by Mallory Kane
Cade slid his hands up her arms and pulled her closer. Just as his lips touched hers, a shrill buzz pierced the air. She jumped and dropped the dress.
“What—?”
Cade’s fingers tightened on her arms. “It’s just the washing machine. It buzzes when it’s done spinning.”
Laurel’s heart was in her throat. “I’m surprised the neighbors don’t complain,” she said tightly. “I’ll put the clothes in the dryer.”
His jaw muscle worked as he let go of her. “I’ll shower, then you can have the bathroom all to yourself.”
She heard the bathroom door close as she stepped out onto the back porch.
She quickly transferred her now clean lingerie from the washer to the dryer and turned it on.
When she opened the screen door to come back inside, her gaze lit on the mantel over the empty fireplace in Cade’s miniscule living room. There were several photos sitting on it.
The shower was still running. Good. She had a few minutes to look at his pictures before he came out. Although why she felt the urge to be sneaky she didn’t know. They were sitting right there in plain sight. It wasn’t like she was digging into his underwear drawer.
Still, her throat fluttered as she surveyed them. There were several, most in inexpensive frames. She picked up one. It was obviously his mother, and obviously a studio portrait. She was pretty, with the same intense blue eyes as Cade. Laurel thought Cade looked a lot like his dad, but she could see from this picture how much he resembled his mother.
When had she died? The picture had a copyright date from twenty years before. Cade would have been around eleven or so.
She put the photo back and picked up one of James. There was no mistaking that wide, charming grin and the cocky, self-assured look in his eyes. Laurel didn’t remember ever actually looking into James’s eyes, but in the color photograph they were dark—maybe brown.
The next photo was of James with their father. Now those two looked alike. Both had dark hair, both had quick, easy grins and both of them had the look of supreme confidence that she’d always associated with James.
Two or three other pictures of James, including one of him in his Air Force uniform sat on the mantel.
“Where are your pictures, Cade?” she whispered.
At that very moment, the bathroom door opened and Cade stepped out. He had on sweatpants and a towel was slung around his neck. His hair was wet and spiky and his shoulders sparkled with water droplets. She tore her gaze away from his lean belly and looked down at his bare feet. They stuck out from under the sweat pants—bony, sexy, vulnerable.
He took her breath away.
Picking up the corner of the towel to blot a drop that had caught on his eyelashes, he walked over to her. She could smell the soap and the woodsy rain-fresh scent of his shampoo.
“What are you doing?” he asked shortly.
“Looking at your pictures.”
He took the frame from her hands. It was the one of James in his uniform. He studied it for a moment, then set it back on the mantel.
“He was so handsome. I’m really sorry, Cade. I know you must miss him.”
He touched each of the pictures in turn, making small adjustments in their positions as if she’d somehow violated them by moving them. “Yeah. I think about him every day.”
Laurel’s heart twisted painfully. He must have worshipped his older brother. But where were the pictures of him? Surely he had photos of himself with James or with his dad.
But she wasn’t about to ask. Not right now. Maybe never. She was baffled by the waves of disapproval he sent her way. The pictures were displayed for all to see, yet he didn’t want her to touch them.
“You’d better hurry up.” He turned his back on her and headed for his bedroom.
She watched him until he disappeared through the door and shut it firmly behind him. Then she fetched her clean underwear from the dryer and headed for the bathroom.
The experience of showering right after him was comforting, disturbing and confusing. The smell of his shampoo permeated the tiny, steam-filled room, sending her imagination into overdrive. She slathered her hair with her own gardenia-scented shampoo, trying to overpower his scent, and did a pretty good job of it.
Without the scent of his shampoo, she almost managed to banish the image of water sluicing over his chest and abs, running down the seductive curve of his back and over his buttocks, between his powerful thighs—
Okay, stop!
Her knees were quivering, her breasts were aching, as were other, deeper parts of her. She wrenched the water tap to cold and bit her lip at the shockingly chill spray.
By the time she finished, she’d managed to turn her thoughts to her clothes. She decided to wear a pair of black pants and a glittery sleeveless top with black high-heeled sandals.
She wrapped herself in the terry cloth robe that hung on the back of the door, popped out long enough to snatch up her clothes, and popped back inside. It took her fifteen minutes to tame her hair.
This time, when she came out, Cade was waiting for her. His hair was still slightly damp. He wore a white dress shirt, gray slacks and a summer-weight sports coat.
“Ready?” he asked shortly.
He was still upset about her touching his pictures. She wished she could figure out why. “Yes.”
Just as she spoke, her cell phone rang.
Cade frowned and looked at his watch.
She grabbed her purse and dug in it until she came up with the phone. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Laurel? It’s Debra Honeycutt.”
Laurel sent Cade a surprised look. “Debra? Is something wrong?”
Cade’s frown faded and his gaze intensified. He took a step closer and bent his head near her ear until she could feel his breath on her cheek. She tilted the phone slightly so they could both hear.
“I’m so sorry to bother—I need to talk to you.” Her voice quavered. She sounded terrified.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“No—not now. I can’t—”
Laurel heard her suck in a shaky breath.
“Can we—meet some time during the party?”
Cade put his hand on her back and nodded.
“Of course. Where? When? Just tell me and I’ll be there.”
“There’s a side door near the room you used this morning. It leads out—” her voice broke “—out to the path down to the creek.”
“You want to meet at the door?”
Debra hesitated an instant. “No. We can’t be seen. I want to meet at the creek bank, by the Swinging Oak.”
Laurel didn’t relish the idea of walking that path in the dark. It was overgrown and who knew what kind of creatures would be scurrying or slithering around in the dark. She looked at Cade questioningly. He nodded again.
“Look, Debra. We can meet now. I’ll meet you anywhere.”
“It’s still light outside. Please—please, Laurel. This is so important. By eight-fifteen or so it’ll be dark.”
“Okay. Eight-fifteen, then.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you. I can’t live like this any more. Ten years is just too—”
Debra stopped, and Laurel heard a child crying in the background and a man yelling. Then the phone went dead.
THE REUNION PARTY was everything Laurel expected it to be. People who had never spoken two words to her greeted her like old friends, and girls she’d hung out with barely recognized her. A lot of folks seemed to have no idea what to say to each other, so they loaded their plates with food and kept their mouths full.
Because of the drama surrounding Misty’s attack and the fire, or maybe because she was with Cade, she got more than her share of attention. But finally the curiosity waned and she found herself standing near the bar, sipping a glass of chardonnay.
Cade paid the bartender for a beer and then turned to stand beside her. “Do you know all these people?”
“Most of them. There were only sixty or s
o in our graduating class.”
“Got to love small towns.”
She wondered at the note of irony in his voice as her gaze swept the crowd.
“Look.” She gestured with her glass. “There are Kathy and Mary Sue. And Debra’s around here somewhere. Now all they need is Sheryl Posey, and the CeeGees will be reunited.” Laurel sipped her wine as she casually observed the two women. “I’d love to hear what they’re saying. Have you seen Debra?”
“She brought a plate of sandwiches in from the kitchen about twenty minutes ago.” Cade turned his beer bottle up and drank.
“Here she comes.”
Debra hung back from the other two women until Kathy turned and spoke to her. Kathy pointed toward the DJ’s table, then headed in that direction. Debra meekly followed behind her while Mary Sue wandered off through the crowd.
Kathy stopped in front of the DJ’s speakers, the one place in the room where they wouldn’t be overheard.
Kathy was obviously angry. Debra pinched her lips together and looked miserable.
“They’re arguing,” Laurel said. “Do you think she found out Debra called me?”
Cade shrugged. “No telling. Knowing Kathy, she could be upset because Debra brought out a hundred sandwiches instead of a hundred and fifty.”
“You don’t think Debra has any information for me, do you? I think she does. She said ten years is too—something. Probably too long. I think she was saying that she wants to come clean about something from ten years ago. I think she knows what happened to Wendell.”
He shrugged. “Could be. I’m sure she’s got something she feels is important, but I wouldn’t count on it being a big revelation. Debra can be a little excitable. Her husband was late getting home from a business trip several months ago, and she couldn’t reach his cell phone. She wanted me to alert every highway patrolman between here and St. Louis.”
Laurel was still watching the two CeeGees. Kathy snapped at Debra. Debra backed away, then turned and ran. At the same time, the hired DJ tapped his microphone and started his spiel about popular hits from a decade before.
Kathy glared at him as if he’d interrupted her. He ignored her, so she stomped away.
Laurel looked back at Cade. “So was Debra’s husband okay?”
“He showed up within the hour. Said he’d had a flat tire, and his cell phone battery had run down.”
“That might fit with Ann Noble’s revelation about their affair. Maybe he was with her or another woman.”
Cade looked skeptical.
“Still, I can’t take the chance. She might really know something,” Laurel said.
“Speaking of Ann Noble,” Cade replied, “have you seen her tonight?”
“No.” Laurel frowned. “I haven’t. That’s odd.”
“Did she say she’d be at the reunion?”
“I just assumed she’d be here, since she was on the committee. But no. I don’t think she ever said.”
At that moment, music filled the air—a power ballad that everyone recognized, and the lights dimmed and shimmered with color.
A plump, pretty redhead walked up and asked Cade about Misty. She was the latest in a stream of women who’d found a reason to talk to him ever since they’d arrived.
“She’s doing fine. Her parents came in from Florida today. They’re taking her back with them for a visit.”
Laurel watched him. Just like every other time, he was polite, friendly and attentive.
His smile produced a blush more times than not, but his body language sent a different message. He stood balanced on the balls of his feet with his arms crossed. He didn’t bend toward any of the women. He kept his back straight.
The redhead smiled and made a little small talk, but after a couple of silent nods from him, she spoke to Laurel and then drifted away.
Laurel chuckled quietly and took another sip of wine.
“What are you laughing at?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t laughing. I was just thinking how different you are from your brother.”
A grimace flashed across his face, reminding her of the way he’d looked when he found her with James’s picture in her hand.
“Oh, my gosh, Cade. That was a really stupid remark. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. I’m so sorry.”
“Forget it.” He set his beer bottle down and held out his hand to her. “Dance with me.”
“What?” She stared at his hand. “I—I suck at dancing.”
“Well, I don’t. Come on. I’ll cover for you.”
She sent him a withering glance. “Thanks,” she said, “but I’m supposed to meet Debra in a few minutes.”
“In eleven minutes.” He took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. A few other couples were already there, including Kathy and Ralph Langston. Kathy mis-stepped and laughed shrilly.
“Look at them,” Laurel whispered. “Kathy’s laughing, but she looks scared. And look at how tightly Ralph is holding her. Do you think he’s hurting her?”
At that moment, Kathy broke away from Ralph and stumbled. She looked around, spotted her husband who was standing at the bar and headed his way.
Ralph straightened his tie and made a ridiculous spectacle of walking casually off the dance floor.
“Don’t worry about them,” Cade said as he pulled her into his arms and took her right hand in his left. “Now I’ve got you,” he whispered in her ear. “What differences between James and me?”
Laurel’s heart pounded. She tried to hold her body away from his, afraid he’d feel her pulse hammering. But he held her close. “I said I was sorry. It was a thoughtless comment.”
“James has been dead a long time, but people still talk about him. It doesn’t bother me.”
She leaned back and looked at him. “But—”
“But what?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. He was lying. It did bother him. Twice already she’d witnessed the pain that flickered across his face when his brother’s name was mentioned. Why was he so quick to deny his feelings? It obviously hurt him to talk about James.
“I’m not letting you go until you tell me what you meant.”
His palm slid along the waistband of her pants. “Hey, where’s your weapon, Special Agent Gillespie?”
“It’s—” she croaked. “It’s in my purse.”
He bent his head again and his breath was warm on her ear as he whispered, “Well, be sure you can get to it if you need it.”
She closed her eyes against the feeling of his lips so close to her ear. She nodded.
He spread his fingers and slid his palm down to rest just above the curve of her bottom. Her mouth went dry.
“Now, you were about to tell me the difference between James and me.”
“Hmm? Oh.” She cleared her throat. “I was watching how you handled those women.”
He gave her a glimpse of his crooked smile. “Handled them?”
Her cheeks heated up, just like one of them. She swallowed with an effort. “You aim that killer smile at each one and make her feel like she’s the only person in your world—in that way you’re like James. But the whole time you’re charming a woman with your smile and your eyes, your body language is sending a different message. I’m doing my job. Don’t linger.”
His smile turned quizzical and he looked down between them without missing a step. “Is that what my body is saying?”
“Well, not right now—” She clamped her mouth shut. Oh, my. Had she said that aloud?
“Oh, yeah? What’s it saying right now?” he drawled. His hand on her back pressed a little harder. She could feel the brush of his thighs against her, and his crisp white shirt scraping against her breasts was titillating and painful at the same time. She knew she’d regret wearing the little jeweled silk top with no jacket. Her breasts tightened against the thin material.
“Laurel?” He pressed his cheek against her temple and his lips brushed her ear. “Come on. You started this. What’s my body s
aying?”
She took a shaky breath. “You know what I meant.”
“Do I?”
Suddenly she realized the music had changed and nobody but the two of them were still holding each other. She stopped in the middle of the dance floor and pushed him away. “I need to—go find Debra.” She glanced around at the people dancing to the driving rhythm of a metal-rock song. “What time is it?”
He led her off the dance floor. “It’s been thirteen minutes,” he whispered in her ear.
“Thirteen? I’m two minutes late. Debra will be frantic. What are you going to do?”
“What do you think? I’m going to follow you.”
“Well, don’t get too close. If Debra hears or sees you she’s liable to bolt.”
He gave her a brief nod. “I’m heading out the front door. I’ll circle around, and yes, I’ll stay hidden.”
She glanced sidelong at him. “Good. Thanks.”
Laurel exited through the side door onto a concrete landing. A couple of sconces lit a half circle about two feet in diameter, but beyond that the area was cloaked in darkness. She glanced to the left and right. There were similar sconces every twenty feet along the side of the building. The front of the building facing the parking lot was brightly lit. Several people stood around smoking and talking.
Debra had been right about the side door. It directly faced the old path that led down to the creek bank. Down to the Swinging Oak where the rope hung—where Wendell had been found. Laurel stood just inside the circle of light for a few seconds but nobody seemed to notice her. She checked the time on her cell phone. 8:19.
She’d expected Debra to stay close to the building. Even though she’d said she wanted to meet down by the creek bank, Laurel pegged her for the type who’d be afraid of the dark.
But maybe she was wrong. If Debra hadn’t chickened out completely, then she was already on the path to the creek. Laurel had to get going.
The air was heavy and smelled like rain as she started toward the path. Above her the sky was a deep gray. Below, the ground was damp and slick.
