smiled. “So do you.”

  “That’s because—” Alarm on her face, she stopped.

  She’d been on the verge of real honesty, he gathered. As in, saying something like, That’s because I have mixed feelings.

  As did he.

  I’m afraid I’m in love with you. And I don’t want to be.

  Feeling like this could change everything.

  He looped an arm around her, relieved when she leaned into him and pressed her cheek to his chest. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “We have plenty of time. The threat to you has us both edgy. It can’t help spilling over.”

  She didn’t say anything. Then her head bobbed. “You’re right. In fact, earlier I was thinking—” Once again she stopped, but not as abruptly this time, more as if not sure how to say whatever this was.

  “Thinking?”

  “It probably isn’t important at all, but I said something to Jerry.” She tipped her head back to see him. “You know, Hegland?”

  “I knew who you meant.” He was getting a very bad feeling. “We’re dressed. Let’s go downstairs and have a cup of coffee or tea if you’d rather, and a slice of the key lime pie I bought at the bakery today. You can tell me what you said and why it’s worrying you.”

  She nodded, forgetting her hurry to get back to her brother’s.

  She wanted tea, so he put the kettle on while she cut and dished up the pie. He cleared the table quickly, piling their dirty dinner dishes on the counter. Then they sat down and looked at each other.

  “It was something I remembered. I didn’t even know I did. It just...popped out from nowhere.”

  It. She was circling the point, and he couldn’t help wondering why.

  “Start at the beginning,” he suggested. “You said, ‘Jerry, how are you?’”

  Cait wrinkled her nose. “Actually, I think I said, ‘You?’”

  Noah chuckled. “Then you said, ‘How are you?’”

  “No-o.” She drew out the word. “I said, ‘Jerry, right?’ and he said he was surprised I recognized him. I think I introduced Nell. I don’t know if I told you I was having lunch with her,” she added as an aside. She frowned. “In fact, this was right after you called to offer me the job. She and I were just finishing lunch.”

  He nodded, reining in his chronic impatience.

  “Anyway, looking at him, I had this sudden memory. He’d bought a house only a couple of blocks from ours. Not to live in—it was going to be a rental. He showed it to Mom one time when I was with them. Totally bored, of course,” she added. “But later I went past it a lot. I liked to get out of the house, so I’d ride my bike. Mornings, sometimes.” She gave him a quick glance. “You know my dad owned a tavern?”

  Noah nodded.

  “If he had to get up early for some reason, he was always really mad. Because he’d been up late, and I suppose he was hungover, too. All I knew was that I didn’t like being around him. So if I could sneak out without him noticing, I did.”

  Noah remembered her describing her home life as unhappy. Was slipping out of the house an alternative to having to hide in her bedroom to avoid her father’s fists? Had Dad yelled when he was mad, or expressed that anger physically on the nearest family member? If she’d spent a lot of time trying to pass unnoticed, how had she ended up the confident woman she was?

  Picturing her as a big-eyed, skinny, quiet kid, Noah had to wrench his attention back to her when she continued her story.

  “So one morning I’d sneaked out really early. I was biking by the rental when I heard voices from the backyard. It was fenced, but next to it was a weedy vacant lot, so I sneaked in and found a crack between slats big enough I could see what they were doing. I was just curious. It was something to do.” Faint creases appeared on her forehead. The teakettle was whistling and she hadn’t noticed. Dread gripping him, Noah didn’t move, either.

  “For a while I couldn’t figure it out, because there was string and boards laid out in a square, and inside those Jerry and another man seemed to be filling in a deep hole in the ground. I mean, there was this gigantic pile of dirt, and they were both sweating, and they seemed to be squabbling. You know, snapping at each other.”

  Her head finally turned. “Oh! The water.”

  The hell with the water. But he pushed back from the table. “I’ll get it.”

  She waited while he poured and carried the two mugs back to the table, where their pie still sat untouched. He set one mug in front of her and carried the other to his side of the table.

  Cait spooned sugar into hers and stirred for a moment, head bent. Then she looked at him again, and he saw her worry.

  “I finally decided they were leveling the ground. Which they were. Because eventually a cement truck arrived and I got to watch a patio being poured. It was totally fascinating. At least, I thought so. After the truck left, Jerry and the other man smoothed the concrete and then finally they left. I saw Jerry’s pickup driving away, but I was sort of hunkered down behind a shrub and I could tell they didn’t see me. I liked to hide, so I guess I was going on instinct.” She looked down into her tea. “This was a Saturday or a Sunday—I don’t remember. I think I went home for breakfast, and I don’t know what else, but eventually I gave in to temptation and I went back, let myself in through the gate and picked this place on the corner and pressed my hands into that wet concrete.”

  “You left
handprints,” he said slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “Which they would have found later.”

  Cait nodded, her gaze never leaving his.

  “But they’d have had no idea who left them.”

  This time she shook her head.

  “And what is it you said, Cait? When you ran into Jerry?”

  “I said, ‘I’ll bet you remember me best for the handprints I left in your concrete.’ Or something like that.”

  “Goddamn, Cait.”

  “It was the hole, wasn’t it?” she said miserably.

  “The handprints must have scared the shit out of them. Maybe a kid had come on the wet concrete long after it was poured, but more likely this kid at least saw the truck pouring it. What must have really made them sweat was wondering how early the kid started watching. How much did he or she actually see?”

  “It wasn’t more than, I don’t know, two or three weeks later that Mom took me away from Angel Butte.”

  “And Jerry and his buddy probably spent months worrying. But eventually, when nothing happened, they’d have quit worrying.”

  “Until I opened my mouth,” she whispered.

  He held out a hand. “Come here.”

  She came. This time, making love wasn’t on his mind. Holding her tight, keeping her safe, was.

  “You know you need to tell Lieutenant Vahalik, don’t you?”

  She shook her head. “Colin. I need to tell Colin first.”

  * * *

  NOAH DROVE HER home, parked and came in with her as though his doing so was a given. Cait knew she ought to protest. Did he think she was incapable of telling Colin the story herself? Did he believe she’d leave parts out if he wasn’t there to keep her honest? Or was he only taking charge, the way he always did?

  But she didn’t mind as much as she should. She doubted he was in love with her or anything like that, but he cared, and right now, she needed to know someone did.