Beverly Barton 3 Book Bundle

by Beverly Barton

  Offering her a halfhearted smile, he nodded. “Good night, Lindsay.”

  “Good night, Judd.”

  Judd hadn’t locked the doors here at the lodge since he moved in, but tonight he did. After all, Lindsay would be sleeping downstairs. He wanted to keep her safe.

  He had thought his protective instincts had died with Jennifer. Apparently, they hadn’t. They had simply been lying dormant.

  But love had died with Jennifer.

  Or had it?

  I’m not in love with Lindsay.

  I want her. I need her. But I don’t love her. If I love anyone, I love Jennifer. On some level, I’ll always love my Jenny.

  But I thought love died with Jennifer.

  He shook his head. Confusion plagued him. He had thought he knew himself, knew his own tormented soul, and had accepted the fact that he was an unfeeling son of a bitch. But Lindsay had reawakened his emotions, had made him reevaluate his life.

  However, one thing had not changed, would never change. A part of him had died with Jennifer. The old Judd Walker had bled to death on the kitchen floor the night he held his butchered wife in his arms. The hull that had remained afterward turned into a vengeful, angry monster, a man who rejected every human kindness. And yet he had taken life-sustaining nourishment from Lindsay’s kindness, her caring … her love.

  Judd went from room to room, turning off the lights, then took the backstairs up to the second floor. His bedroom, the one where he’d slept as a boy and young man when he’d come to the lodge with his family, seemed darker, colder, and more empty than it had at any time since he’d made the place his main residence.

  Knowing Lindsay was downstairs, resting in Mimi’s old bed, a warm fire glowing in the fireplace, created a sense of loneliness in Judd, a loneliness that reminded him he no longer wanted to be alone.

  Day and night. Alone. Lonely. Without human companionship.

  For years now, he had existed from one day to the next, wallowing in self-pity and abject loneliness. It was a life he had chosen for himself and yet it was no life at all.

  He walked over to the window, drew back the curtain and looked down onto the area where Mimi’s garden had once produced not only lilies and marigolds and springtime daffodils, but delicious fresh herbs and an array of vegetables well into early fall. His grandmother and his father had loved the lodge, and even his prim and proper mother had enjoyed an occasional visit to the country.

  He had loved and respected his mother and father, but it had been Mimi who had filled his young life with laughter and wonder. If he listened very hard, he could almost hear Mimi’s laughter. The woman had known how to live, how to squeeze every ounce of joy from the simple things. She had loved her husband, loved her family, adored her only grandchild. When he and Jennifer had talked about having children, he’d told her how much he wished his mimi had lived long enough to see a great-grandchild.

  But there was no great-grandchild. No wife. No future without …

  Jennifer.

  Darling Jenny.

  Would you be jealous if you knew I cared about Lindsay?

  I don’t love her. I don’t know if I’m capable of loving anyone. But Lindsay is important to me.

  After sitting down on the bed, Judd removed his shoes and unbuttoned his flannel shirt. When he wiggled his toes, he glanced down and noticed a hole in his right sock. He hadn’t paid any attention to little things like that in a long, long time. Grinning, he took off his shirt, tossed it to the foot of the bed, then unbuckled and removed his belt. He fell sideways onto the unmade bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  It would be unfair to Lindsay if I went into a relationship with her knowing I could never love her.

  But you do love her, an inner voice said.

  He shot straight up and sat on the edge of the bed.

  Yes, I do love her. But not the way I loved Jenny.

  Jenny’s gone. Lindsay is alive. She’s here. And she loves you.

  Judd got up, walked out of his bedroom, down the hall, and took the backstairs two at a time.

  You have no right to take more from Lindsay than you already have. She loves you. If you go to her, she won’t turn you away.

  Judd came to a crashing halt in the middle of the kitchen, his hands balled into tight fists. He wanted to smash something to smithereens, to vent his frustration on some inanimate object.

  God, he needed a drink. Needed it badly.

  But there was no liquor in the house. He’d gotten rid of every half-empty bottle.

  You can’t get drunk.

  But you can go to Lindsay.

  She understood him, accepted him, and loved him.

  He hadn’t promised her anything.

  Why should he fight what he wanted, what they both wanted?

  He left the kitchen and walked down the hall. When he reached Lindsay’s bedroom, he stopped suddenly, noting that the door stood wide open as if inviting him inside.

  He took a single, hesitant step into the room before he realized that Lindsay was not in bed. She stood in front of the blazing fire, the outline of her body beneath her gown shadowed by the yellow-orange glow. As if sensing his presence, she turned around, looked right at him and smiled.

  Lindsay had known that he would come to her. She had seen the desire in his eyes, had felt it in his embrace, in his kiss. He might not love her, but he needed her, and for now that would be enough.

  “I thought you’d probably be asleep,” he said, his gaze moving over her hungrily.

  “I’m not sleepy.”

  “Neither am I.”

  They stood there, the width of the bedroom between them and simply stared at each other. Judd was in his sock feet and wore only his thermal undershirt and his beltless jeans. He looked delicious. Good enough to eat. All lean, luscious male.

  She wondered how she looked to him. Plain and dowdy in her oversized pink sleep shirt that hit her just above her knees. Her face cleanly scrubbed, her curly hair tousled from combing through it with her fingers. Her feet encased in warm, fuzzy footies.

  “I’m hungry,” he said.

  “You are?”

  “I am.”

  “Do you want to share more milk and cookies?”

  Shaking his head, he took several steps toward her. “I’m not hungry for milk and cookies.”

  “You’re not?” Alive with anticipation, she swallowed nervously.

  “I’m hungry for you,” he told her.

  “Judd …”

  He spanned the space that separated them, and without saying a word, circled her neck with his big hand, lowered his head, and kissed her with an eager passion that matched her own. His other hand splayed open across her lower spine and eased her body into his, her mound against his erect penis. When she gasped, aroused by the feel of him, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth.

  They kissed hungrily, their hands exploring each other. Touching, rubbing, caressing. She helped Judd remove his thermal undershirt. He threw it onto the floor, then lifted her sleep shirt over her head, and dropped it on top of his discarded undershirt. She shivered when the nighttime chill hit her bare skin, and her nipples peaked. He looked down at her, smiled, and cupped her breasts. His thumbs flicked across each nipple, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her.

  “Lindsay …”

  She loved hearing him say her name.

  He knew he was making love to her. This wouldn’t be just having sex for him. Lindsay wasn’t like any of the others. She wasn’t a substitute for Jenny.

  Judd swept her up into his arms and carried her to the massive four-poster. After depositing her in the middle of the bed, he lifted her hips, and yanked her pink bikini panties down, over her legs and off. She lay there quivering, wanting him so badly that she couldn’t bear another minute without him inside her.

  When she held open her arms, he stripped off his briefs and tossed them aside, then climbed into bed. He came down over her, straddling her hips, bracing himself on his elbows as his lower body
pressed into hers.

  “I wish I could make this first time perfect for you,” he told her as he looked into her eyes. “But I want you so much, need you so much …”

  “I don’t need any foreplay,” she said. “Not this time. All I want is you inside me. Right now.”

  Judd grasped her hips and lifted her up to meet his first lunge. When he entered her, she cried out with the sheer joy of having him inside her.

  “I love you,” she whimpered. “I love you so much.”

  “Sweet, sweet Lindsay.”

  He took her in a frenzy of mutual need, hammering into her hard and fast. She moved in unison with him, quickly adapting to the frantic rhythm he set. With each moment that passed, each kiss, each thrust, each countermove, each sigh, each moan, she grew more and more aroused until her body exploded into climatic release only seconds before he came.

  Quivering with fulfillment, she clung to him, kissing his face as she bit her fingers into his tight buttocks. He shook and groaned as his orgasm hit.

  Breathing hard and glistening with sweat, Judd rolled off her and onto his side, then pulled her into his arms. She nestled her head on his shoulder, every nerve in her body singing.

  This was where she was meant to be.

  She was born to love this man and only this man. Now and forever.

  Chapter 27

  The morning sun peered through the seams in the old wooden shutters that closed off the bedroom from the outside world. Shiny, yellow-white fingers of light crept across the wooden floor and room-size rug. The long tendrils spread out from the side and back windows and crisscrossed atop the four-poster bed. The fire had died out sometime in the early morning hours, leaving only glowing embers in the fireplace and allowing the gusting March wind to create a chill throughout the room.

  But Lindsay didn’t feel the cool air on her naked skin. All she felt was Judd’s hot hands and even hotter mouth on her body. Caressing her. Licking her. She shuddered with release when he lapped deeply between her feminine folds, heatedly stroking her clitoris with the tip of his tongue. As wave after wave of pleasure flooded through her, Judd eased up alongside her, kissed her shoulder, and then rolled her over on top so that she straddled him.

  Taking her by the waist, he lifted her up. While the aftershocks of her climax rippled through her, he brought her down over his erection, spearing deep and hard into her. She keened softly as he filled her. When she leaned her body forward, to give him access to her breasts, he immediately took one nipple into his mouth while he tormented the other with his thumb and forefinger.

  He stroked her buttocks as she rode him, the tempo of her lunges steadily increasing. He grunted once, twice, then sucked greedily on her breast as he came. She slowed, then went still. When his shudders ended, he urged her into movement, and with him still semi-erect inside her, she managed to climax quickly.

  Panting, physically drained, her whole body zinging with the aftereffects of her second orgasm, she spread out on top of him, her naked flesh adhering to his with their mutual musky perspiration. He stroked her back, then moved down to her buttocks, his caresses lingering.

  She lifted her head enough to kiss his shoulder from neck to arm before melting into him and sighing contentedly.

  “I could stay right here like this forever,” she told him.

  He chuckled. “We’d eventually get hungry and I’d have to carry you to the kitchen for more milk and cookies.”

  Closing her eyes, she savored the moment, knowing that she could no more make these hours she’d spent with Judd last indefinitely any more than she could actually stop time. During the years she had known Judd, she’d never heard him joke around, never heard the sound of laughter in his voice.

  I might not be his love, but I am his lover. I make him happy. I know I do.

  And she was willing to take what she could get.

  “We don’t have to go to Birmingham,” she whispered, uncertain how he would react.

  “Yeah, we do.” He rolled her off him and onto her back, then leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “We’ve been off in our own private world. Now, it’s time to come back to reality.”

  Sighing, she nodded.

  He caressed her cheek, then kissed her, robbing her of breath.

  When he lifted his head, she looked up at him. “Does reality include the two of us being together?”

  He sat up in the bed. “That depends on what you want … what you’re willing to settle for.”

  Her chest tightened. There would be no declarations of love, no promises of forever after. That was their reality.

  “I’ll take whatever you have to offer,” she told him as she sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.

  He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder while she had her back to him. “You deserve more than I can offer you.”

  “You know that. I know that. But, unfortunately, my heart has a mind of its own.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Then it is what it is. Friendship and sex.”

  Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.

  “Friendship and sex,” she repeated his words.

  “Why don’t you take a shower while I fix us some coffee,” Judd said. “Then I’ll shower while you whip us up some breakfast.”

  Forcing a smile, she glanced over her shoulder. “One night of wild, passionate sex together and you’re already expecting me to prepare your meals. What next, master, fetching your slippers and pipe?”

  Keep things light. Make this easy for him. He’s taken a giant step. Meet him more than halfway.

  Judd chuckled. “I don’t smoke a pipe, so just fetching my slippers will be quite enough.”

  She stood, totally at ease with her nudity. After all, there wasn’t an inch of her body that Judd had not only seen, but touched and explored.

  “I’m going to soak in the claw-foot tub this morning,” Lindsay said. “Bring me a cup of coffee while I’m soaking and I could be persuaded to make French toast for breakfast.”

  “If you’ll make French toast, I’ll not only bring you coffee, but I’ll scrub your back.”

  “Coffee will be enough, thank you. If you scrub my back, you might wind up in the tub with me.” She winked at him as she lifted her overnight bag from the floor at the foot of the bed.

  “I could be coaxed into taking a bath with you,” he told her, his tone playful.

  “If we’re going to make it to Birmingham this morning, we won’t have time for more hanky-panky.”

  He climbed out of bed, gloriously, delectably naked.

  God, she could eat him with a spoon.

  “You’re drooling, sweetheart,” he told her.

  “Can’t help it. You’re gorgeous.”

  He eyed her from head to toe. “So are you. Every sweet inch of you.”

  “Coffee,” she reminded him. “Then breakfast. And after that, we’ll hit the road and you can call Griff while I drive.”

  “You’re a bossy little thing.”

  “That’s nothing new.”

  “Yeah, but my liking it is new.”

  She laughed, hoisted her bag over her shoulder, and hurried out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom.

  Two hours later, after coffee, baths, breakfast, and a quickie on the kitchen table, they locked up and headed toward Whitwell. Soon after hitting Interstate 24, they connected with Interstate 59, which would take them directly to Birmingham.

  While Griff and Powell agent, Maleah Perdue, had checked into the Wynfrey Hotel, Rick Carson had set up meetings at different times with three potential informants. All three worked for the Bessemer PD in some capacity, although only one of them was directly involved with the LaShae Goodloe case. He’d been one of the first patrol officers on the scene when the motel manager had reported a murder in Room Ten.

  Griff had personally telephoned the lead detective, Jeremy Watson, who had been cordial but standoffish at first. But the detective’s attitude had changed when Griff had made comments abo
ut how this really should be Watson’s case, and how unfortunate it was that the FBI had swarmed in so soon and taken over. His subtle hints that working with a female agent like Nic Baxter made a guy look all but emasculated to the press had worked like a charm on the he-man Watson.

  Having a preliminary background check on Lieutenant Watson in his hand as he spoke to the detective gave Griff a definite advantage. It seems that Watson had been married to a man-eating, hot-shot Realtor who had left him for a wealthy client. Strike one against the female sex. And four years ago, he’d been passed over for a promotion, which had gone to a younger officer—a woman with less experience than Watson had. Strike two.

  Griff grinned, knowing that it was highly likely that Nic Baxter’s kick-butt-and-take-names attitude had already pissed off the detective.

  Strike three?

  “Look, Jeremy … I can call you Jeremy can’t I?” Griff asked in his good-old-boy voice.

  “Sure thing. But make it Jere. That’s what my friends call me.”

  “And you call me Griff.”

  “Yes, sir, it would be my pleasure,” Watson said.

  “Well, Jere, it’s like this, I know you can’t officially include me in your investigation and I certainly don’t want to interfere in any way. But us guys have to stick together, don’t we?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “I know Special Agent Baxter is just doing her job—”

  “Yeah, and running roughshod over me and my whole department in the process. She’s even taking over the press conference this afternoon.” Watson grumbled a few choice curse words under his breath. “You know the type. Hell, you know her personally, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I’ve had to deal with her on every Beauty Queen Killer case.” Griff lowered his voice, adding a soft chuckle before he said, “The woman’s a real ballbuster.”

  Watson let out a belly laugh. “Look, I’ve got to go. She and her flunky, Friedman, are motioning for me to join them. They’ve brought in the night clerk from the Triple Eight Motel. Even though I took his statement yesterday, that wasn’t good enough for her. She’s got to question him herself. She won’t learn nothing new. He saw one guy go into Room Ten last night and another guy come out.”