HOT ON HIS TRAIL

by Linda Winstead Jones

  "I see quite clearly," she whispered. "And what I see is very, very real."

  She got up on her knees, leaned over and kissed him. It was an easy kiss, and she was relieved that Nick didn't jump to his feet or turn his head away from her. He kissed her back.

  Their entire relationship, short and intense as it was, had been colored by the knowledge that they didn't have much time. A day more, maybe. A night, if they were lucky. But it didn't make what she felt any less real.

  She caught sight of the police car out of the corner of her eye, as it passed slowly by. Instinctively she grabbed on to Nick's T-shirt and pulled him to the floor, where he landed out of sight from the street and heavily atop her.

  She licked her lips, shifted slightly until he rested between her legs, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Coppers," she whispered.

  There was a moment of quiet stillness, and then Nick lowered his head slowly, taking his time as he latched his mouth to hers, cupped her head in his hands and kissed her. This was no quick kiss, but continued on unrelenting, growing gradually deeper, until her knees were weak and her heart pounded against his chest.

  She had wanted, more than anything, for Nick to kiss her, but she had never expected the kiss would grow so fierce. Quickly, surely, it burned out of control. For her and for Nick. She felt his passion as if it were hers. She breathed it in and absorbed it through her pores and her tongue.

  He lowered his mouth to her neck and nuzzled there, slowing down as he slipped his hand beneath her T-shirt and settled it possessively at her side. His movements were undemanding, gentle, slow as molasses.

  "I don't know what's real anymore," he whispered.

  "This is real," she said, threading her fingers through his hair and holding on tight. "What we feel right now is very real."

  Sun slanted through the partially open blinds, striping the floor and their bodies. The noises of summer—children playing and laughing, the distinct sound of a water hose running, the water splashing—were distant and comforting.

  And Shea didn't want to let Nick go. Heaven help her, she couldn't.

  "You make me crazy," he whispered.

  "Good."

  Nick kissed her again, barely sliding his tongue into her mouth, his hand climbing higher to cup her breast. He found his way impeded by a bra, but quickly located the front closure and flicked it open.

  A feminine instinct that had gone unexplored before she met Nick seized her. She'd never felt such power in her own body, such a strong and spontaneous need that her insides quivered. She parted her lips and her tongue met Nick's. Her back arched so she was closer against him, tighter and surer, and it was not enough.

  She untucked his T-shirt from his jeans, snaked her hand beneath to feel his hot, hard skin. To feel his chest rise and fall with every breath, to find and delight in the thud of his heartbeat beneath her hand.

  Beneath strained denim his erection pressed insistently against her bare thigh. Her body moistened in response as her thighs parted farther and she latched her mouth to his neck, holding on and pressing her body tight against his. He rocked against her, teasing and arousing her, promising her everything he had to give. While she suckled at his neck he rode her higher, and if there had been no clothing between them, keeping them apart, he would be inside her now. Her body throbbed, ached and yearned and pleaded for release.

  She lifted her hips when he began to slide her shorts down, and before he had them off she was working the snap and the zipper of his jeans. She couldn't wait a moment longer, but she didn't have the words to tell him so. Her breath wouldn't come; words would be impossible.

  While he kissed her she thrust her hands beneath his waistband and pushed his jeans over his hips. His skin, hard and warm, glided beneath her hands, and she held on, her fingers caressing his hips as he guided himself inside her.

  There was nothing gentle about the way they came together, not today. This lovemaking was hot and hard, relentless and furious. Nick's hips, still caught in her grasp, rocked in a powerful rhythm, growing faster with each thrust.

  Shea slid her hands up, over Nick's thrusting hips, up his back to his neck, and wrapped her legs around him. Drawing him close, she urged him deeper, thrust against him, and shattered. She cried out as he held himself deep inside her and came with her. Their linked bodies shuddered, their heat and the sounds of their throaty cries filled the air around them.

  When it was over, when the longing that had brought them together so quickly and pleasurably had faded, she took Nick's face in her hands and kissed him. Softly this time, without demand. It was a kiss that said "I love you" much more clearly than she could ever say the words.

  "In my entire life, I've never known anything more real than that," she whispered.

  He didn't try to leave, and she didn't drop her legs from his hips to let him go. She liked it here, with Nick a part of her, her heart beating too fast, her legs trembling still.

  Nick kissed her back, and while he might not realize it yet, his kiss said "I love you," too.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  « ^ »

  His instinct was to drag each and every suspect into the street and force the truth from the guilty party. While that method might momentarily satisfy his rage, it wouldn't be successful. Whoever the real killer was had played it cool so far. That wasn't likely to change just because he demanded it.

  He sat on the floor before the window, watching as the sun went down and the lights came on. Seated behind him and slightly to the side, Shea leaned into his back and arm and watched with him.

  "It looks like everything you wanted," she whispered.

  "What?"

  "The nice houses, the kids." She lifted a shapely arm and pointed. "Mrs. Casson even has a porch swing."

  Nick grabbed her arm and kissed the sensitive skin at her inner elbow, and she answered with a soft laugh and a contented sigh.

  He'd never lost control with a woman before, not the way he had this afternoon with Shea. It was the situation, he reasoned, that made every moment with her seem so precious. It was knowing he might not have much time left that made him so damned impatient to touch her, to be inside her.

  He wouldn't fight it anymore. Until this was over, Shea was his. He would sleep with her in the bed in this room; he would take and give whatever he could. This was his dream, but he hadn't known it until he met Shea, because he had never dreamed he could feel this way about anyone. It didn't matter where they were, what they had … only that she was here.

  If he had the luxury, he might call it love.

  Shea draped her arms around his neck and peered over his shoulder to the street below. "I have an idea," she whispered.

  In spite of himself, he smiled.

  "If Norman and Lauren are really on the up and up, then they can help."

  Not the kind of idea he had in mind, at the moment. "We can trust them."

  "Then I think they should throw a neighborhood barbecue tomorrow night, and invite everyone at this end of the cul-de-sac. Everyone who was at your party that night."

  A warning shiver snaked through his body. "And I show up as a surprise guest?"

  "No," she said quickly. "We find you a safe place to watch." She kissed his neck. "I'll be the surprise guest. Tomorrow, during the day, I'll visit everyone in the neighborhood and interview them. I can tell them it's a preinterview for a show I'm planning."

  "No," he said lowly.

  "Then I'll show up at Norman's barbecue and tell them all I know who really killed Gary Winkler."

  "No," Nick said, more forcefully this time, taking her arm and pulling her into his lap. "You're talking about trapping a murderer, Shea. Someone who has killed and will likely kill again to cover what they did."

  "I know." She kissed him briefly on the lips.

  "I can't allow you—"

  She grinned and interrupted. "Allow me?"

  God, she was stubborn! He took her chin in his hand and glared at her. "I don't wan
t you hurt."

  "I won't be hurt," she whispered.

  She would be, and so would he. They couldn't stay together when this was over, couldn't pretend that what they felt was anything lasting. But right now he wanted this to last. He wanted Shea in his life permanently.

  He had a feeling that as soon as this crime was solved and the excitement was over, she'd be bored with him and move on to another story. Another injustice.

  "If you go inside these people's houses to interrogate them—"

  "Interview," she corrected, raising her eyebrows.

  "Interview," he repeated. "I'll be there. You go in the front door and I'll go in the back. You interview them and I'll listen and make sure everything's okay. Maybe I'll even poke around a little while I listen."

  "That sounds risky."

  "Interrogating a murderer isn't?"

  She rested her head on his shoulder. "All right. I'll lend you my credit card, in case you run into a locked door here and there."

  He held her tight, and when he caught sight of the police car driving by he dropped to the floor with her in his arms.

  Shea laid her head against his chest. "We'll start first thing in the morning," she said.

  That meant they had tonight.

  * * *

  The blinds were closed tight, the house was cool and dark and Shea couldn't sleep. Her mind was spinning. Tomorrow. Everything would happen tomorrow. One of Nick's neighbors was a killer, and come tomorrow she was going to find herself face-to-face with him. Or her.

  Her plan had been put into motion. She'd called Mark, as promised, knowing that if her brothers bothered to check with the cell phone company they'd only be able to tell that the call came from this area. And it was a very big area. Dean might have access to equipment that could trace her to a specific location if she stayed on her phone long enough, but he was too straight-arrow to use it to track his sister when he knew she'd left his "protection" on her own. It wasn't like she'd been kidnapped again.

  Come tomorrow morning, Mark would call Boone with the news that he'd heard from Shea, who was heading to Montana by bus to find and interview Nick Taggert. They'd believe it, too, and while she was interviewing the residents of Teakwood Court, she wouldn't have to keep looking over her shoulder for those three familiar heads of dark hair.

  Mostly she thought about Nick. He had become so important to her so quickly that her newfound feelings scared her. She loved him. What else could make her heart beat this way? Why else would she be so incensed over every injustice he'd ever suffered? She wanted to fix his life, and then she wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to make all his dreams come true.

  She listened as he came in the back door, locked it behind him and stepped carefully through the kitchen to the foyer and the stairs. At the foot of the steps he hesitated, and she held her breath. What if he didn't come to her? What if he decided he should sleep on the couch or keep watch all night? No matter what happened tomorrow, this might very well be their last night together.

  Finally he began to climb the stairs, and when he reached the second floor he turned toward the room where she waited. Her eyes were trained on the doorway when he appeared there.

  "What did he say?" she whispered.

  "He said yes. They're going to contact everyone tomorrow and say they're throwing an impromptu engagement party."

  "Do you think everyone will come?"

  Nick shrugged his shoulders and walked into the room. The blinds were closed, but they couldn't risk a lamp or even a candle. She was getting accustomed to watching Nick in nothing but dark shadows.

  He barely limped anymore, and as he undressed she felt a rush of relief that the bullet had only creased his flesh. That wound, and the resulting blood loss, had been bad enough. If the bullet had gone through muscle he would have dropped right there in the courthouse and wouldn't have been able to walk for weeks.

  Everything would've turned out differently if that had happened, if the deputy's aim had been a little better. Nick would've been taken immediately into custody, he would've been sentenced a few days later and no one would ever know that he was innocent.

  Naked, as she was, he climbed into bed with her, slipping beneath the comforter and taking her in his arms. Their bodies came together easily, beautifully, and neither of them said a word as they settled into and against one another. Nick knew, as well as she did, that tomorrow everything would change.

  So they held one another tightly, bodies close, legs entangled, hearts pressed together and beating fast and hard. Shea buried her nose in his neck and took a deep breath. Heavens, she loved the way he smelled. The scent of his skin was comforting and arousing, and she was terrified that after tonight she'd never have this luxury again.

  They hadn't used any kind of protection this afternoon. Things had spun out of control so quickly that by the time she'd thought about the single remaining condom in her duffel bag it had been too late. She had no regrets. She loved Nick and she wanted all of him.

  There was a touch of desperation between them, but neither of them mentioned that this might be their last night together. That come tomorrow, if their plan was unsuccessful, Nick might have to go on the run again. The thought made Shea panic, until she made a momentous and calming decision. She was not giving him up. This was not their last night together.

  That decision made, she relaxed and melted in his arms. Nick kissed her, softly and sweetly. He touched her and trailed his mouth down her body. Licking and kissing and nibbling, he made his way to her breasts and took a nipple deep into his mouth. Shea pushed the comforter down. In spite of the air-conditioning and the cool night air, she was hot, her skin and Nick's generating their own heat. She kicked the comforter to the foot of the bed, and a moment later Nick kicked it onto the floor.

  They spread across the big bed, arms and legs together and then apart, mouths tasting and exploring.

  This afternoon they'd come together impatiently, but tonight was different. They had all night, and some things should not be rushed.

  "Nick?" she whispered.

  He hummed a disinterested response.

  "Up there on the mountain, when you fired that shot at me…" She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Would you really have shot me if I'd kept running?"

  "No," he said quickly, without hesitating. "I could never hurt you."

  "I knew it," she whispered with a smile as he turned his attention to her neck.

  Shea tried not to think about tomorrow, tried not to think about what would happen when this was over, but tomorrow was on her mind. The only way to remedy that problem was to make the confession that would change everything.

  She rolled over, pushing Nick onto his back and holding her face close to his. She kissed him, softly, then again with the fierce hunger she felt.

  Holding his face in her hands, she barely touched her nose to his. "I love you," she whispered.

  "Don't." The single word was harsh, but the hand that settled in her hair was tender. Gentle and loving.

  And she didn't let that word deter her. "If we find the murderer tomorrow and you're cleared, then everything will be fine. If we don't and you have to run again, I want to run with you."

  "No," he whispered.

  "I would rather live my life on the run with you than live it anywhere else without you." Heaven help her, it was the truth. She would give up everything to be with this man forever. Living without him would be sheer misery.

  Nick didn't bother to argue with her again. He rolled her onto her back, spread her thighs and continued his most thorough exploration.

  Her confession made, Shea's mind cleared, and for now—for now there was only this. Nick's wide bed and her love for him and the way they touched.

  And touched. Nick kissed her in places she'd never been kissed before. He trailed his fingers over every inch of her body. She touched him, as well, following his lead and being bold. Fearless. Smiling softly when he shivered or took a sudden deep breath. Glad to know that sh
e could arouse him with something so simple as a well-placed kiss or a gentle caress.

  Her body was alive, her mind was foggy, her heart was full. And they all belonged to Nick.

  He trailed kisses from the valley of her breasts down her torso, his hands beneath her hips, his mouth moving unerringly downward. He paused at her belly button, circling his tongue around it, then below it.

  When he placed his mouth on her intimately, she gasped in shock at the sensation. His fingers caressed her inner thighs as he aroused her with his tongue. He found the nub at her entrance and teased her, hard and then gentle, fast and then slow. He tormented her, moving away when she was close to completion, returning a moment later to begin again.

  When his fingers joined his tongue she climaxed quickly, coming off the mattress and crying out hoarsely as he brought her to an intense climax.

  She was still breathless when he raised his head and kissed her inner thigh, the skin beneath her belly button. Then he wrapped his arms around her and slid slowly upward.

  Shea trembled; he felt her response. Absorbed it. And did not stop. Her words, I love you, echoed in his ears. No matter how he tried to forget what she'd said, no matter how he tried to convince himself that what she felt wasn't real, still he heard the words.

  "Nick," she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair, arching her back when he took a nipple into his mouth and gently suckled before resting his head on her shoulder.

  She wasn't content to lie there for long, breathless and satisfied. Her hands skimmed down his sides, and she slithered beneath him, bringing her mouth to his neck, sucking and kissing and licking. Moaning and writhing beneath him.

  She reached for him, and he grabbed her wrist. If she touched him he was lost. If she stroked those soft hands on his length once, he would lose control.

  His erection, hard and long past ready, touched her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close, into her slick wetness, and he closed his eyes as he plunged deep. She stretched and grasped him, took him inside her body and met him, stroke for stroke. He felt and savored her fiery response, which came as quickly and undeniably as his own. She held on, took quick, shallow breaths and arched into him.