Killing Kelly

by Heather Graham

  Her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly. He inched downward, burying his face against her ribs, abdomen. His hands slid down the outer length of her legs. The inner length. Teased. Explored. Probed.

  She surged hard against him, almost struggling to touch him as he touched her. He didn’t dare let her. He inched downward, fingers stroking, tongue doing likewise, following the same track in a swirling, slow, tantalizing action.

  She was frantically whispering, twisting, arching, in one second trying to elude his touch, in another ever more eager for it. She cried out, fingers biting into his shoulders, body becoming as stiff as a jackknife, muscles taut, strained.

  Easing suddenly, he inched swiftly upward, hips wedged between her legs, fingers capturing her chin and cheek again, mouth finding her lips, body thrusting into her with the same motion.

  She was fire, lava, movement, friction, magic. He broke the connection of their lips, encapsulating her in his arms as he fit more tightly to her, body rocking, the force of desire racking through him with a fever. The room seemed to become nothing more than a haven of white, blinding white, like the clouds. He could almost imagine that such a vision was Heaven. Against the expanse of white, her hair seemed like tendrils of real flame, her flesh vibrant, their hands laced together.

  Somewhere in it all, he lost sight of everything except for the blinding white, the scent of her, the agony that twitched throughout his length and the almost savage hunger with which he came to move. The feeling was…so good, so agonizing.

  He climaxed with stunning force, his body shuddering. He didn’t know if five minutes had passed or five seconds. He felt an echoing tremor and a new surge of heat as her body eased beneath his own, felt the slow shift downward from rapture and radiance.

  He shifted his weight from her, coming to her side. She curled against him, eyes downcast.

  “What are you thinking?” he probed.

  Her eyes met his and a smile teased her lips. “I’m thinking that at least now I’ll be able to do the tango without…well, you know. Without wondering.”

  “Miss Trent, have you been out to seduce me all along?”

  “Not all along, no. I really didn’t like you at first.”

  He laughed and tilted her chin upward. “Did you raid the minibar for the rest of the booze after I left?”

  “I consumed my one small bottle of wine. I am not in the least inebriated,” she assured him. “Honestly.”

  “Um. Nice.”

  “You did inhale that beer,” she informed him.

  “I admit, I’m high as a kite.”

  She frowned. “You went somewhere and had something?”

  “Espresso.”

  She smiled. “So you’re high on me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then why were you resisting with such determination?”

  “You’re Kelly Trent.”

  “And what does that mean?” she asked a little desperately.

  “It means we’re working together.”

  “This could help the tango,” she reminded him.

  “I dance with lots of women.”

  “Ah.” She frowned again. “What exactly does that mean?”

  He laughed softly. “Exactly what I said. I dance.” He shifted and noticed her wince. “Are you…did I hurt you?” he said puzzled.

  “Kneecap.”

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing. I have a scraped kneecap.”

  He maneuvered around and tenderly touched the area where she did indeed have a good scratch. “Wow, sorry.”

  “I’m not in that much pain!”

  “Still…” He touched his lips gently around the area.

  “Left thigh,” she said huskily.

  He shifted around again. “There will be a bruise.”

  “Afraid so.”

  He brushed the area with his lips as well. She twisted beneath him, catching his face between her hands. “You didn’t hurt anything, did you?”

  “Shoulder is a little sore,” he said.

  Long, delicate fingers traced over it. “Where?”

  “There.”

  She kissed the spot.

  “I think I hit this rib.”

  “Um…” Again, that incredulous touch of delicacy and wicked flames. “Anywhere else?”

  “There isn’t a part on me that couldn’t use a healing touch,” he assured her solemnly.

  “Then perhaps I’d best spread a little tenderness all around,” she murmured. And she did. Here. There. With each brush of fingers and tongue, the world began to spin.

  He let her have her way, until he could bear it no longer. Then his aggression surged forward. She was in his arms and they were locked to each other once again, her limbs climbing his hips, a surge of energy ripping through them both with force and fire. Her skin was damp, her hair a tangled red halo, her body a work of pure erotic rhythm. He was rocked that time into such a climax that he was blinded, half soaring in the sublime physical elation, half in an agony of easing tension. Elated, he drew her close just to feel the pounding of her heart, the rise and fall of her breath, the whisper of it against his cheek. He smoothed her hair, marveling at the feel of it.

  She had been sidling into his heart and soul since he had first seen her and tried to deny that there was anything special about her. Now here she was, so trusting at his side. So trusting that she had dozed off, he realized after a moment. And that fact tore at him. She was sleeping because she probably hadn’t slept much at all lately. Because she kept denying that she could be in danger. But she was afraid.

  CHAPTER 15

  Kelly woke with a start. The room was in shadows. She sat up, seized by an irrational panic at finding herself alone.

  “Hey!”

  He was there, standing at the foot of the bed and dressed nicely. Damn, he wore a suit well. Of course, now she knew why, how she knew every inch of him. She had gotten exactly what she’d wanted and more. And she was both elated and nervous.

  “Hey,” she managed.

  “Nightmare?” he asked. “Scary thought, if it was.”

  “No…no. I just woke suddenly, that’s all.”

  “You were really tired.”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, you said we were supposed to be at your friend’s house at eight.”

  “Yes! Well, thereabouts. What time is it now?”

  “About seven-forty-five.”

  “Oh!” She jumped out of bed, heading for the bath, yet she had to pause. She walked back to him, frowning. “I’m sorry. I know you really didn’t want to get involved, but I rather pushed the issue.”

  “Kelly!” His hands fell on her shoulders. “I’m not sorry in the least. I couldn’t be. My God, let’s leave it at this—I couldn’t be. In fact, if you don’t get into the shower and get some clothes on, I can be even less sorry, and then we’ll be really late.”

  She smiled, turned and raced into the bathroom. In fifteen minutes she had taken a quick shower, dressed and put on a bit of makeup. He seemed somewhat surprised that she was ready so fast. Though he’d been at his computer in the sitting area, he shut down the moment he saw her, whistling. “That’s a casual go-to-a-friend’s-house dress?”

  She frowned. It was just a black knit.

  “It’s at least six years old. Wash and wear.”

  “Wash and wear well,” he murmured.

  He escorted her out. At the elevator, they ran into a crowd of teenage girls. “Did you see him?” one of them was demanding of the other. She was thin as a rail, in jeans and a cropped tank top, with short ebony hair. The majority of her stomach was showing.

  “Are you sure that was him?” another asked. Blonde and cute, she had long hair, a stylish cap and a zodiac sign tattooed on her shoulder.

  “Of course! All the rock stars come to this hotel!” a brunette in a miniskirt declared.

  “It was him!” the dark-haired girl insisted. Then she fell silent, seeing Doug and Kelly. She smiled a little awkward
ly. “Sorry, but do you know if Rick Garrison is at this hotel?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know who he is,” Kelly said.

  “Lead guitarist for the Cobras, fairly new group,” O’Casey informed her.

  “Is he here?” the dark-haired girl asked.

  “Sorry, I don’t know,” O’Casey said.

  “Your rock star may be here,” Kelly offered. The girls seemed sweet. “It’s true, a lot of rock musicians stay at this hotel.”

  They had just stepped out on the lobby level when one of the girls began shouting “Oh, oh! I know it’s him this time. It’s Lance Morton!” the girl cried, in ecstasy.

  Kelly’s head jerked up. O’Casey was already looking across the lobby. The man to whom they were referring was headed out to the pool and garden bar area.

  “Oh! Lance Morton! Yes, yes!” The girls started to move.

  Kelly and Doug looked at each other. “Lance, here?” Doug said.

  “Let’s not hang around, please, in case it was Lance and he comes back,” Kelly said.

  “I wonder what he’s doing here. Actually, I wonder why he’s not here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kelly asked.

  “He’s not staying here. Remember? I dropped him at his hotel last night. He’s staying in Beverly Hills.”

  “Maybe he wanted to stay in Beverly Hills,” Kelly said.

  O’Casey had turned around and was looking toward the bar. “He’s here now.”

  “It’s a popular bar and he wants a drink,” Kelly said, sighing. “O’Casey, please, let’s have a nice night. I beg you, don’t make a mystery out of every move someone makes!”

  His attention returned to her and those magnetic eyes softened.

  “Miss Trent, you’re right. I’ll speak with the valet and we’ll be on the road. We’ll have a great time at your friend’s place and then we can come back here and—”

  “No.”

  “No? That was it?” he asked politely. “Curiosity sated, all done?”

  She shook her head, smiling. “I have Sam, remember? We’ll have a nice time at my friend’s house and then go back to my house. If you don’t mind.”

  One of the very slow, rueful smiles she found so appealing curled onto his lips. “I don’t mind at all. Frankly, all that white was beginning to feel a little too heavenly. And God forbid, I wouldn’t want you thinking you were too much of a goddess.”

  She arched a brow. “All right, Adonis, let’s go, shall we?”

  “Adonis?” he queried.

  “Goddess?” she said skeptically.

  “Well, it was one hell of an afternoon,” he murmured politely.

  “And it’s going to be a good night. A normal night,” she said firmly.

  “Yes, of course.” He offered her his arm and led her out the front door of the hotel, where he asked the valet for his car. Yet, Kelly noted, despite his words that they would enjoy the evening, he was staring back toward the bar. And there was something about his expression that elicited a core of fear in the bottom of her heart.

  Just as they arrived, Kelly said, “Please don’t tell them about the incident with the car today. They’ll make something out of it and just go nuts worrying.”

  “Maybe something should have been made out of it.”

  She shook her head, distressed. “You don’t understand, O’Casey. If I become a liability, no one will ever hire me for anything!”

  “If you’re dead, you won’t have to worry about it,” he warned her. “And these are your friends.”

  She shook her head. “Please don’t say anything tonight.”

  The scene at Serena’s house was exactly as Kelly had warned—wild. And delightful. Doug didn’t like to think of himself as the star-struck type, but meeting Abby Sawyer could only be described as awesome. Her beauty was ageless, and her manner as charming as her looks. She was a doting grandmother, and apparently more than fond of Jennifer’s brood, as well. There was nothing “Hollywood” about the gathering. Serena was in an apron, dangling her infant on her hip, able to prepare drinks while she shouted out to the patio to tell her husband that it was time to get the fire geared up. Doug met each of the kids in turn, laughing when he discovered that it was true, watching a toddler tear about probably demanded more energy than dancing the hottest salsa.

  Besides the kids, there were the animals—a huge wolfhound and some kind of a fluffy little thing in the backyard, a massive cat on the rear of the sofa and love birds in a gorgeous antique cage.

  Doug recognized Conar, Jennifer’s husband, almost immediately, though he said nothing when they were introduced, reading that the man didn’t want anything said. The actor had been in a number of top-rated movies and lauded in the papers for his choice of roles. But he was home now, just a husband and dad. He, too, was at the mercy of the kids. There were no housekeepers, cooks or attendants of any kind at the gathering.

  Conar and Liam Murphy had apparently been friends for some time; there was an ease about their relationship. And when the children had been collected and tucked away in various beds, Doug found himself out on the porch where the two men were working the barbecue. He was glad. They were scoping him out, that much was evident. And it was all right. He already knew that there was a steely quality about Liam Murphy he liked. And Conar seemed made of the same stuff, entirely down-to-earth, bright, into and aware of the real world. There was some general conversation between them at first—politics, weather, sports. Then, as he pushed foil-wrapped potatoes around on the barbecue, Liam said, “So, you went from being a cop to being a dance instructor slash competitor.”

  Taken off guard, Doug froze slightly, then shrugged. The guy was a P.I. And he and his wife had a deep friendship with Kelly. Naturally, he’d been checked out by this crew.

  “That’s right.”

  “Interesting change in careers.”

  “I know.”

  “You hated being a cop?”

  “I loved being a cop.”

  Conar and Liam exchanged glances. Liam cleared his throat. “Are you, uh…”

  “He wants to know if you’re gay,” Conar said. “Which would be fine, of course.”

  “He does have damned good clothes,” Liam said ruefully.

  “Heterosexual. It’s not a requirement in dance to be gay, you know.”

  Both men reddened. “Lord, I didn’t mean…” Conar muttered.

  “It’s all right,” Doug said. “Some of the most talented people in the business are gay. I just don’t happen to be. Sorry, you caught me a little by surprise there, knowing about my previous employment.”

  “But you’ve got your private investigator’s license now, too, right?” Liam asked.

  Doug shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got the license. I have a brother who’s a P.I. and, naturally, lots of friends still on the force.”

  Again Conar and Liam glanced at each other. Doug was glad to feel that he was passing muster. “Is there a problem?” he asked, because they seemed to be holding something back.

  “Problem?” Conar said.

  “Hell, no,” Liam said.

  “Frankly, we’re relieved,” Conar told him.

  Doug’s brows shot up.

  “I think Kelly is blind to possible danger,” Liam said.

  “She is,” Doug agreed.

  “So we’re glad she has an ex-cop dance teacher,” Liam said with a shrug.

  Doug was seated on a patio bench by the wall and he stretched against it. “If someone is after her—and managed to rig something on the location set when the soap was filming—wouldn’t that someone have to be associated with the soap?”

  “We had some serious incidents that involved the soap several years ago. Since then, everyone has been checked out big-time,” Liam said.

  “What about this Joe Penny?” Doug asked.

  “Joe? He’d be the last person in the world to hurt Kelly. He was delighted with the response her character was drawing in. The soap was flying high. It must be killing him
to have her off the set,” Conar replied.

  “I agree with that one,” Liam said.

  “The possibilities are endless. Kelly has gotten a lot of crackpot mail. Then the earth crumbles, and that’s that. Accident. Coincidence. Maybe, no matter how good a front the guy is putting up, Dana Sumter was killed by her husband. And the woman in Ohio was simply an abuser of drugs and alcohol. Maybe we’re all a bunch of alarmists,” Conar said with a shrug.

  “Actually, I’m glad she’s going to be working in Miami,” Liam said. “At least she’ll be out of here for a while.”

  “Away from accidents,” Conar said.

  Despite Kelly’s words, Doug was tempted to tell them about the car that had nearly run Kelly over. For the moment, he decided to remain silent. Liam had said something that made sense. Kelly did seem in safer territory when she was out of L.A.

  “Maybe we should go back early,” Doug murmured.

  “Might not be a bad idea,” Liam agreed. “Anyway, I’ll know more after tomorrow.”

  “What’s happening tomorrow?” Doug asked.

  “I’ve got permission to interview Sumter.”

  “The husband?” Doug said.

  Liam nodded, then shrugged. “I’ve got friends in the right places.”

  “Any possibility I could tag along?”

  Liam looked at him, then shrugged again. “I’m going early. I’m out of here by seven.”

  “Look, like you said, I was a cop. I’ve still got some instincts, and I’m going to be around Kelly a lot now. I don’t care what time it is, I’d like to tag along and meet the guy.”

  “All right, you’re on,” Liam said.

  “Lord, he’s really great!” Serena said, adding the mushrooms Jennifer had just sliced to the salad she was fixing.

  “I like him,” Abby, in charge of garnishes for the serving plates, informed Kelly sagely.

  “Great body,” Jennifer said.

  “Great butt,” Serena agreed.

  “Girls!” Abby admonished, grinning. “It is a great butt,” she told Kelly.

  “There’s more to a man than a body!” Kelly said.

  “Well, of course there is!” Serena said impatiently. “Much more. And there should be much more. You’re the baby in this group, but eventually we all age and our looks fade. What’s important in life is companionship, dreams, ethics! But a great butt doesn’t hurt.”