Watching Whitney

by Jerri Drennen

  “Yes, thanks.” Steve handed her his glass.

  When she handed it back, he took a long drink.

  He needed to get his act together or he might as well call in the FBI. The woman in the lake deserved justice and if he didn’t intend to get that for her, he needed to find someone who would.

  Chapter Nine

  Whitney covered her daughter with the quilt on the bed and kissed her goodnight. She felt exhausted after the long evening with the Wilson’s.

  She glanced over at the sofa where Steve sat unlacing his boots. He’d been acting strange all night — as if something were bothering him. She didn’t know if she should ask if he wanted to talk. Probably not.

  You need to mind your own business, Whitney. What he’s thinking is none of your concern.

  “You okay?” he asked, looking up at her.

  “I was wondering the same about you?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “At the Wilsons’ you seemed distracted. I sensed something must have been bothering you.”

  “No, I’m fine.” He smiled, and then looked away.

  He’d just lied to her, but why? Something was wrong that he didn’t want her to know about. Whitney sure as heck would like to know what.

  “You say you’re here on vacation, but you don’t seem too thrilled about Marble. Why come to the wilderness if it isn’t your thing.”

  He pulled off one of his boots. “I needed some peace and quiet. Marble seemed to fit the bill.”

  “But you hadn’t planned to run across a dead body or have to put up with me and my daughter.”

  He worked off the other boot. “No, I hadn’t.”

  “So why do it?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Again, what do you mean?”

  “Why are you letting us stay, Steve? You seem uncomfortable with the situation. Why not just ask us to go?”

  He stared at her. “I guess I don’t want you or Kylie to get hurt.”

  “And you think that’s what’s going to happen if I go home?”

  He scratched his head. “I don’t know, Whitney. But I’m of the mindset that it’s better to err on the side of caution. If you’d rather stay somewhere else, I could see about making other arrangements.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t feel as if I’m your responsibility.”

  He continued to stare at her, then at her child lying on the bed. “I can’t help myself. It’s in my nature to want to protect people, especially single mothers. My own mom raised me alone.”

  Whitney was taken aback by the revelation. It wasn’t quite as commonplace back then.

  “So, where’s your father?”

  Steve shrugged. “I have no idea. He left before I was born.”

  She couldn’t believe that his life paralleled Kylie’s.

  “What about your mom?”

  The light in his eyes faded. “She died a few years back.”

  “I’m sorry.” Whitney hoped that mentioning her hadn’t brought back the loss.

  “Let’s talk about you. Where are your parents?”

  “They live in Florida. They wanted me to move with them a few years back, but I like it here. City life isn’t for me.”

  Steve smiled and Whitney’s stomach tightened. He had the most amazing face. When he smiled, it only made him more handsome.

  “How do you like living in Denver?” If she didn’t keep her mind focused, it was going to drift where it shouldn’t again.

  “It’s hectic. I work the homicide division there, and let’s just say it keeps me on my toes.”

  He worked homicide? That meant he investigated murders. How could he do that day in and day out? Just the idea of the woman in the lake sent a cold blast of dread racing across her skin.

  “You want to know how I deal with death on a daily basis, right?”

  “How do you keep from going insane?” She grimaced. “I mean, I would.”

  “Most people would, Whitney, and I have my days when I think maybe transferring to another department would be better for my peace of mind. Then I think someone has to do it. Might as well be me until I can’t any longer. The division has a high turnover rate. No one can take the job for long.”

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Probably longer than I should have.” His admission sent her heart into her chest. Steve Morgan had a vulnerable side to him that he obviously didn’t show many people, but he’d given at least a glimpse of it to her. Did that mean something? Maybe she was reading too much into his actions.

  “This might be a good time to tell you I have to work tomorrow.”

  “At the restaurant or cleaning cabins?”

  “Cleaning cabins. I need to call Bethany and ask if she’ll watch Kylie.” Whitney padded to the kitchen table, opened her purse, and rifled inside for her cell phone. She flipped it open and frowned. She had one unread message.

  Whitney pressed the button to read the text. Her heart slammed hard against her chest as she did. She swallowed hard and looked at Steve who stood immediately.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Whitney held the phone out to him and waited for him to take it. Why would someone text her such nastiness?

  “Have you ever gotten anything like this before? How about the number? Do you recognize it?”

  When Whitney didn’t answer, he released a frustrated breath. “Whitney?”

  “No, never, and no, I don’t recognize the number.” Tears filled her eyes and she sucked in a ragged breath. Was the text from the man who broke into her home? If so, now she knew what his intentions were.

  A sob tore from the back of her throat.

  Steve reached out and pulled her into his arms and patted her back as she cried. Would she ever feel safe again after everything that had happened? Had Marble become as dangerous a place as a big city? Wasn’t that the charm of living in a small town — the safety aspect? Now how was she going to go to bed at night without wondering who could be lurking outside the door.

  “It’s okay, Whitney. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Steve whispered in her ear.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. She did feel safe with him — the first man she could say that about in a long time.

  Seconds ticked by as his warm breath tickled her ear and send a wonderful sensation shooting down to her toes. Her fear turned to an awareness of his body. Whitney felt his heart pounding against her chest. She glanced up and their eyes met, his gaze now as turbulent as a storm cloud. She wasn’t blind — she knew desire, and he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  His lips came down hard on hers and a blazing heat ignited in her belly. Whitney threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he moaned against her mouth. He tightened his hold on her, adding to the incredible pleasure.

  Whitney’s trembling hands left his neck and worked their way down his chest, his pecs jumping under her touch. Every band of muscle felt like steel against her palms.

  With a need to feel his skin next to hers, Whitney worked his shirt buttons free, her fingers twining through the soft, springy chest hairs, and for some reason that made Steve more manly and desirable to her.

  When the last button gave way, she spread the flannel aside and sighed, admiring his chiseled pecs and washboard stomach sprinkled with light blond hairs that traveled down into his jeans. She’d never seen a man so perfect in her life.

  His lips slowly worked down her neck while his hands moved up to cup her breasts. Whitney threw her head back and reveled in his touch, her nipples hardening against his firm palms.

  “Jesus, Whitney,” he rasped against her ear.

  Whitney turned and kissed him with everything she had, wanting to shut out everything but what she experienced at tha
t moment. No man had ever made her feel so alive and so passionate, wanting to do things that she’d never done before.

  But she couldn’t. Not here. Kylie was in the room. She had to stop before they couldn’t.

  Whitney tore her mouth from his and moved out of his arms.

  “I’m sorry, Whitney. I shouldn’t have — ”

  “No, it was my fault. You were trying to comfort me. We just got carried away, that’s all.” Whitney stepped around him and walked over to retrieve her bag from the floor. She needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day and she had to try to rest — though how she’d do that after their heated exchange would be a task in itself.

  • • •

  Whitney walked into the bathroom and Steve cursed under his breath. He shifted his stance, the erection he’d retained almost too much to bear. The organ couldn’t have worked any better if he’d have taken a handful of Viagra.

  He needed to cool off and think. Whitney McAllister had become too much of a distraction to him. He wanted her more than he wanted air to breathe, and that wasn’t good. He had to somehow work past the obsession. The two weren’t right for each other. She wanted things he never would. But he couldn’t just pawn her onto someone else. Especially after the text she’d gotten — graphic smut detailing what the guy planned to do to her when he got her alone.

  Nope. Steve couldn’t let anything happen to Whitney. She had become his responsibility and he intended to keep her safe no matter what.

  He headed for the door. He’d take a walk out onto the porch and cool off. He needed to call Flint anyway and see if he couldn’t run a check on the number the text came from. To find out who the pervert was. When they did, Steve intended to tear him limb from limb, but not before he extracted his DNA to see if it matched the strand found under the dead woman’s nails. In his gut, Steve knew whoever broke into Whitney’s house had killed the victim in the lake and he intended to find out who the murderer was if it took a month of Sunday’s to do it.

  Outside the cabin, he pulled his cell phone from his belt and punched in Flint’s number. His cousin answered on the third ring. “Flint?”

  “That’s me. I was about to call you. We found a match on that DNA, but I can’t tell you whose. Only that it matched a sample found on a dead woman from Idaho nine years ago.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. I had them run it twice.”

  “Do you have any information on the dead woman? Who she was? What she looked like?”

  “Her file is sitting right in front of me. She was in her mid-twenties and a single mother of a little girl.”

  Steve’s chest tightened. He needed to go back to Doc Leland’s. Find out if the victim had had a child.

  “What did she look like?”

  “You know, she looked a little bit like that gal at the café the other day. You know, the one who gave us the dirty look.”

  The tightening in his chest threatened to cut off Steve’s air. They had a possible serial killer on their hands and he knew with certainty Whitney was the man’s next target.

  “Thanks, Flint. This has helped a lot. I need you to do one more thing for me. Could you trace a number?”

  “Sure. What’s it for?”

  “A threatening message one of the locals received. I want to know who was on the other end of the text.” Steve gave Flint the number and had just said goodbye when the cabin’s door opened.

  Whitney peeked out. “What are you doing?”

  “I had to make a call. I didn’t want to wake Kylie.”

  Steve walked back inside the door. “We’d better get some sleep. Oh and be forewarned, I’ll be following you around tomorrow. For no reason are you to be left alone. Understand?”

  Chapter Ten

  Whitney looked over her shoulder and felt her body stir. “Do you have to stand so close?”

  Steve didn’t say a word, yet stepped back and turned to look out the cabin’s window.

  Good. He drove her crazy and the worst part: her body loved every minute of it.

  Whitney finished wiping out the sink and then reached for the mop. All she had left to do was clean the floor and she’d be finished for the day.

  She glanced at her watch. She’d managed to complete all five bungalows in record time. Bethany would be surprised when she returned for Kylie over an hour early.

  Whitney squeezed out the mop and swished it across the wooden floor. Steve had made it easy for her to stay busy, though she’d felt his eyes on her a time or two. But mainly her work had been done with little or no interference from him. He’d actually helped with a few of her tasks.

  She glanced up to find him watching her again. Her stomach did a double twist.

  How would she ever get through another night with him without anything happening? Her body had started to crave something — his. At least thinking about Steve had kept her from analyzing the text she’d gotten last night. Whoever had written the note was sick and sadistic and made her skin crawl:

  You’re going to wish you were dead.

  Why would anyone say such a thing to her?

  Whitney forced the frightening message from her thoughts and finished the floor. Then she picked up the bucket and cleaning supplies and headed for the front door. Steve followed directly on her heels.

  Outside the cabin, she dumped the dirty water and placed the mop back inside. She took her key and locked the door and turned to look at him. “That’s it. I need to drop my supplies off at the rec center and then we can go get Kylie at Bethany’s.”

  “Okay, but I need to stop by the cabin first.”

  “All right.”

  They walked down the row of bungalows to number four, and Steve unlocked the door and allowed her to enter first once she put her supplies down. He followed her inside and closed the door behind them.

  He headed for the bathroom and came back a moment later.

  “You okay?” Whitney wondered if he’d gone in to get one of his painkillers.

  “I’m fine. I forgot my cell phone in there this morning.”

  He flipped it open and frowned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head. “I was expecting a call, that’s all.”

  Whitney glanced around the cabin and felt the walls close in on her. She and Steve were alone, in a picturesque location with the birds happily singing outside — like a scene out of a romantic movie, except this wasn’t a chick flick. It was real life. Her life.

  She glanced at him through hooded lashes and took in a rush of air. Intense heat raced across her body and pooled in her womb. Whitney had never wanted anything as much as she wanted Steve Morgan in her arms, him buried deep inside her, driving her to the brink of orgasm.

  He opened his arms and she moved into them, his mouth finding hers in a fiery kiss that left Whitney weak at the knees.

  She tore at his shirt, buttons flying in her need to get to his naked flesh. Her fingers worked through the coarse hairs between his collarbones, nesting in the hollow as she allowed his tongue into her mouth.

  She groaned and slid her arms around his neck and drew him closer, her nipples drawing up tight against his chest.

  He scooted her back to the bed and eased her down slowly, then covered her body with his, his lips sliding down her neck in an invasion of warm kisses to the V of her T-shirt. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples with purpose.

  Whitney whimpered under the assault, kneading his chest with her fingertips, wanting to touch every inch of his body. Her hands skimmed down his stomach and found his belt. She quickly freed the buckle, and then worked at the button and fly. She was momentarily sidetracked when he yanked forcefully at her shirt in an attempt to rip it from her body. “I’ll get it,” she said in a voice she hardly recognized.
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  Steve rolled to her side and she peeled the shirt from her upper body, then unclasped her bra and let it slide over her shoulders. He stared, his eyes turning to raw pewter. He brushed his hand across one of her breasts and Whitney moaned with pleasure.

  His head dipped to suckle her nipple. Whitney fell against the pillow and reveled in the magic he weaved over her. He moved onto the other breast, giving it the same loving attention as heat coursed between her legs. Whitney wanted more. She needed to feel him inside her.

  She unhooked her jeans and pried them down her hips.

  In her struggles to remove them, Steve stopped what he was doing and looked up. He grinned. “Let me help,” he said as he pulled the jeans down over her lean thighs and tossed them behind him. While she slid from her panties, he removed his jeans. Now all that stood between them was a pair of gray boxers.

  “Do you have something?” she asked, praying he’d have a condom handy. He reached down into his pants and pulled out his wallet, extracting a foil wrapper from inside.

  Whitney sighed, and then smiled.

  Steve half covered her with his body and kissed her hard, his hands sliding between her legs, resting at the nest of curls. He spread her lips and dipped his finger into her wet heat and groaned with pleasure against her mouth.

  Whitney cupped his ass with her hands, kneading the taut muscles, and then worked them under the waistband of his boxers. He helped skim the boxers off and quickly opened the condom package and rolled it on. He positioned himself between her thighs, and then with a force that took her breath, drove into her.

  She never dreamed anything could be so incredible, so overwhelming to her senses. He started to move and everything around her disappeared except for him filling her, giving and taking until her body arched to meet his and coiled tight as her orgasm tore a muffed scream from the back of her throat. Her body contracted around him until he dropped on top of her with his own release — so powerful she could feel its force inside her.

  Whitney refused to move, afraid that what she’d just experienced had been nothing more than a wonderful dream she’d wake from. Never in her twenty-four years had she ever experienced anything so intense. Even now, her body hummed with total fulfillment and didn’t want the sensation to end — not ever.