From the Shadows

by Rebecca York

  When he dragged his mouth away from hers, she made a sharp sound of protest.

  “Not here,” he whispered.

  She blinked, looked around as though she’d just remembered where they were.

  Drawing away from him, she smoothed her hair. He wondered if she regretted melting into his arms. He wondered what she would say if he brought up the subject of the park. Not a few minutes ago. But eleven years ago.

  They had personal business to discuss. But none of it was as urgent as Billy and his partners.

  “We have to talk, but this isn’t a good place. Not when those guys could call their buddies.”

  “Where should we go?”

  “Your house isn’t safe.” He thought about the recent incidents with the press. “Neither is mine, because I can’t step out the door without tripping over a reporter.”

  “Oh Lord, Alex, I’m sorry.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, thinking.

  “My friend Wendy’s apartment,” she said. “We can go there.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “In one of those new condos down by the water.”

  He considered the suggestion, not loving the location. It was smack in the middle of town, which meant too many people were around. “How far is the walk from the car to the door?”

  “She’s right on the parking lot.”

  So they could get inside quickly. “Okay.”

  He drove back into St. Stephens, paying as much attention to the rearview mirror as the road ahead of him.

  “Which apartment?” he asked as he approached the condos.

  “Her number is 752. It’s around back.”

  He followed her directions, still watching the other traffic and making sure that nobody was paying them any particular attention. Satisfied, he pulled into a space a couple of dozen feet from the building’s entrance.

  Nobody was walking in the immediate area when he stepped quickly out of the SUV and escorted Sara into the stairwell. He was glad to see the apartment was on the second floor. At least the bad guys wouldn’t be coming in the sliding glass door.

  She inserted the key in the lock, and they stepped into a large, comfortable-looking room. An overstuffed plum-colored velvet sofa and chairs were set off by antique cabinet pieces—a sideboard, an armoire. Tall plants were grouped near a sliding glass door that led to a narrow balcony.

  But the thing he noticed most was that he was now alone with Sara.

  She set down her purse on one of the chairs. When she turned back to him, he could feel the sudden tension radiating from her and feel his own tension. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he said quickly.

  She didn’t quite meet his eyes as she repeated what he’d pointed out earlier. “This is probably the best place to talk.”

  Talk. He’d brought her here to talk, he reminded himself as he wiped his suddenly damp palms against his pants legs.

  When he saw her follow the motion, he made an effort to sound coherent. “You said before that you were worried about your dad, so you didn’t want to get the police involved. I think we’d both be better off if we got what happened with those guys on record.”

  He saw her swallow. “Okay.”

  Just like that, she agreed.

  He pulled out the cell phone he’d shoved into his pocket and turned it in his hand. “Before I call, did you recognize either of those guys?”

  “They’re some of the men I told you about. The ones who have been following me around. And…”

  “And what?” he asked sharply.

  “I saw one of them on television in the crowd of people outside Bandy’s office after you were arrested. I thought he looked like you. Is he…related?”

  He sighed out a breath, and she tipped her head toward him.

  “Remember I told you about my family history, that my brother never left town except when he was in prison. And you thought it wasn’t relevant.”

  “That was him?” she said, not sounding surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I mean…”

  “It’s okay. I know what you mean.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “At least I know that if it’s been going on for a while, he can’t be doing it to get back at me.”

  “Get back at you? What does he have against you?”

  “I turned my life around. He couldn’t. That’s made him…hostile.” Wanting to change the subject before she asked any more questions, he said, “Maybe Hempstead has some ideas. But maybe we shouldn’t go down to the police station. Maybe it would be better if we see if he can meet us somewhere.”

  “Why?”

  “Two reasons. You said Billy and his friends were at your house. If they’re expecting you to show up downtown, they might try to head you off. And maybe it’s better if they think I’m afraid to call the police after just getting out of the slammer.”

  She answered with a tight nod, then said, “Don’t call the chief yet.”

  “Why not?”

  She gave him a questioning look. “Did you just bring me here to talk?”

  Had he?

  Maybe she saw the answer in his eyes, because she took a step toward him. “Alex,” she breathed, crossing the distance between them and reaching for him.

  He reached at the same time, folding her close.

  She let out a small sigh as she laid her head against his shoulder.

  He should step away from her, but he couldn’t make his muscles follow through on the thought.

  “Alex, when I heard you’d been arrested, I was so worried. And guilty.”

  “Guilty?” he asked, his voice raspy. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing to get you in trouble,” she said quickly. “It’s more like I started thinking about the things that have happened between us. Each meeting, and how we keep rubbing each other the wrong way. And I didn’t want it to be like that. So I decided that when you got out, I’d let you know how I was really feeling.”

  “How?”

  She lifted her head, brought her mouth to his, a small sound of need rising in her throat. He had wanted this, dreamed about it as he lay on the hard bunk in the dank confines of his jail cell because he needed to hold on to something good. Sara.

  “Alex?” she murmured against his mouth.

  In response he angled his head to claim more complete possession of her, his tongue taking wicked advantage of her parted lips.

  She tasted like a field of flowers spread across a sunlit landscape. And she said his name again, her hands sweeping across his shoulders, then sliding upward to cup the back of his head.

  But there was no need to hold him in place. Not when a forest fire of wanting had kindled itself between them—scorching his skin, burning a path through his blood.

  He couldn’t get enough of her. He needed to taste, to touch. His mouth never leaving hers, he slid his hands under her shirt, his fingers splaying across the soft skin of her back.

  Finding the catch of her bra, he slipped it open, then pushed it out of the way as he brought his hands around to her front, lifting and cupping her breasts.

  The sounds of pleasure she made were like sparks striking dry kindling. His fingers found the hardened tips of her breasts, circled them, crested over them.

  When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, they were both out of breath.

  There must be a bedroom down the hall, and he pictured himself sweeping her into his arms and carrying her there.

  But somewhere in his fevered brain, reason surfaced. He managed to say, “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not prepared to protect you.”

  She lifted her eyes toward his. “You’re still being a gentleman.”

  “Still?”

  He saw her close her eyes for just a moment before blinking them open again. “Like in the back seat of that car, when you could have taken my virginity.”

  As his brain processed her words, he went absol
utely still.

  Her eyes never left his. “Maybe it’s good I blurted it out awhile ago. We had to talk about it eventually. Alex, it’s something I’ve thought about over the years. It’s one of my best memories. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  For him, too.

  “I’ve thought about how good it was with you. And neither one of us ever took our clothes off.”

  His mouth had gone dry. “But you didn’t say anything when we saw each other again,” he managed to tell her.

  She gave a small, shaky laugh. “I couldn’t. What was I supposed to say? Hey, aren’t you the guy who could have nailed me at that beer party?”

  He gave a tight nod, seeing it from her point of view.

  “I was embarrassed. It was easier to hope you didn’t remember me.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “You didn’t mention it either.”

  “Maybe I was still being a gentleman.” That was part of it, certainly. He wasn’t going to add the rest—that he’d suspected her motives for coming into Lee Tillman’s office.

  She was speaking again. “Right. A gentleman. You could have done anything you wanted with me that night. But you stopped. Why did you stop?”

  “You were sweet and innocent, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “I’m not so sweet and innocent now. I mean—” She broke off the sentence, flushed. “Well, I’m not the most experienced woman you ever met. But I’m experienced enough to know what I want.” She held his gaze, sure and steady. “I told you I was thinking about what might happen when you got out of jail. So I dropped by the drugstore. I mean, I figured you wouldn’t be prepared so I’d better be.”

  “The drugstore where all the locals hang out?”

  She flushed again. “No. I drove to Cambridge. I didn’t want my personal business spread all over town.”

  He laughed, feeling almost light-headed as he took her hand and led her down the hall.

  The bedroom was waiting for them. Stepping inside, he set his gun on the dresser, then turned back to Sara and gathered her to him.

  “You’re shaking,” he murmured. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “You’re shaking, too.”

  “Yeah.”

  Whatever else he might have said turned into a long sigh of pleasure as she slipped her hands under his shirt and stroked them in slow sweeps across his back.

  In his mind he had played out this scene many times over the years since that night in the car. She was the one girl he’d let get away. He’d known back then that turning her loose was the right thing to do. But it hadn’t stopped him from wondering what if?

  Now the reality of holding her, touching her, kissing her was better than anything he could have imagined.

  He took a step back, pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it onto the chair. Then he began unbuttoning her shirt, removing it along with her bra.

  He saw the sudden flash of nerves in her eyes and knew that despite her earlier boldness, she wasn’t all that conversant with men and bedrooms. Somewhere in his mind he thought he should stop. But he had given up chivalry. Pulling her into his arms, he groaned at the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest, craving her on some deep elemental level, the way a thirsty man craves water.

  They swayed together, touching, kissing, sighing.

  He turned away long enough to pull down the spread and the blanket. She stepped away from him and grabbed her purse, rummaging for her drugstore purchase, which she set on the bedside table, her head bent away from him.

  He caught her in his arms again, stroking her, then shucking her shorts and panties down her legs.

  “You are so beautiful,” he breathed. “If I’d known how beautiful, you never would have gotten off so easy.”

  “I don’t want to get off easy now,” she whispered.

  “Oh, you won’t.”

  When her hands centered on his belt buckle, he went very still. His arms at his sides, he watched her as she unbuckled the belt, then started on his slacks.

  His breath caught as she lowered his zipper, then slid her hand into the opening she’d made, slid beneath the elastic band of his briefs to cup his aching erection.

  It took all his strength to say, “Don’t. Don’t go so fast.” But he said it because he wanted this to be good for her, as good as he could make it.

  Taking her down to the surface of the bed, he gathered her to him, kissed her softly, tenderly.

  When his hands found her breasts, shaping them to his touch, he gloried in her long sigh of pleasure. He followed the caress with his lips, and now he was the one who exclaimed, unable to believe that anything could feel so good in his mouth as the taut flesh of her erect nipples.

  One of her hands winnowed through his hair, holding him to her, while the other stroked restlessly over his back and shoulders.

  Tender, possessive feelings welled up in him. He knew that he had craved her touch since that long-ago time together. And he knew more—that loving her brought him a fulfillment he’d never felt in his marriage bed.

  “Alex, please,” she moaned.

  He lifted his head, rained small kisses over her face. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not until you’re as hot and needy as I am.”

  “I am—”

  He didn’t give her a chance to say more. He stopped her words with his lips on her mouth and his hand sliding into the soft feminine folds of her.

  She was slick and ready for him, her hips moving restlessly as he brought her up to the level where he wanted her.

  She clutched his shoulders, tried to lever him on top of her. But he stayed where he was, absorbed by the feel of her, by the sounds she was making for him.

  “Alex, this time I want you inside me when I come,” she gasped out.

  He wanted that, too. Had wanted it for a thousand years. “Yes,” he managed to say, then reached for the packet she’d set on the bedside table.

  When he was ready for her, he turned back, gave her a long, lingering kiss, then moved over her, stroking the hard shaft of his erection against her before cupping her hips, lifting her as he drove forward, his body staking its claim on hers.

  She called his name as he began to move within her, dug her nails into his shoulders as he quickened the pace.

  When his hand slipped between them to stroke her, he felt her inner muscles contract around him.

  He couldn’t hold back a deep growl of satisfaction as she came undone for him, triggering his own soul-shattering explosion of pleasure.

  Chapter Ten

  Sara lay cradled in Alex’s arms, listening to the sound of his breathing, feeling his heart beating.

  She wanted to tell him that he’d just fulfilled one of her most powerful fantasies—making love with Alex Shane. And it had been as good as she’d imagined. Better, actually.

  In the years since their one brief encounter, she’d never gotten over him. Never secretly given up the hope that he would somehow come back into her life. “Alex?”

  “Um.”

  “Thank you.”

  His hand stroked over her arm, but he said nothing more. She wanted to ask if it had been as wonderful for him as it had been for her, but the words stayed locked in her throat. Something about the way he was holding her warned her that this wasn’t the time to ask intimate questions.

  He confirmed the suspicion by rolling to his back, although he didn’t move away from her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  She should keep her mouth shut, but she heard herself ask, “Are you sorry we made love?”

  She saw his Adam’s apple bob. “I feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

  “You weren’t. I think I made it pretty clear what I wanted.”

  “You’d just been attacked. You were shaky and vulnerable.”

  “And I wanted you. I’ve wanted you for years,” she said. “My feelings didn’t just spring from what happened today. Remember what
I told you. When I was thinking about your getting out of jail, I was thinking about making love with you.”

  “Because you felt sorry for me?”

  “No. Because I stopped kidding myself about what I wanted from you.”

  “I’m not in any position to make long-term commitments,” he said.

  “Did I ask for any?”

  “Women aren’t always straight with guys about what they want.”

  Dipping her head, she pressed her face against his shoulder, sure that she’d walked into a trap of her own making. She wanted to tell him about her talk with Dan Cassidy. She wanted to tell him that she understood why he might not feel so comfortable making plans for the future. Plans that included a relationship. But she knew he’d resent her conversation with his lawyer. Maybe he’d more than resent it, he’d be downright angry.

  She longed to reassure him that she wasn’t going to hurt him or betray him. More than that, she longed to say that his getting arrested and going to jail had been a defining experience for her. It had made her realize how much he meant to her—and how much he could mean, if he didn’t throw it all away.

  Again, the words stayed locked in her throat.

  “We were going to call Hempstead,” Alex said.

  “Yes.”

  “Uh, we’ve got a little time-gap problem. So maybe we should tell him that you were upset and needed some breathing space before you talked to him.”

  “Okay,” she answered, thinking that it was kind of true, if you put the right spin on it.

  Alex climbed out of bed and started gathering up his clothing. Without looking at him, she did the same, then disappeared into the bathroom, where she tried to keep her mind in neutral as she dressed.

  When she emerged once more, she saw that Alex had not only gotten dressed but also made the bed. Was he being considerate of Wendy, or was he trying to wipe out what had happened in this room? she wondered. But she didn’t comment.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, and he dialed the number.