She was still staring at him, waiting.
“Kathy, where is Shanna?” he asked.
She seemed startled. “Out with her boyfriend,” she replied. “I get the first questions, Brent. Why the bathroom? After three years apart, most men would have rung a doorbell.”
And after three years, most men might have found a new life, he thought bitterly. He never had. No matter where he went, or what he did, images of Kathy were always there. She intruded on a dance floor, she intruded in bed. Sometimes, alone at night, he’d stare at the ceiling and try to remind himself that they’d had an uncanny ability to fight like warring politicians. But the memories would keep going, and he’d remember the way the fights would end, how they would both be so alive and on fire with passion. And that made the love and tenderness that followed so much sweeter.…
But in the end, the pain had just been too much. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he had walked away.
She could have had the decency to change, though, he thought. She hadn’t, not a whit. She should have gone gray, or gained fifty pounds, sagged somewhat with the gravity of time. But she hadn’t. That was one fact he was sure of from their encounter in the bathtub. She was browned from the sun, slim and still beautifully curved. Her eyes were enormous and exquisitely blue. Her blond hair was soft and curled over her shoulders, looking sleek and achingly inviting.
“Kathy,” he said wearily, “you’re not getting the drift of this—”
“Because you’re not telling me anything!” she flared.
He swore softly and turned from her, padding to the closet. With any luck, she wouldn’t have burned every single thing he used to own.
“Brent, you’re dripping all over the place!” she called irritably after him. “All over my rug—”
He poked his head out of the closet door. “My rug, too,” he reminded her pleasantly.
She was on her feet, hands on hips, staring at him. “We agreed to keep the house together until Shanna was twenty-one. I’m to live in it, and we both have the option to buy the other out, or share in the profits if we sell it to someone else. The agreement does not mean that you can enter via the bathroom at any time and soak the place! You’re walking all over with those drenched pants.”
She knew the second the words were out that she shouldn’t have spoken. He stared at her hard, smiled slowly, then unzipped his pants. She turned with a soft oath on her lips because she knew damned well that he was going to strip his pants right off and throw them on the floor.
He did. She heard them fall. “Happy?” he asked her softly.
She strode quickly to the dresser that had always been his, and hunched down to reach the bottom drawer. She found a pair of his briefs, socks and jeans and threw them in the general area of where he was standing.
“Fifteen years and you suddenly want modesty?” he queried in the same soft tone,
“Fifteen, and then three!” she reminded him, her back to him as she fished through her own dresser for jeans and a soft blue knit pullover. She could sense that he hadn’t picked up his clothing.
“Am I disturbing you?” he asked, and despite the circumstances, she could hear the humor in his voice.
She turned and looked him straight in the eye. “No.” Her gaze started to slip down his body. She couldn’t stand there much longer. “Excuse me, I’ll take the bathroom. If you think you can refrain from entering it for a few moments, that is?”
His smile slowly deepened. “Well, I’ll try, Ms. O’Hara. I’ll certainly try.”
She headed into the bathroom. She brushed her hair before the mirror over the sink and realized that her hands were shaking badly. She gripped the sink hard to make them stop. He was alive. The thought filled her completely. But he was talking in riddles, and she wasn’t getting anywhere with him. The past kept leaping before them.
And desire, she reminded herself ruefully. She felt as if she hurt all over and she closed her eyes, wishing desperately that she had fallen out of love, not just out of marriage.
She took a deep breath, swung around and went into the bedroom. Being clothed was much better. Brent was in the closet, but his wet jeans were hanging on the bathroom doorknob. His dry jeans and briefs had disappeared.
He appeared in the doorway a second later, buttoning a tailored striped shirt. “You kept things,” he said bluntly.
She shrugged and sat on the bed. “I meant to have you pick them up, or else send them to you. Then I decided you probably didn’t need them anymore. So I was going to have them all sent to the refugee camps, but I never did. Brent, tell me what—”
“Exactly where is Shanna?” he demanded, interrupting her.
“She’s out with David. I think you know him.”
“Where?” he snapped.
“You should have stayed in the army! You would have made a wonderful drill sergeant.”
He strode across the room and leaned over her, bracing his hands on the bed. “I need to know where she is,” he said tensely.
Before she could reply, there was a tap on the door. “Kathy? Are you all right? I’m not going to leave you alone tonight, you know that,” Patty called to her worriedly through the door.
Brent backed away. “She’s not going to leave you alone tonight?” he whispered in dismay.
“We thought you were dead, remember?” she whispered.
A smile crooked his lips. “And you were that upset?”
“I couldn’t begin to imagine having to tell Shanna,” she retorted.
“Kathy, please! Are you all right in there?”
“Why can’t I tell Patty?”
He shook his head vehemently. “Tell her to go home. Or to her sister’s, or the movies, I don’t care where.”
With an exaggerated sigh she hurried to the door while Brent flattened himself against the wall. She opened the door. “Patty, please, go on. I know that Brent is all right, and I’m fine. I might even take the boat out to join Shanna just in case she hears something. You go on now.”
“But Kathy,” Patty protested. “I couldn’t leave you alone, not when you were so hysterical.”
“But I’m not hysterical now,” Kathy insisted, gritting her teeth. “Please, Patty, I’ll be fine.”
“Well, all right then, but you know where to reach me if you need me,” Patty said at last.
“Of course.” Kathy gave her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“And you come out and put on that security system, do you hear me?” Patty charged her.
“Yes,” Kathy said dryly. “Yes, I think I should.” She followed Patty into the living room. Let Brent pace and fume for a few minutes. He was darned lucky she hadn’t set it before. Sam was still the best security in the world, she thought, except that Sam had always loved Brent and apparently hadn’t forgotten that for a single moment. The dog had probably licked Brent’s face and hands the entire time Brent was sneaking into the bathroom.
Even dogs were traitors!
Kathy spent ten minutes assuring Patty she was fine, then another ten getting her out the door. She started to set the alarm when Brent’s voice suddenly made her jump nearly a foot.
“Who the hell is that coming now?” Brent demanded at her shoulder.
She stood on her toes and looked through the peephole.
Axel was at the gate. Sam didn’t like Axel very much, so he had started to bark. Axel, very tan, very tall and looking perfectly urbane in very fashionable clothing, was at the gate, swearing.
The bell rang.
“Who is it?” Brent demanded.
“A friend,” Kathy murmured.
“A friend?”
“Okay, a friend with whom I have a date,” she said.
Axel was still swearing at the dog, and Brent was swearing at her under his breath.
“Couldn’t wait for my body to grow cold, huh?”
“I made the date last week,” she answered. “And we’ve been divorced for three years, Brent.”
He wasn’t g
oing to argue with her over that. Leaning against the door, he stared at her and charged her, “Get rid of him.”
She glared at him. “You know, Brent, I did have plans—”
“Get rid of him, Kathy.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that and—”
“All right, please get rid of him, Kathy.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but turned and looked through the peephole. He smiled at her. “Natty dresser, huh?”
“He dresses quite nicely, actually.”
“Yep. Just like dating a Ken doll, eh, Barbie?”
“Speaking of Barbies, where is Miss Harrington? Marla, isn’t it? Couldn’t you have gone to her for help?”
He didn’t blink or betray a single emotion. “She isn’t the mother of my daughter,” he told her simply. “Kathy, please go do something with Mr. Sunshine. I want to get to Shanna as soon as possible.”
Her eyes widened with alarm. “Why? What’s wrong? What’s going to happen to—”
“Kathy, I’ll explain, I promise. But Sam is barking loudly enough to wake the dead, and if you don’t answer that door, your, er, friend is going to call the police.”
“You’re blocking my way,” she said.
He stepped quickly aside. Kathy hurried down the walk to the gate. “Down, Sam, down!” she told the dog. But Sam was still jumping at the gate, no longer barking, but whining unhappily. He knew Brent was in the house. He was worse than a mother, Kathy thought.
“Sam, down!”
“Kathy, that dog is getting dangerous,” Axel warned her.
“He’s supposed to be dangerous. He’s a guard dog,” she said sweetly as she opened the gate. Axel would have come in, but she slipped out quickly, closing the gate on the dog. Axel was frowning, looking at her casual attire. “I know I said that we didn’t need to dress for dinner, but—”
“I can’t go, Axel,” she said.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, really. There’s, uh, there’s been an accident, and Brent’s name has been linked with it and I want to stay here in case Shanna calls.”
“Oh!” Startled, Axel looked at her worriedly. “Oh, Kathy, I’m really sorry. Of course, we’ll cancel dinner. I’m sure you must be very concerned. I’ll stay with you—”
“No!” she said quickly, then instantly regretted her outburst. There were nice things, really nice things, about Axel. His concern for her was one. “Axel, please forgive me. I have a horrible headache. I just want to get some rest and be alone. Please. I appreciate your concern and I am so sorry, it’s just—”
“Hey!” He caught her face between his hands and held it tenderly, staring into her eyes. “Kathy, it’s all right. I understand. Call me if you need me, if I can do anything, anything at all.”
She nodded, feeling horribly guilty. He bent and softly kissed her lips, then urged her toward the gate. “Get on in there now.”
“I will.”
“Set the alarm.”
“I will. Right away.”
“Call me!”
“I will.”
He nodded and started toward his bloodred Ferrari. “You do have Sam!”
Yes, she did have Sam. And Sam could protect her against anyone. Except the one man she most needed protection from.
She locked the gate and waved at Axel, then hurried to the house. The door opened when she reached it. As soon as she stepped inside, it closed behind her. Brent was leaning against it, watching her with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“A friend, huh?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What a tender farewell.”
“He’s a tender sort of guy,” she said, waving a hand in the air.
He stepped away from the door, and in a second he was standing before her, looking into her eyes. They might have been kids again, volatile, very passionate and insanely jealous.
“So just how serious is it with you and Ken?”
“Axel. His name is Axel,” she said sweetly.
“Well?”
She smiled slowly, enjoying the moment. At least she didn’t appear on videos with Axel with her chest bared. Maybe it wasn’t quite the same thing, but…
“He’s a friend. And what is it to you, Mr. McQueen?”
“I’m concerned for your welfare, nothing more, Ms. O’Hara,” he told her. But his eyes were on her mouth. He wasn’t touching her at all, but she felt the warmth that radiated from him as if it was the glow of a fire enveloping her….
“I just wondered if it was the same,” he said.
“The same?”
His head lowered and his mouth caught hold of hers, and waves of sensation, memories and more, flooded throughout her limbs and her torso and rushed wickedly along the length of her spine. His tongue flicked softly over her lips and gained entrance. She should have denied his gentle assault, but she could not. She trembled, wishing it wasn’t the same, wishing she wasn’t so easy. Wishing that Axel’s kiss was something pleasant, not unstirring. Wishing that the mere contact with Brent’s mouth didn’t cause such an explosion of passion and desire….
He stepped back. If she hadn’t caught herself instantly, she would have fallen. Her eyes flew open, and she could still feel his mouth touching hers. He was studying her so intently, and she was afraid she would betray her feelings.
“Well?” he said very softly.
“Well, what?” she demanded.
“Is there a difference?”
“Well, no, you haven’t changed.”
“But you don’t love me anymore.”
“I did for fifteen years. Perhaps now I don’t know, but the thought of your kiss—”
“Or the reality of it,” he interjected.
“Hmm. Anyway, it doesn’t make me want to throw up or anything,” she said sweetly.
He groaned softly, then he laughed, and he pulled her to him. She felt the bulge of muscles in his arms and the hardness of his chest, and she suddenly knew that if he came a single hair closer to her, she would burst into tears and beg him to try to explain to her what had gone wrong.
She wound her fingers around his wrist and stepped back. “Brent, what about Shanna? You broke into my bathroom, you made me send Patty away and break a date and now you have me worried senseless and I still haven’t the faintest idea what is going on. Tell me!”
He released her. Still comfortable in the house, he strode across the living room toward the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, casting her a curious gaze at the change in her brand.
“Brent—”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll start with tonight. I was supposed to have dinner with Johnny on that yacht of his. Johnny wanted to keep the Highlanders going for another album and I didn’t want to have anything more to do with him.”
Kathy pulled a soda from the refrigerator, sat on one of the kitchen-counter bar stools and nodded. Brent and Johnny were entirely different people. “He’s still late to rehearsals, pulls no-shows and the like?” she said.
He nodded. “Well, he was still that way,” he said softly. “But there was more than that going on.”
“Oh?”
He leaned over the counter toward her, and she saw tension tighten his features. She wanted to ease it away. There was so much she loved about his face. It wasn’t just that he was handsome. It was the character in his features, and the wisdom and determination in his gaze, even the penetrating golden light that sometimes seemed to impale her. In an argument it was awful. But when they did manage to speak, it was wonderful and understanding, and could enter her soul and see the things she couldn’t quite say.
She closed her eyes tightly. Something horrible was going on. Shanna could be in danger.
“Johnny was afraid of something or someone. I don’t know what. He didn’t want to be alone.”
“So he knew someone was after him. Is that why you called Robert?”
He glanced at her sharply. “He’s a cop and a good friend. I knew he would be discreet.”
>
“So why didn’t you go see him after all?” she demanded.
He sighed and took a deep swallow of the beer. “I am going to see him. Just as soon as I get you and Shanna out of the country.”
“Out of the country!” Kathy exclaimed. “But Brent, Johnny could easily have had lots of enemies. Why would anyone—”
“Kathy, there were all kinds of news reports about the fact that I was going to be with Johnny tonight. I have reason to believe that I was supposed to go up in smoke with Johnny. Someone didn’t just want him dead—whoever it was wanted something from him, too.”
“Wanted what?” Kathy demanded.
“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Brent set his drink down and rubbed his fingers wearily through his hair as he paced the kitchen.
“Just because—” Kathy began.
“That’s not all!” Brent interrupted harshly. “Do you remember a man named Harry Robertson?”
She thought for a moment then nodded. “He was the backup musician who went to prison for smuggling, right? He worked with you when you and Johnny and the others got together for that benefit concert right before…” Her voice trailed away for a moment. It had been right before Ryan had died, right before she lost the new baby, right before…
“Right,” Brent said harshly, then continued quickly. “I always felt kind of bad for Harry. I had this feeling he had been coerced into his smuggling activities. Except that I was in the group when he was trying to steal Mexican treasures from the time of the conquistadores. Still…I think he was pressured from the outside, but he wouldn’t say. He seemed scared to death all the time. He played and played and played that tune of mine, ‘Forever My Love.’ He wouldn’t talk. He wouldn’t let any of us help him at his trial.”
“So he went to prison,” Kathy whispered.
“And he was murdered there a year later,” Brent said.
Startled, Kathy sat back. “Murdered?”
“Well, the papers said he died in a prison fight. That he was stabbed to death. No one was ever prosecuted for his death, but—”
Forever My Love Page 3
