Pull of the Moon

by Sylvie Kurtz

  “This stops now,” he said. “I want you and your photographer gone first thing in the morning.”

  THE WAY RITA HAD LOOKED at Valerie had spooked Nick. When had things gone so wrong? When had he lost control of the situation? The cold bite of wind cooled his flaming temper and by the time he reached the haven of his house, the urge to hit something had mostly passed.

  A man wasn’t supposed to admit to fear, but fear was the only thing that could explain the quicksand way he’d lost control in front of Rita and Valerie. Only fear could explain why he’d roared like a crazed lion, every primal instinct roused to fight.

  Why he’d acted like his father.

  In that moment when he’d seen Rita reach out to Valerie, he’d realized two things: he’d made a terrible mistake in asking Valerie to play Valentina to give Rita a reason to live, and his mistake had handed his father the tool for his revenge. In that instant, he’d seen the world he’d worked so hard to build and protect crack right before his eyes.

  The tremor of a renewed need to roar growled in his chest.

  If Gordon saw the attachment, if he knew how much Valerie had come to mean to Rita, then he wouldn’t hesitate to use Valerie to hurt Rita. Especially now that Nick had ground Gordon’s scheme to a halt, foiling Gordon’s attempt to lighten Rita’s holdings. Had he really thought Nick would allow him to get to Rita so easily? But then Gordon had always had more confidence than game.

  Valerie was safe inside the mansion. Lionel, Holly and Mike were there. The generator would keep the extra security measures he’d had installed working and give him plenty of notice should anyone try to trespass onto the estate. The local police had promised to deploy a cruiser to patrol Windemere Drive and Valentine Pond Road.

  First thing in the morning Nick was personally going to put Valerie on a plane home. He wouldn’t let her begging eyes, her spew of words or her stubbornness distract him.

  That left Gordon. And that meant putting all the evidence in irrefutable black and white.

  Nick headed directly to his office. He would find the trail of money that led from Carter Stokke back to Gordon. The link was right there in the back of Nick’s mind, itching like poison ivy. One more nail, that’s all he needed to spike Gordon’s coffin shut. As soon as he had that, he could finalize his report and send a copy to each of the Valentine Pond project investors as well as to the police and attorney general’s office. And Gordon would go back behind bars where he belonged.

  At his desk, Nick’s determined fingers spelled out the evidence against his father, but his mind couldn’t help straying to Valerie.

  He’d let her get to him. She was there in his head constantly, haunting him in a way Valentina never had. How could he keep her safe when he couldn’t think straight?

  He raked both hands through his hair and kneaded the back of his aching neck. Then a warm sensation brushed against him. He stiffened and slowly turned in the direction of the window. As if thinking of her had conjured her up, Valerie stood outside, fist poised over his front door. His heart did a loop. As he rose, every nerve in his body sang with anticipation.

  He yanked the door open, letting in the cold wind and her warm scent of ginger. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

  She wrung her hands. “Nick, look, you got everything wrong.”

  “It’s fine. Let me walk you back to the mansion.”

  “I wanted to call you, but Rita insisted I didn’t. Jeez, Louise, she’s an adult. She ought to be able to make her own decisions at this stage of her life.”

  He forced a careless shrug. “I agree.”

  She tilted her head and frowned. “I haven’t done anything to deserve your suspicion. From the beginning, I’ve gone out of my way to be open and honest with you about everything regarding Valentina. You’re the one who keeps shutting me out.”

  “I’ve had to protect Rita for a long time.” And Rita had been the last thing on his mind when he’d roared.

  Valerie blew out a breath. “That’s no reason to bite someone’s head off.”

  “It’s not you. It’s me.” I need you safe. And that need made him too vulnerable. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to lose himself in her. And that wasn’t like him.

  “Nick…it’s okay. You’re allowed to show that you care for Rita. You’re human.”

  More than he wanted. “I can’t get you out of my head.” My blood. My soul. “Do you know what that’s like? To have someone invade your mind when you know you shouldn’t trust her?”

  A pulse of understanding jumped in her eyes, sparking them with a flash of heat.

  He wanted to shut the door on her and walk back into his logical and ordered life.

  But he couldn’t. She had a hold on him he couldn’t explain. The harder he tried to fight that hold, the tighter it wound around him. If he let go, if he gave in, would it set him free?

  She pressed one hand flat against her belly. “I should go.”

  “That would be best.” His voice was harsh, like ice cracking.

  She turned to leave, and the sense of looming horror returned, clawing his chest wide-open. He jerked her against him. What was he doing? Breathless alarm rattled deep in his bones. He didn’t want her to leave. He couldn’t lose her. His grip squeezed her hand tight as if she could simply slip out of his grasp.

  Her fingers dug hard into his shoulders and held on. Her gaze challenged him, but in the dark mirror of her widened pupils, he saw her surrender. She sighed into him. “Nick…”

  The power of that simple act of pure trust rocked through him, destroying what little control he had left. “You should leave.”

  “I think it’s too late.”

  His hands slid into the loose hair that draped over her shoulder, a pale slide of light as erotic as silk on skin. Something about her invited touch, begged him to taste her. As if it had a mind of its own, his mouth came down on hers. An instant flare of need kicked him in the gut.

  Her lips parted. Her body yielded. And his mind gave in to his heart’s ache. “No one’s going to hurt you,” he whispered against her ear. “I promise.”

  “I’m not your responsibility.”

  “Valerie—”

  She put a hand over his lips. “Stop analyzing. I’m starting to believe that some questions don’t have answers.”

  She feathered her lips over his, and her tender kiss spun him dizzy.

  Giving in to temptation was what he’d been avoiding all day. But distance and danger had only served to hone his desire. He kicked the door shut behind her. The heat of her small body wrapped around him. In a ballet as smooth as if they’d been partners forever, they kissed and touched and twirled down the hall to his bedroom.

  Moonlight filtered through the window. Stars dusted the night sky. The soft glow of the lamp from his office warmed the shadows of the room and bathed her skin in soft gold. The spicy ginger of her scent teased him, tempted him to devour. “You’re beautiful and—”

  “Nick…”

  His mouth frantically roamed over her face, her neck, her shoulders. “I hate the way you twist me around.” His impatient hands made short work of the buttons of her blouse and the zipper of her skirt. “I hate the way I want you.”

  “I know.” Her palms spread heat across his skin like wind-fed flames.

  “Tell me to stop.”

  “Don’t stop.” And like kindling, she willingly burned under his touch.

  Objections formed in his throat, but came out torn apart, sparks that flamed hot and died fast. Why object when she wanted this as much as he did?

  All reason, all rational thought became smoke in the night. He wanted her. With an unexpected desperation that only fanned his need, she pulled at his shirt and tugged at his pants.

  The wind stirring the clouds outside echoed the rush of their pulses. The quickening drum against the walls pounded in time to their racing heartbeats.

  He lifted her into his arms, cradling her like the most fragile of Rita’s crystal, then set her dow
n on his bed. “Valerie…”

  “Shh, it’s okay.”

  Not okay. Nothing was okay. The fabric of the world he’d known was coming apart at the seams. He’d wanted her, he realized, from that first day when she’d insisted she belonged at Moongate.

  He took rash pleasure from the firm stroke of her delicate fingers over his chest, the bold brush of her small palms across his hips, the relentless teasing of her lips, and returned each favor with equal fervor. She strained against him, demanding more. And when he thought she was about to flame out, he pushed inside her and set her ablaze all over again.

  She gasped as if he’d touched an inner corner of her never before explored. Her eyes flew open, as blue and brilliant as the heated heart of a flame, and locked into his gaze, pupils wide and deep, inviting him in.

  Her hands came up to frame his jaw. “I’ve been looking for you all of my life.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Valerie’s words shattered through Nick. They shook through his release, nearly tearing him apart. She arched under him, melting into him, her arms locking him to her.

  The roaring in his head matched the fierce hammer of his heart. Valerie’s unsteady breaths pulsed against his neck as he hung on to her, afraid to let her go, afraid to let her see the wildfire of emotions she’d ignited. Furnace-hot, his breath burned into his lungs.

  What had he done? How could she make him feel so much in so little time? He’d been so careful, kept himself under such tight control.

  Unnerved by his weakness, he rolled onto his side, reluctantly breaking the snug bond of her arms. She rolled with him, then looked up at him, reaching a hand toward his. “Hey, where are you going?”

  God, her smile. It dazzled with pure joy and unadulterated hunger, and blazed inside him like a sun. He hadn’t felt so desired, so wanted, so needed in a long time.

  A shock jolted through his system. It couldn’t be true, he couldn’t love her. But he did.

  How could he have fallen for her? It had all happened too fast, too hard. But even as he fought the unworldly strength of this thing raging through him, he bent down to kiss the top of her head as if nothing had happened between them. That small taste of her yielding warmth punched through his system, resparking a desire that should have died to coals by now.

  And just the thought of so much need frightened him.

  He started to push away, but her hand shackled his wrist.

  She frowned. “You’re angry? About this?”

  “I have work to do.”

  “Not tonight, you don’t.” She tilted her head in that way that made him feel as if she could read him too clearly. “This—”

  “Was really nice, but I’m not good at the morning-after goodbyes.” He ripped his gaze from her eyes to avoid seeing the hurt he’d placed there. It was for her own good, he reminded himself. To keep her safe.

  “So you’re just going to go hide until I disappear?”

  He winced at her choice of words. “It’s for the best.”

  Her grip on his wrist tightened. “I don’t date much. Not with the hours my job demands. And this—wow—I’ve never felt like this before. And I know you felt something, too.”

  With a smile tipped with an intriguing mix of promise and vulnerability, she pulled him back down to her. “Running won’t make it go away.”

  Cursing under his breath, he fell into her arms once more—the first place that had felt right in a long while. “Moongate is dangerous for you.”

  “I’m safe right here.” Her smile bloomed again as she snuggled closer to him.

  A caustic stew of longing and dread bubbled in his gut. “In the morning, you have to leave.”

  She shrugged. “In the morning, we’ll see.”

  “Cripes, you don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

  She kissed the hot pulse at his neck. “No.”

  A few more hours. What harm could it do? It wasn’t as if he could stuff her in a plane right this minute. At least by his side, he’d know where she was.

  As he held her tight, he traced the scythe of scar along her right temple, wanting to erase anything that could have ever hurt her. “Where did you get that?”

  “I don’t remember. My mother says it happened when I was three, when I went down a slide headfirst and too fast and landed on a rock.”

  Why hadn’t her mother been there to catch her and keep her safe? He could have lost her tonight. Whoever had attacked her could have taken her and hurt her. What if he couldn’t protect her even if she returned safely home?

  Her hand skimmed his chest and came to rest over his heart. Laughing softly, she burrowed her head in the crook of his shoulder. “Stop analyzing, Nick. We’re not a stock. We just are.”

  Her hand roamed the plane of his chest. His whole body sighed with a frightening contentment. She rolled on top of him, her blue eyes aglow. Flesh connected with flesh, from chest to toe, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted something more, something just out of reach. The echo of a ghost pain, a soft mourning for the something he couldn’t name keened in his chest.

  As he slid into her once again, he realized that he’d fallen for the one woman who would forever remind him of his failure.

  And in the morning, he would have to let her go.

  VALERIE WOKE UP to the pale gray light of a rain-soaked morning filtering through the window and spilling on the disarray of sheets around her, and not an ounce of her usual shame flip-flopped through her mind. Never had everything in the world felt so good, so beautiful, so right, and she wanted to hold on to this amazing feeling for as long as she could.

  To add to her sense of heaven, the scent of coffee drifted in from the hallway. Wearing only black track pants low on his hips, Nick appeared, a tall latte mug in hand. “Big enough?”

  A smile ran away from her as she sat up and accepted the mug with just the right amount of cream. He looked good mussed from sleep. Nothing starched about him at all at the crack of dawn. “Definitely.”

  He squeezed in next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Content, she thought. Like a spring day at the beach—warm, relaxed, comfortable. And she wanted to stay right here and bask in that contentment forever. But Higgins expected his package and she had an interview with Hillary Clark this morning. She’d known from the start this was a stolen night, hadn’t she? Still, what harm would it do to linger over coffee?

  Nick rubbed the knuckles of her free hand with his thumb. The longing in his dark eyes was so raw that it turned the air to pure static electricity. Would he think her too bold if she kissed him and reignited the fire that had burned so hot between them?

  He leaned his head against hers. “I’ve made a reservation for you on the ten o’clock flight.”

  So much for a day at the beach. “I have an eleven o’clock interview.”

  “You’ll have to cancel.”

  More than the logistics of miles, families and careers separated them. Valentina was a mountain as big as Mount Monadnock standing right between them. What if they never found her? Could she live in the constant shadow of a ghost? “I really like you, Nick, and I want the chance to find out where this relationship could go. That can’t happen until we find Valentina. So I’m not quitting until we do.”

  As if Valerie had zapped him with a live wire, he whipped his legs over the side and sat on the edge of the bed, raking a hand through his hair and shaking his head. “She’s been gone twenty-five years. Do you really think you can do anything to change that?”

  Suddenly cold, she reached for the sheet and tucked it over her exposed breasts, then wrapped both hands around the mug and hunched over the steaming coffee. “Yes. The fact that someone tried to scare me away yesterday says we’re getting close to the truth.” Over the top of her cup, she glanced at Nick’s bowed head. “I think you know more than you’re telling me.”

  In his memories—that’s where they’d find the answers.

  He threw her a sharp look over his shoulder. “Talking won’t help
.”

  His combative tone and rigid posture were erecting a barrier between them. Pulse pounding in a mad zigzag, Valerie tiptoed along that craggy ledge, dizzy with the knowledge that every word could pitch her off the last inch of that secure shelf. She didn’t want to risk losing him, but without answers, she didn’t have him anyway.

  “It’s not the talking you’re afraid of.” She kept her voice soft and even. “It’s the old emotions it’ll bring up.” Emotions far too big for one little boy to handle.

  “And you know that how?”

  She tucked a strand of snarled hair behind her ear. “I once did a segment on a psychologist who specialized in memory.”

  “So that makes you an expert?”

  “It makes me someone who’s willing to listen.” Was he afraid of judgment? Afraid she would think less of him for his perceived failure? To her dismay, the chasm of that long-ago night was already growing between them as if what they’d shared on this night had never happened, as if the space of peace they’d found was nothing but a pause while the ghost between them solidified its shape.

  “Memories can be frightening.” Valerie clutched her coffee cup, bracing against the bruise of his distance throbbing through her whole body. “Even the ones we make up. I’ve had a recurring nightmare of being chased in some dark swamp since I was a kid. It comes every time I’m under stress. But when I face it, when I label it, the fear fades.”

  His gaze cut through the window and across the lawn to the blurry gray shape of the mansion, shrouded in rain—then kept going, sliding into a past only he could see.

  Face grimly set, he sat unmoving, breath practically stopped, back muscles hard as granite against her thigh. “I saw the man who took her away. I just lay curled up, frozen.”

  Her heart bled for him. He’d carried a burden much to heavy for a child. “Your silence kept you alive. Would Rita have felt better if you’d been kidnapped, too?”

  “I could’ve done something—cried, yelled, run for help. But I just lay there.” His voice was so flat that it made her blood run cold.