Killing Kelly

by Heather Graham

  “Island.”

  She turned and started toward the crosswalk. She stepped onto the street.

  “Hey! There are cars out there!” he warned.

  She turned back to him. “Big-time law, big-time fines! Cars have to stop.” As she said the words, she started into the street.

  Suddenly she heard O’Casey shout. When she turned, there was a dark sedan shooting her way. She heard O’Casey shout again, then she was tackled. He hit her like a ton of bricks. His force propelled her far out of the way of the speeding car. They landed together, all but entwined, almost on the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Her butt hurt, her arms hurt, her shoulder hurt. She was dazed, still held down by the weight of the man.

  She looked up into his eyes. It was then that she started shaking, realizing that, once again, she had very nearly been killed.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Oh, my God!” a woman shrieked from her table at a sidewalk café.

  “Are you all right?” a man demanded, rushing forward.

  Suddenly, there were people everywhere. “Can you imagine!” someone shouted. “Asshole!” someone else cried. By then, bystanders had helped them both up.

  O’Casey had lost his sunglasses. The look he gave Kelly was of naked concern. She was startled to feel a sweet heat cascade into her even as she trembled in the aftermath of fear. But he quickly tore his eyes from her, looking at the crowd.

  “Did anyone get a license plate number?”

  There was silence. Then, “I think it might have been an out-of-state tag,” a woman offered tentatively.

  “No! It was a rental plate, I’m certain,” a pretty young blonde said.

  “Well, it was a black sedan, that’s for certain,” a bearded man with his paper coffee cup still in hand said with assurance.

  “Black!” A clean but scruffy-looking teen protested. “It was dark green.”

  “Green! It was one of those really deep blues,” an older man said, shaking his head.

  “It was a Chevy,” someone said.

  “No, it was a Ford!”

  “It was a foreign car!”

  “We should call the police.”

  O’Casey had been staring at them all, and he shook his head incredulously. “No, thanks. It won’t do any good.”

  “That was nearly a hit and run!” the blonde said indignantly.

  “But we have nothing to tell the police,” O’Casey said patiently. “They can’t go stopping every green, black, blue, Ford, Chevy and foreign car with out-of-state, in-state and rental tags,” he explained.

  “Oh, my God!” the blonde said. “You’re Marla Valentine!”

  Kelly cringed. “I’m Kelly Trent, yes.”

  Her pants were ripped, she was totally disheveled and she was beginning to hurt in half a dozen places. She sure as hell didn’t want a big deal made out of this. The next thing she knew, she’d be off limits from every workplace in the world because of the insurance costs, since she’d appear to be a terrible liability.

  “Thank you all so much for trying to help,” she said, tugging at O’Casey’s sleeve. “But it’s true, there’s nothing that can be done. Thank you. O’Casey!” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I beg of you, let’s get out of here! Please. I don’t want to wind up on the five o’clock news.”

  “It didn’t used to be like this!” the older man was complaining. “Californians! We know how to stop for crosswalks. It’s all the foreigners we’ve got here now. All those folks from New York!”

  “Idiot drivers are everywhere,” someone else said.

  “You’re really all right?” the blonde asked.

  “Yes, yes, fine…just shaken, scratched up a bit,” Kelly said. “O’Casey!” she whispered more strongly.

  “Excuse us,” he said firmly to the gathering crowd. “Thanks so very much. We’re going to go clean up now…and shake this experience off.”

  His arm around Kelly, he started moving her down the sidewalk toward the studio.

  “Wait!” someone called.

  Kelly stiffened. O’Casey turned back. The blonde rushed forward, bringing Kelly’s over-the-shoulder bag and the clothing she had just bought, which had wound up flung near the curb. They both had completely forgotten Kelly’s belongings.

  “Thank you!” Kelly said.

  “My pleasure!”

  Kelly smiled weakly again, really anxious to escape. The crowd had inched up to where the blonde was.

  “Thank you again everyone!” she called.

  O’Casey started walking. Quickly. She could hear the crowd continuing as they departed.

  “Kelly Trent! Wow. Better in person.”

  “So natural!”

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “Hot as hell!” someone said. Kelly couldn’t see over her shoulder, but she was certain it was the blonde.

  She glanced up at O’Casey. “I think the blonde likes you.”

  “Maybe that good-looking gay guy does, too,” he said with a grin, but then the grin faded. “You could have been killed.”

  “Yes, but it was stupidity, not a conspiracy,” she told him. “I was determined to prove to you that Californians could cross a highway when they wanted. I guess that guy—or whoever was driving—just didn’t see me.”

  He was quiet, and she didn’t like his silence. “What?” she demanded.

  “Kelly, that car didn’t just miss seeing you. It sped up.”

  “Well, of course it sped up. Since the guy nearly hit me, he sure as hell wasn’t going to stay around.”

  “I don’t like it,” O’Casey said flatly, wondering why she was misunderstanding his words.

  “Well, I didn’t think it was a ton of fun, either!”

  “No, I mean…”

  She groaned. “O’Casey! No one was trying to kill me! Think about it. Who the hell would know just when and where I was going to cross a street!”

  “How badly are you hurt?” he asked her.

  “I’m not. A rip in my pants, a scratched knee and elbow.”

  “No aches and pains?”

  “A few.”

  “Think you should see a doctor?” he asked.

  “No!”

  He was silent again. “You can’t be up to dancing right now.”

  “Actually, I could be. Except that I really am filthy.”

  They had neared the studio. He didn’t direct her up the stairs but around back to the parking lot. “Where are you taking me? I don’t want to go home right now, O’Casey. There is nothing wrong with me!”

  “I won’t take you home.”

  “Where are you taking me, then?”

  “My hotel is just down the street. Let’s go there, clean up, regroup.”

  “All right.”

  He drove the short distance down the street. The valet took the car, and they headed quickly for the elevator. He opened his door. Kelly stepped in, impressed.

  “Nice.”

  “Yes, actually, it is. Pretty good lifestyle for a simple man like me,” he commented, grinning. “I’ve got to admit, I did like the legroom on the plane. The meal wasn’t great, but it beat the hell out of the bag of chips they throw at you now in coach. And as for the room, I could get used to living like this.” He walked across the spacious room with its bedroom and sitting areas and opened a door. “I’ll take off for a while and leave you with the bath.”

  Kelly arched a brow and followed him. The bathroom was great. The tub huge, with all kinds of whirl jets.

  “Very nice,” she agreed.

  “So I’ll get out of your way for a while, go for a walk. Take your time.”

  “You went down on the pavement, too, you know. And it is your room—maybe you need a hot bath.”

  “I landed on top of you,” he reminded her ruefully. “I’ve got a little dust on me.”

  She nodded slowly. “All right. A good soak is in order.” She hesitated, almost afraid to breathe, and spoke as casually as she could. “I don’t want to throw you out.�
��

  “You’re not.”

  “The bathroom does have a door, you don’t need to leave,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah, I know.” He walked across the room again, then hunkered down in front of the minibar. “Think they keep brandy in these?”

  “Doubtful, but you never know.”

  He struggled with the catch for a minute, then got the door open. “Um…”

  “I’ll take the little bottle of Chablis.”

  He nodded and handed it to her. After a moment, he took a beer for himself. He popped it and took a long swallow.

  “Wow,” she murmured.

  “Well, I was scared as hell for you, even if you weren’t. Hey, want a glass for that?”

  “No, thanks. I guess I can swig wine out of the bottle, too.”

  He nodded. “Take it in with you. There’s all kinds of bath salts in there. Hot water will help a lot with your muscles.”

  “My muscles are all right.”

  “They tensed, trust me.”

  “Did yours tense, too?”

  “You bet.”

  He finished the beer and set the can down. “All right, I’m going. I’m serious. Hot, hot water. It will help a lot.”

  She frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “So where are you going?”

  “For a walk.”

  “Why?”

  “Okay, I didn’t see the license tag at all, but I’m pretty sure the car was black, had four doors and was a foreign model. I’m just going to take a look around.”

  “O’Casey, that car is going to be long gone by now!”

  “Probably. But I think I’ll retrace our steps a bit, take a look around at the metered parking, in the lots.”

  She threw up her arms. “Okay, fine. Make yourself happy, knock yourself out.” She headed toward the bathroom, then came back, taking her shopping and shoulder bags from him. “Thanks!” she said softly. At the bathroom door, she paused again. “Really, thank you for saving my life.”

  “It’s all part of the dance, huh?” he replied, a slight smile teasing his lips.

  “All in a day’s work,” she agreed. She stepped into the massive, beautifully marbled and decorated bath, and closed the door.

  Quite frankly, she was right, Doug thought. It was absurd to attempt walking around the area looking for the car. But Kelly didn’t want to go home, and he wasn’t sure he should be around while she soaked. So he walked.

  Pity that with all the witnesses, not one person had been able to catch sight of the license plate. But then again, who stared at license plates? It was a miracle most of the time when someone actually caught the numbers on a tag. But in a hit-and-run case, there was usually damage on the car. Thank God there wasn’t going to be any damage on the car.

  Here, as in his hometown, expensive cars were plentiful. Sleek black sedans were parked in many places, along with green ones and dark blue ones. There were small, ritzy sport cars as well, but the sedans were plentiful. He was looking for a needle in a haystack where the needle might not have even fallen. Or, if he were to find the needle, he wouldn’t recognize it from the hay. Still, he took his time, walking several miles in the area, stopping off at a little place near the bookstore for an espresso.

  Bad driver? Clever assailant? He didn’t have the answer. He’d researched the people connected to Kelly’s soap and the video, but he hadn’t found anything too incriminating. Yet something nagged at him. The incident with the car just seemed to make it all the worse. At last, he turned back to the hotel. Tonight he could talk to Liam.

  When he reached his room, he hesitated, then slipped the plastic key into the lock. “Kelly?” he called.

  “I’m here.”

  He walked into the room, and there she was, scrubbed clean, hair damp, stretched out in the hotel-provided white terry robe on the elaborate white bed.

  “Hey,” he murmured, closing the door behind him.

  It wasn’t as if she was in some flimsy lace garment, something see-through, low-cut, offering an erotic display of cleavage. It was worse, for he knew she was naked beneath the terry robe. She wasn’t wearing any kind of musk, no perfume sworn to be an aphrodisiac. She was just…bathed. And there was a subtle scent to whatever soap, shampoo, bath salts or body wash she had used that was…compelling. No, alluring. In truth, on her it was the most exotic tease that had ever wafted toward his senses.

  She was on an elbow, reading one of the in-room magazines. Though her hair remained damp, just brushed, she had probably made a halfhearted attempt to dry it because the wisps around her face were light and curling slightly, becoming a softer shade of red. There was nothing about the way she was stretched out that intended to taunt and seduce. The robe was respectably closed, the hem reaching below her knee, only her calves and feet visible. But then again, why was she in the robe?

  He walked over to the side of the bed. She looked up at him, those eyes of hers as clear and beautiful as the glaze of a perfect day in the islands. “Did you find the car?”

  “No.”

  “You weren’t really expecting to, were you?”

  “No,” he told her.

  “Are you afraid of me?” she asked him softly.

  A smile teased his lips. “No. And yes.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because we shouldn’t become involved,” he told her.

  She nodded, looking down for a moment. Then she looked back up at him. He noted that her lashes were very dark and sweeping, a perfect frame for those eyes.

  “Ah,” she murmured. Her gaze met his squarely. “Why not?”

  He lifted his hands, surprised that words were failing him. But instinct wasn’t. Natural inclination was all there. He could already feel the pounding of his heart and the pulse of his blood in his temple. Reaction to stimuli. Damn, she even had good feet. Her toenails were a delicate shade of pink. Feet connected to ankles. Ankles to calves. And above the hem, the edge of the terry robe. And beneath it, nothing.

  He met her eyes again. “Because,” he said gruffly, “you’re Kelly Trent.”

  She offered him a small, wistful smile that did more than seize hold of his libido. It catapulted to his heart. “What if I weren’t Kelly Trent? What if I were someone you just met at a bowling alley?”

  “You don’t bowl,” he reminded her.

  “Okay, what if I were just someone you met at a Pilates class?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t take Pilates.”

  “All right,” she said softly. “I understand.” She stood, shaking that mane of long red hair. She started walking toward the bathroom, then paused, turning back. “No, I don’t understand. Am I that…unintriguing?”

  He groaned out loud. He’d tried. God knew, he’d tried. There was a point, however, at which every man had to cede a losing battle. He walked over to her. Her hands were on the belt of the terry robe; she’d been getting ready to give it up for her clothing. His fingers curled over hers. He gave a tug to the belt and the terry split. Her eyes were on his. He returned her stare, cupped her chin, angled her head. Her lips parted to his instantly. They were great lips—flush, full, sensual, deep, rich…

  His fingers tangled into the red-fire mane of her hair. The warmth of her mouth seemed like a honeyed mire, dragging him more deeply into a realm where he knew that, once entrapped, he would remain forever. That didn’t stop him. No inner warning, no pretense of intelligence, reason or self-control could have begun to budge him. His tongue raked her mouth, the need for greater depths gripping the length of him. There, in the liquid inferno, came the knowledge. The point of no return had been reached, ignored and bypassed.

  At last his lips rose from hers. Her eyes were on him, her lips damp, more evocative. Her chest rose and fell. She didn’t smile as she searched out his eyes. “No recriminations,” she said softly. “No regrets, no commitment, no demands.” He realized that she wasn’t whispering her own independence; she was simply telling him that he’d owe her nothing.

  �
��You really think that I’ll forget this moment?” he asked her, smoothing a strand of red-gold silk from her forehead.

  She studied him. “Nor will I. But you owe me nothing.”

  “I didn’t suggest that I did. After all, you are seducing me.”

  “Yes.” With that honest admission of the obvious, she turned away from him, letting the robe fall. It wasn’t a calculated move. It didn’t need to be.

  If he hadn’t already been fully convinced to give way to madness, he would have been at that moment. Her back was perfect, flawless, her shoulders tapering to her waist, dimples just inside her hips, hips slightly flared, buttocks, thighs, back to those calves. Perfect feet. Upward again…The unruly red mane of hair.

  She ripped the great expanse of white covering from the bed. He took the opportunity to kick off his shoes, shed his clothing. Thank God for knits. They shed fast. She slid onto the sheets and he had to stop himself from flying on top of her, forcing a slow path, crawling next to her, finding her eyes again, engaging her lips as he allowed his fingers to slide down the length of her arm, feel the softness of her flesh.

  Fingers played downward next, over her hips, slightly down her thigh. He felt her knuckles as they curled against his chest, locked there by the force of his position. He caught her hands, kissing the knuckles, allowing them freedom. Felt them against his shoulders, a butterfly touch over his chest. Felt her move against him. Her lips, freed from his kiss, left a sultry tease of heat and dampness against his shoulder. He groaned deep in his throat, aware of the spasms shaking his length. God, he’d be like a kid in a minute, drowning in sensation, unable to…

  He caught her wrists and flipped her down, staring into her eyes again for a minute. They were a sea, he warned himself, a sea he was going to drown in. Oh, well, no man lived forever.

  Her breasts were firm, evocative to his hands, reacting to the slightest tease of his fingers. The nipples were rose, a perfect match for the redness of her hair. And a perfect fit for the light edge of his lips and teeth, eliciting a rise of movement from her, a gasping sound, a twist against him.