Trove (The Katie Walsh Mysteries)

by KJ Montgomery

  She stood beside him, waiting for him to unlock the door. The tension between them increased with frightening intensity, threatening to send her running away to erect the walls that kept her safe, in control. Before she had a chance to retreat, to run, he led her into his room and closed the door quietly behind them.

  She tensed as she looked around his room. It was just like hers, except for the bed. While hers had two queen-size beds, his was centered around an enormous king-size bed. And the smell—his room smelled like him, a rich mix of spice and sandalwood, with perhaps a hint of musk. She inhaled deeply, imprinting the aroma in her memory.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he whispered, standing behind her, his breath hot against her ear, his hands resting on her hips, as if they’d been made just to fit on her body.

  She hesitated for a moment. If she stopped for a drink, she was afraid she’d lose her nerve. She swallowed and turned to face him, her heart thundering. She placed her palms against his chest and slid them up, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. He let it fall to the floor. She reached up and removed his tie. His scent was driving her crazy. She needed to touch his skin, feel it connect with hers, scorch hers. She reached for his collar then undid the first three buttons on his shirt in rapid succession. Her hands began to tremble with the next one and on the fifth, she grunted softly in frustration.

  He reached down, grasping her hands between his, laying them against his chest. “Easy, easy, KitKat. We have all night.”

  She looked up at him and smiled sheepishly, her skin tingling from his touch.

  He cocked his head. “Are you sure you want to do this?” She tugged her hands, trying to break away, and he released them.

  Her eyes blazed. “Why do you keep asking me that? I’m here, aren’t I?” Her eyebrows edged towards each other. “Or are you giving me the heave-ho?”

  He chuckled. “I’m not the one with the trembling hands, KitKat.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And why do you call me that?”

  He grinned. “You’re the one who said ‘no names.’ I think you’re a bit of a wildcat, but since you’re tiny like a kitten, I opt for KitKat. Or should I call you ‘Woman’ instead?”

  She pursed her lips. “No. Makes it sound like you own me.”

  He laughed. “I get the feeling no one owns you, now or ever.”

  Her face relaxed. “I think I’ll take you up on that drink.”

  “What would you like, a vodka tonic?” he asked as he headed to the minibar.

  She smiled, enjoying the way his body moved, confident, full of strength. Her palms itched in anticipation of touching him. “Yes,” she said as she turned to sit on the end of the bed.

  He fixed her drink and then poured a scotch for himself. He returned to her and handed her the glass, then sat next to her on the bed. “Why do you drink vodka? Most women choose wine,” he asked as he wound a strand of her hair around his finger.

  “Why do you drink whiskey?” she replied as she enjoyed his playful touch.

  “It’s not just any whiskey. It’s actually scotch. Now, answer me. Why do you drink vodka?”

  She sipped her drink and sighed. “I don’t care for the taste of alcohol, so…”

  “You drink vodka, which is rather tasteless,” he finished.

  “Exactly.”

  “Why do you drink if you don’t like it?”

  “I don’t like the taste, but I like the feeling I get after a few. It frees me…”

  “From your inhibitions,” he finished again.

  She inhaled. It was as if he were in her head, reading her mind. “Do you do that all the time, finish other people’s thoughts?”

  “No, not usually. It just seems so… so natural with you.”

  She turned away for a moment and finished her drink in one big gulp. No more talking. She rose, took his glass from him, and set both on the table across the room.

  She returned and stood in front of him, lightly splaying her hands across his chest, sinking her fingers into his luxurious dark chest hair and pulling slightly. She leaned in, nuzzling his neck, nipping his ear. She felt him inhale before she heard him.

  “My little wildcat,” he said, his voice husky. He captured her head in his hands, and gently forced her mouth to meet his as his fingers laced through her hair.

  She freed her fingers from his chest, sliding them up over his broad shoulders, caressing the back of his neck. She moved her thumbs to the hollow behind his ears and began massaging in slow deliberate circles.

  He groaned against her mouth. His tongue traced her soft lips, gently but firmly persuading her to open her mouth for him to explore. Her lips responded to his warmth and opened, inviting him in. Their tongues slowly entwined. There was no need to control, only to enjoy the taste, the feel of each other. He wound his hands tighter into her soft hair, through her curls. She moved closer into him, standing between his thighs, and thrust her breasts against his chest. He moved his hands to her shoulders, and gently pushed her away, breaking contact. She whimpered in protest. He stood, causing her hands to drop from his body. He shrugged his shirt off.

  She licked her lips as her eyes feasted on him. He was gorgeous. His broad shoulders framed his muscled chest. She could see the ripples through his silky chest hair, teasing her as it narrowed down to his hips and disappeared below his waistband. She stepped closer and reached over, undid his belt and the button. She inhaled slowly, stopping to look up at him. His grey eyes smoldered with intensity, encouraging her to continue.

  He placed his hand on the back of her head, gasping when she ran her hand lightly over the bulge in his crotch. “Damn, that feels so good.”

  She teased him, deliberately taking her time unzipping his slacks. She tilted her head back, catching his smoky gaze. She smiled seductively and was rewarded when his body responded. He groaned as her hand brushed up against him. She pushed his slacks down off his hips, where they pooled at his feet, leaving him covered only by his tented boxers. She knelt down and ran over hands over his taut calves before slipping his shoes and socks off. She tossed his clothes away and stood. He cupped her chin with his hand, and looked into her eyes. “I think, KitKat, someone is overdressed.”

  “Not my fault,” she answered, her voice breathy. She stroked him through his boxers then reached for the waistband. “I’ve been busy, preoccupied with the matter at hand.” He grabbed her hand, stopping her advance. “Dammit.” He inhaled. “Turn around.”

  She pulled her hand free and spun around.

  He laughed. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Mm, yes,” she replied, kicking off her heels. With that small act, she dropped four inches.

  “Lord, you are tiny.” He chuckled.

  “Excuse me,” she corrected softly, “but the term is petite, not tiny.”

  He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “Pardonnez-moi, ma petite chérie,” he murmured as he slid her zipper down then pushed her dress off in one fluid motion.

  She stepped out of her dress and turned to face him. She was wearing her lilac lace bra and matching lace panties. She slowly lifted her eyes, watching him as his gaze swept over her body, his eyes smoldering like embers from a fire threatening to erupt into a raging inferno.

  He bent down and scooped her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head in the valley between his neck and shoulder. His scent was strong there and she nuzzled him, trying to transfer his scent to her skin. It was driving her into a frenzy.

  He laid her gently on the bed, splaying her hair across the pillows, and knelt above her. He sat back on his heels and traced his fingers up each leg, over her hips, moving up onto her stomach, skirting her breasts. She grasped each of his hands in hers, trying to move them to her breasts as she thrust them towards him. He laughed softly, taking her hands and pinning them over her head. “Not so fast. I’m getting to know your body.”

  “You’re torturing me,” she hissed softly, writhing under h
im, but he had her pinned between his knees, squeezing slightly to reinforce his words. She mewled in protest.

  “Just wait, my little wildcat. I’ll have you purring soon,” he said just before he leaned forward and suckled her bottom lip.

  And purr she did… all night long.

  ****

  He stood in the doorway watching her stretch. Like a wildcat, he thought. Like KitKat did that night. He studied her face as different emotions appeared and disappeared. What the hell was she thinking about? She was complicated, he’d give her that. He sensed that five years ago and now, she seemed more so. He hadn’t a clue as to what made her tick. How was he going to reach her, bind her to him until he got what he needed? This was getting way too complicated.

  He exhaled and smiled as he saw her expression change to one of… he knew that expression. He’d seen it spread across her face many times that night. Her breathing was shallow, somewhat unsteady. She was aroused. What the hell was she thinking about, or who, he wondered. He shifted against the doorframe as he watched her arch her body. Damn, he wanted her, feeling the tightness in his groin. And this time he wanted her for more than one night.

  Her eyes opened and connected with his. He saw her desire burning through the hazel green hue.

  “Mm,” she said dreamily, “did you want something?”

  He could tell she was still under the influence of whatever she’d been thinking of. “I think I could use a cigarette,” he replied hoarsely.

  She blinked and he knew the control was slipping back in place. He could actually see it on her face, her expression tightening as her gaze focused on him. She straightened in the chair. KitKat was gone, pushed into the shadows. Dr. Walsh was back and in charge.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know where you just were, Katie, but I sure as hell could feel your…” Her face turned deep crimson. He loved that she couldn’t control that part of her.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Alec?” she asked, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear.

  “I came to ask you if you’d let me take you out to dinner tonight. I want to apologize for my behavior earlier on the wharf.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t blow me off, Katie. I’m really trying to make this work between us.”

  “I’m not blowing you off, Alec. Contrary to popular belief, I do have some life outside of the Institute. I’m having dinner with my friend Willie tonight.”

  “Change it.”

  “No. How about lunch tomorrow or dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Can’t. I have back-to-back meetings from eleven to three and I have a company function tomorrow night. How about Wednesday night?”

  She shook her head. “Can’t. I’ll be on my way to Willowton.”

  He strode to her desk, braced his arms on the front edge, and leaned over. He was inches from her. “You’re leaving?”

  She leaned back and nodded. “Yes,” she said softly, “for a few days of research.”

  He leaned closer, catching the light, sweet, feminine scent of her shampoo. “Running away again, KitKat?”

  “No, and please stop calling me that. This trip was approved months ago.”

  “Why wasn’t I informed?”

  She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. It should’ve been on your calendar.” She placed her fingers along the desk edge in front of her and pushed back slightly. “Look, I’ll be back on Monday and I promise I’ll work on the runes while I’m away. It’s not like there’s a lot of social life there. My nights will be free. I should have a fairly decent translation by the time I get back.”

  “You’ll be reachable?”

  “Yes, except I’m not sure about the plane. I have the luxury of flying on the Nordstrom jet, but I don’t know if I’ll have phone or internet service. But other than that, I’ll be searching through documents at the estate. I’ll keep my cell phone with me.”

  He ran his hand through his hair and hesitated as his mind began to piece together a plan. He turned to face her. “I guess I can live with that since I know you wouldn’t lie to me.” He leaned over the desk, his mouth inches from hers. “Would you, KitKat?”

  She swallowed, her eyes glued to his lips. “No,” she whispered, “I don’t lie.”

  ****

  After spending hours studying the runes, Katie concluded that there was something missing, something she wasn’t understanding. These runes are not right, she thought. Clearly they were runes, but she needed more context, needed to know exactly where they were found and when. If she could find any pictures of the original source, not just the pictures of the individual runes that were in the dossier, she might be able to understand what she was looking at. Right now the meaning was incomplete. Were these some sort of code? Rune translations didn’t work that way.

  “Hi. Got a minute?” Laura asked.

  “Sure, come in. What’s up?”

  “Just wanted to drop the results off. I’ve identified a few tangents but I have to dig some more before I can tell if they’ll pan out.”

  Katie nodded. “Thanks. I just love the thrill of the mystery, trying to uncover what the author was really trying to convey.” She smiled. “It’s sort like personality profiling. I have to try and get into some guy’s head and we don’t speak the same language.”

  Laura cleared her throat. “Speaking of digging…”

  Katie looked up. “I didn’t know we were.”

  “We never got to finish our discussion at lunch.”

  Katie sighed, the trace of a wistful smile forming at the corners of her mouth. “What do you want to know? I told you most of the details a long time ago.”

  Laura pulled a chair over and sat facing her. “You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”

  “It’s complicated, Laura. He’s my boss.”

  “So?”

  “It would be professional suicide.” Katie massaged the back of her neck. “I showed a complete lack of judgment that night.”

  Laura frowned. “So what if you hooked up with him that night. You didn’t know he’d eventually be your boss.”

  Katie stood and walked around her office. “Laura, look at this from an overall picture. Granted, my sleeping with him for one night isn’t the issue.” She took a deep breath. “What is a problem is that I picked up this guy, didn’t know a damn thing about him, didn’t want to know actually.” She sat back down. “He could have been a serial killer, a married man.” She sighed. “He could’ve been a slave trader. The point is I was reckless. I went to his room. Quite literally, that could’ve been the last few hours of my life. I could’ve disappeared and no one would know where I went or when for that matter. No one even knew I was at that hotel.”

  Laura leaned forward, her brows drawn tight. “I think I get it. If someone, say Lucy Millar, found out, she’d force the issue of responsibility and decorum with Dr. Austin and we know he doesn’t like any hint of scandal. He’s so protective of the Institute’s reputation. At the very least, she’d spread the tale like wildfire…”

  Katie nodded. “And my career here would be over.” She grimaced. “And the rumors would likely follow me wherever I went. People would focus on my clear lack of judgment, my irresponsibility. It wouldn’t matter what my accomplishments were. I’d be tainted by the rumors and innuendo. You know how insular and unforgiving the research community is. No one would take me seriously. I’d just be an object for ridicule.”

  Katie tapped her fingers nervously. “I’m so afraid, that with him so close, I’m liable to lose control. In the short time since he’s reappeared, I feel like I’m waking up from a deep slumber. He’s stirring up emotions that are so foreign… I don’t know what I might end up doing, and that scares me, Laura.”

  “Do you think he feels something for you?”

  Katie shrugged then frowned. “Maybe, but quite frankly, Laura, I don’t know a damn thing about him, except that there’s a lot more going on than he’s telli
ng.”

  R

  Chapter Four

  Willie Jones was waiting for her, groceries in hand. Though she’d given him a key to her condo, Willie would never enter without her being there. Katie guessed he was somewhere over forty, but not by much. He stood five-ten, two hundred pounds, stocky, muscular build, with a noticeable Boston accent, constantly dropping the final ‘g’ on words ending in ‘ing’ and turning any ‘r’ into an ‘h.’ He was unnaturally bald. As he explained to her once, he started shaving his head when he was on tour in Iraq during the first Gulf War. It was easier to keep the vermin out. It was clear Willie didn’t take crap from anyone or anything, vermin included.

  “I’m starving. What’s for dinner?” Katie said.

  “Well, ‘hello’ to you too.”

  “Sorry. That was rude,” she said as she reached up and he tilted his head down so she could kiss his cheek. “Hello.”

  “Much better.”

  “So what’s for dinner?”

  “Nothin’ fancy tonight just spaghetti with marinara sauce.”

  “One of my faves. Did you get any bread?”

  “No, I was hopin’ you wouldn’t mind gettin’ some.”

  “Be right back,” Katie said as she headed out the door.

  Twenty minutes later she was back. As she neared her door, she noticed an envelope propped on the door knob. The envelope was heavyweight paper, the kind used for formal invitations. She plucked it off the door knob and went in.

  “I got the bread and a half dozen mini-cannoli. Mm, that smells sooo good.”

  Willie stirred the sauce, took a teaspoon and sampled it. “Just about ready.”

  She flew around the kitchen gathering the plates and serving ware. As she was placing the napkins on the table, she spied the envelope where she’d apparently dropped it on the floor.

  “Willie? Did anyone knock on the door while I was out?”