Final Words

by Teri Thackston

  Feeling a warm breeze against her face, Emma turned into it. Straightening, she drifted around the column and into the moonlit night.

  Several couples took advantage of the fair weather and music, dancing or wandering arm-in-arm along landscaped pathways below the terrace. Watching them and thinking unexpectedly of Jason, Emma experienced a surge of loneliness. She’d seen a few folk she knew from the police department so she assumed that Judge Daly had invited the detectives too. He and his partner, Charlie Garcia, might be here.

  But what did it matter? She didn’t want to get involved with another man yet.

  That excuse is getting old.

  The breeze lifted strands of hair that had worked loose from her chignon. Leaning back against the column again, feeling the cool stone against her bare shoulder blades, Emma closed her eyes and lifted her face to the breeze. It whispered against her skin, perfumed with azaleas and a hint of…

  Old Spice?

  She opened her eyes and caught her breath. Jason stood beside her, one shoulder leaning against the column in imitation of her stance. A black string tie brought an air of casualness to his black suit and stark white shirt. That warm breeze ruffled his thick hair and carried his scent to her again.

  “Hello,” he said quietly.

  Broad shoulders, a sexy tilt of his lips, that silky male voice… Emma’s heart muscle seemed to tighten like a fist.

  “I thought you might like to know we found the gun that killed Amalia Campanero,” he said.

  “That’s…great.” Clearing her throat, she shifted her weight so that she stood a little straighter. Light fell more evenly over his lean face and she was startled by the sharpness in his expression. The intensity of his gaze made heart beat faster.

  “Were you able to connect it to her brother?” she asked.

  “We matched four fingerprints from the gun to him. And we found a shirt in the dumpster with the gun. It has bloodstains that match Amalia’s blood along with male sweat that should match Campanero’s DNA. There was a footprint too, that matched the shoes he was wearing when we arrested him. But that’s just icing on the cake. We’ve formally charged him with murder.”

  Relief bolted through her. Amalia Campanero would get her justice. “I’m glad.”

  He stood silent for another moment, his gaze locked with hers. “You are glad, aren’t you?” he murmured. “For the victim’s sake.”

  Emma swallowed. “Of course.”

  Shifting away from the column, Jason straightened so that he stood over her. Gold shards glittered in his eyes as he looked down at her dress. His expression was different now, not so much sharp as it was hungry. And it stirred an answering hunger in her.

  Apparently he was thinking, as she had been, about that near kiss on the beach last night. Emma was glad that he hadn’t taken advantage of her vulnerability at the time. She was glad she still had something to look forward to.

  “There’s only one word to describe how you look tonight, Dr. St. Clair,” he finally, quietly, said.

  Emma was almost afraid to breathe. “What word is that?”

  His gaze caressed the length of her body. “Hot.”

  The word echoed its own definition through her body. Or maybe the heat in his eyes sent that breath of warmth coursing through her. Like smoke, it curled around her inner organs until she feared she might melt.

  He stepped in closer. His left hand touched her right hip. She stared up at his mouth, so close to her own that his breath stroked her flesh. Some distant part of her mind realized they were swaying together in time to the music.

  “Dance with me,” he whispered and before she could think, his hands settled on her waist and he pulled her close.

  He turned her away from the column and the lights that spilled from the ballroom. Emma knew that other couples strolled or danced across the stone floor but she saw only Jason. Saw the desire in his eyes, felt the possessive grip as his arm slid around her waist. And the way their bodies moved so perfectly together… She hadn’t been aware of so much in a long time. She hadn’t felt so right in even longer. Heart pounding, she eased closer to him.

  Desire sparked off the gold in Jason’s eyes. He lifted her right hand and placed it against his neck, then slid his hand down her bare arm, tickling lightly along a path to her waist. That hand slipped around to join his right. No longer a simple dance, this was a floating embrace. Drawing her closer still, Jason lowered his head. Emma expected his kiss and her eyelids flickered downward. She didn’t care anymore whether or not she should give in to what she wanted. Some primal part of her insisted that wanting had its place. This place. Right now.

  She lifted her face and his mouth found hers. Soft at first and yet powerful. Hungry.

  Pleasure speared her with each movement of his lips and she pressed closer, wanting more, needing more, demanding more as she’d never done before tonight. She shifted both of her hands around under his jacket to touch the back of his white shirt. Damp heat seeped through the cloth. His hands moved too, down her back to her hips and around to cup her bottom, to hold her closer against his—

  Nearby, a woman coughed with mock delicacy. Jason growled low in his throat and lifted his lips from Emma’s even as he drew his hand upward.

  “Good evening, Ms. Zamora,” he said gruffly.

  Rousing slowly from her daze, Emma looked to her left and saw her friend standing a few feet away. Marta smiled but Emma recognized the falseness of the expression.

  “Emma, could I speak to you?” Marta asked.

  “We’re kind of in the middle of something,” Jason said. His grip on Emma shifted so that he held her almost possessively against his side. “Could you speak to her later?”

  Marta glared at Jason. “It’s important.”

  Emma knew exactly what her friend wanted to talk about. She also knew that Marta wouldn’t leave until she’d had her say.

  A blush warmed her face as she drew free of Jason’s grip. “I’ll be right back,” she said, offering him a smile as she took the few steps to Marta.

  Catching Emma’s arm, Marta whisked her toward the ballroom. “What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered after they’d moved inside.

  Heat rose higher in Emma’s face. “We were just dancing.”

  “That was more than dancing. Another few seconds and I’d have had to call the vice squad.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Marta tugged Emma around the column and took a deep breath before whispering, “You’re a big girl, Emma, so I can’t tell you what to do. But as your friend, I advise you to steer clear of Casanova there. Don’t let your hormones blind you to his true nature.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who’s blind to his true nature.” Leaning around the column, Emma looked at Jason, who waited where she’d left him. Hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers, he gazed back at her with heated eyes. That expression sent a thrill bolting through her. With difficulty, she turned to Marta again. “He isn’t what you think he is.”

  “How could you know?” Disappointment darkened Marta’s eyes. “Oh no. Is that where you were last night? With him?”

  Emma’s temper flared, driving the blush higher up her face. “I am a big girl, Marta. I don’t have to check in with you on what men I see.”

  Marta opened her mouth to reply but then shut it abruptly. Her gaze shifted beyond Emma’s left shoulder. Sympathy swept into her eyes.

  Dread knotted Emma’s stomach as she turned to look behind her. Across the terrace, wearing a smile that lit his handsome face, Jason danced with a beautiful raven-haired woman. Danced wasn’t exactly the word. It was more like a moving embrace. It was—very friendly.

  “Didn’t take him long, did it?” Marta murmured. “You see what I mean?”

  Emma didn’t realize she was swaying until Marta caught her arm and led her to a nearby chair.

  “Take a deep breath,” Marta said, positioning herself between Emma and the opening to the terrace. “You’ll be okay.�
��

  Emma took that breath but it didn’t stop her heart from throbbing. “I feel like an idiot,” she said thickly.

  Marta stroked a hand over Emma’s hair. “You didn’t really expect that leopard to change his spots just because you slept with him, did you?”

  “I haven’t slept with him. I just—” Emma shook her head. She didn’t want to admit—not even to her best friend—that she’d just proven that divorce hadn’t improved her judgment a bit. She didn’t want to admit that she’d been fooled by a man again. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  A shadow fell over her face. Emma looked up through unshed tears to see Detective Charlie Garcia standing before her chair.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he said. “The two of you looked thirsty sitting over here all alone.”

  “Thank you.” Emma took the glass of wine that Charlie offered, although a sip of water would have been more helpful to her at that moment. Or a bucketful right in her hot, red face. If he noticed the tears in her eyes, he was gentleman enough not to comment.

  “Thanks, Charlie.” Marta took the other glass. Her friendly tone sounded forced. “It’s nice to see you here.”

  “When my wife saw the invitation, I had no choice but to accept.” His charming smile encompassed both women. “Veronica loves to dress up. And doesn’t she look beautiful?”

  Seeing the direction of his gaze—through the opening to the terrace—Emma almost didn’t look. But the surprised guilt in Marta’s eyes encouraged her to peer around the Grecian column toward the dancers on the terrace. Her gaze immediately honed in on Jason and his beautiful partner. As Jason turned her to face them, the woman smiled and waved in their direction. Charlie returned the wave.

  “I should bring Veronica to more of these functions,” he said, pride warming his voice. “She loves to dance.”

  “That’s Veronica?” Marta darted that guilty glance back at Emma. “She’s certainly changed since I saw her last. I didn’t recognize her.”

  “She’s dedicated herself to her health in the past year.” Charlie chuckled. “She was beautiful before, of course. But those pre-dawn runs were worth having my sleep disturbed, after all. Just look how well she dances even with a clumsy buffalo like Jason.”

  Emma listened with only half her attention. Jason wasn’t dancing with just some woman but with Charlie’s wife. And Charlie was happy about it.

  That suddenly made a big difference in how Emma felt about Jason MacKenzie. A very big difference.

  It made a difference in how she felt about herself too. Like mercury, her self-confidence returned. She’d been so willing to believe all the stories about Jason because she hadn’t been willing to trust her own instincts. And that had been the very thing she’d been afraid she couldn’t do. Now, she wanted to go with her own gut. And her gut told her that it might be time to start believing in the man. And in herself.

  “You’re a wonderful dancer.” Veronica smiled up at Jason as the music ended. “But I’m not nearly as graceful as the woman you were dancing with earlier.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself, Ronnie.” He squeezed her hands as she backed away. “You’re the best dancer here.”

  “I am certainly lighter on my feet than I was a year ago.” She ran her fingertips over her flat stomach and smiled wider. “But I suppose it is all in the fit, eh?”

  Confused, Jason frowned. “I’m sorry?”

  Mischief twinkled in Veronica’s dark eyes as she glanced toward the ballroom. Jason understood immediately what she was implying. The lady was as dedicated a matchmaker as her husband. And almost as obvious. She inclined her head toward where Emma and Marta stood with Charlie just inside the ballroom.

  “She fits your embrace better than I do,” Veronica said.

  Watching Emma as she sat talking to Marta and Charlie, Jason admitted to himself that Veronica was right. Emma’s body fitted against his as if he and she were two halves of the same being. And her mouth… The fit of that kiss…

  He’d looked for her tonight with the intention of finding out more about her odd behavior that morning. But when he’d seen her walk out of the ballroom and lean against that column, when he’d seen the want in her eyes—want for him—all his plans had gone to cinders.

  Emma looked his way and her eyes seemed to sparkle just for him. Was she thinking about that kiss too? Was she waiting for the moment when she could join him and they could pick up where they’d left off? His body hardened at the thought.

  “I should go inside and call the babysitter.” Veronica rose on her toes to plant a kiss on Jason’s cheek. “Then I suppose I will see how I fit my husband’s embrace for a tango. You are coming out to the house tomorrow afternoon, aren’t you, Jason?”

  Emma rose and started back toward him. Her eyes were still shining. She was still smiling.

  Veronica tugged on his lapel. “Jason?”

  He glanced down at her. “Right, Ronnie. Tomorrow.” He looked back at Emma and only vaguely heard a feminine chuckle as Veronica walked away.

  He tucked his hands in his pockets. His palms grew damp. His heart pounded. He felt as if he’d never been on a date before.

  Not that this was a date. This was just a chance—okay, intentional—meeting that had somehow blossomed into something more. A meeting that promised something more.

  Emma drew closer. He wanted nothing more than to claim her mouth again and feel her surrender.

  She stopped, smile faltering as she looked down at the small purse dangling from her wrist. Across the few yards that separated them, Jason heard the shrill tones of her pager and his hopes sank.

  Drawing the pager from the tiny purse that dangled from her wrist, Emma looked down at it and then continued toward Jason. Tucking away her page, she put her smile back on but it was a shade less brilliant. “Sorry about that,” she said as she reached to him.

  “No problem,” he managed to say.

  “Marta had some questions about a case.” She clasped her hands behind her. “And then Detective Garcia came by to say hello. I understand that was his wife you just danced with.”

  “Yes. That was Veronica.” Jason took a deep breath and pulled himself together. “Would you like to meet her?”

  She lifted her small bag. “I just got paged by the ME on duty.”

  Fear confirmed, Jason nodded and tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You have to go?”

  “Car accident. Multiple victims, I’m afraid.”

  “Maybe we can get together afterward.”

  “I’d like that,” she softly replied but shook her head and started to back away. “But we’ll probably be quite late.”

  Jason took a step after her, reaching but not quite touching her arm. He had to save this moment. It couldn’t end so abruptly. Not when it had held such promise moments earlier.

  “I’m going to Charlie’s house tomorrow,” he said quickly. “He’s great on the grill. I mean, he’s great at grilling chicken. Would you like to come? You could meet Veronica then. And their son Ricci.” When she opened her mouth to answer, Jason panicked at the thought that she might turn him down. “It’s just a few friends getting together for a Sunday afternoon barbecue. We can talk about your case.”

  Those little lines formed across her brow again and he could tell that she was turning over the notion in her mind. The notion of risking her heart so soon after her divorce. She wanted to take the risk. Her kiss had told him that.

  God, he hoped he was right, because just thinking about that kiss ratcheted up his desperation. Say yes, he thought, fingers of fear squeezing his heart. Please say yes.

  Emma smiled. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  “Great.” Elation swept through him, erupting in a grin. “I’ll pick you up at four.”

  “All right,” she said softly. “Four o’clock.”

  Still smiling, she turned and walked back toward the ballroom.

  Joy lifted Jason’s heart when she half turned to give him a last glan
ce and he managed to forget that she might be half crazy.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Garcia family welcomed Emma warmly. Veronica, a lovely woman with kind, chestnut eyes and a gentle manner, graciously accepted the potted chrysanthemums that Emma had brought. Charlie dragged Jason outside to show off his new gas grill in the small, lushly landscaped backyard. Ricci, the Garcia’s seven-year-old child, proved he was his father’s son by immediately putting on the charm. He drew out a chair in the gaily colored kitchen for Emma and then made sure she had a small plate of the guacamole he had helped his mother make. At Emma’s grateful smile, Ricci blushed and then grabbed a Frisbee and ran out the back door to join the men.

  “The girls in the second grade had better watch that one,” Emma commented as Veronica smiled after her son.

  “He is a charmer,” Veronica agreed. Rising on her toes, she reached to lift down a stack of plates from a cabinet near the sink. “Little girls are already calling him on the telephone.”

  “I’ll bet he’s popular at birthday parties.”

  “Absolutely.” Veronica set the plates on the kitchen counter and then took off her avocado-stained apron. “Come. Let’s sit outside and watch the boys play.”

  Moments later, Emma and Veronica sat on a cushioned wooden swing on the back deck while Ricci and the men threw the Frisbee across the wide yard. Charlie’s new gas grill sent waves of heat into the evening air and the scent of grilling chicken wafted around them.

  “I have never seen Jason smile so much,” Veronica commented as she gently pushed the swing with one foot. “You’ve made a wonderful difference in his life, Emma.”