by Ana Leigh
“Dave!” His name escaped in a blissful cry that shattered the last vestige of his control.
His chest ached from the throbbing of his heart in the long moments it took to restore his breathing to a steady rhythm. He raised his head, cradled it on a propped elbow, and stared down into the warm luster of her deep blue eyes.
“We haven’t lost it,” she murmured in wonderment.
He grinned tenderly. “Did you think we had?” he asked, and gently cupped her face in his hand.
Her eyes misted. “After six years I began to wonder if it always was like this or just my memory torturing me.” She tenderly brushed back some strands of hair from his forehead.
“Why would we ever lose it?” He settled back down and pulled her to his side.
She sat up and leaned over him, her eyes beseeching as she pleaded for his understanding.
“Dave, my marriage was the most dishonest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’m not proud of it. For the first time in years, I feel honest in a relationship. You make me feel that way, so I made up my mind I will settle for whatever you’re willing to give me. And I still intend to do that. But I won’t deceive you, Dave. I love you. No matter what I tried to tell myself to the contrary, I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, and I’m old-fashioned enough to believe that you marry the person you love. You have his children. And that is my intent.
“I’ll not ask any more of you than you’re willing to give, I’ll be content for us to be lovers to give you the time you need to adjust to the idea. But, David Cassidy, one of these days we are going to get married.”
He pulled her down again against his chest and hugged her tightly for a few seconds. She responded with a drowsy yawn.
Dave rolled over, pinning her to the bed with his weight. For a long moment he stared down intently into her trusting and loving eyes.
“I love you, too, angel.” Then he gently kissed her swollen lips.
He lay back again, cradling her head against his chest. Within seconds, her steady breathing told him that she had dropped off to sleep.
Unconsciously, he cradled her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of the tousled head that lay on his shoulder. His thoughts drifted to the passionate sex they had just shared.
From the time they’d met, they’d had great sex together. Always torrid, spontaneous and satisfying. Their separation and the events leading up to it had turned it this time into the most intense fulfillment they had ever shared.
But that didn’t alter the obstacle that stood in the path of their marrying. How was he to convince her of that?
As soon as he was certain Trish was deep in slumber, Dave slipped out of bed and pulled on his shorts. Then he gathered up the rest of his clothing and the sheathed .22 he’d put on the nightstand when he had stripped. Grabbing a pillow, he left the room, closing the door quietly so he wouldn’t wake her.
If he continued to lie there beside her, he knew he would reach for her again. He was finally free from the physical tension that had gripped his body for six years. That’s what Trish could do to him. Whenever they had sex, it seemed as though their souls as well as their bodies became one—a mental as much as a physical effect on him. It had been that way from the first time he’d made love to her.
But this time it was different. His conscience cried foul. He’d misled her. By making love to her tonight, he’d given her a false hope that they could pick up where they left off. It couldn’t happen. They would never know happiness as long as Henry Hunter stood between them. She was in such denial about her father that nothing he could say or do could change it.
He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. Time and time again he had challenged himself with the belief that maybe her accusation was true. Maybe it was jealousy or resentment on his part toward her father. If so, those were emotions that could be overcome rather than lose her. But they weren’t the reasons he loathed the man. Henry Hunter purposely deceived the one person in the world who trusted and loved him unequivocally—his daughter. And when the truth was exposed, she would bear more shame and heartache over his guilt than that sonofabitch ever would.
And, regrettably, he would have to add to that heartache, because once again, he would have to try and make her understand that the reason that once had forced him to leave her still existed.
He fell asleep with that distressing thought on his mind.
Chapter 14
Trish kissed him awake. He opened his eyes. She was sitting on the edge of the couch leaning over him. Sunshine was streaming through the windows.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.”
He wove his fingers through the thick strands of her hair to lower her mouth to his. The kiss was slow and drugging, the kind of kiss that turns on your motor and waits until you shift into drive to see where you want to go with it. He found out when she took over the wheel.
Trish could do more with a kiss than any woman he’d ever known. Within seconds his groin was on fire and he had to have more.
He knew the pitfalls of making love to her again. It was rotten. Unfair to her. Would only make saying goodbye more difficult when the time came.
But good sex was like an avalanche, once it started rolling downhill it picked up speed, and there was no stopping it until it hit bottom—and sex with Trish was always good sex.
Besides, what better way to start off the day than getting rid of some sexual tension?
He rolled over and shifted her to her back, then resting on his elbow, he raised his head and looked down at her. She was breathing hard and her eyes were wide with expectation as she awaited his next move.
When they toppled off the couch her belted robe had parted enough for him to glimpse her nakedness beneath it. His hand stroked the satin flesh of her as he widened the gap in the front panels. For the briefest of moments he gazed greedily at the luscious, bountiful feast stretched out to appease his starved appetite. Breakfast time.
He lowered his head.
Later he stretched out his body. The firm floor felt good.
“Dave, wouldn’t you rather go in and lie on the bed? It’s much softer.”
“I like it hard. It feels good.”
“I like it hard, too.” Then she chuckled delightfully and leaned over him. Her eyes were twin pools of devilment.
“Trish, I’m talking about the floor.”
Her warm chuckle again caused him to grin. “You are shameless, woman.” He tightened his arm around her and drew her closer.
Trish laid her head on his chest. “I have no shame where you’re concerned, my darling. Do you know that the whole time you were gone I’d lie awake at night thinking about you. I told myself again and again that if only I’d known it was the last time we’d ever make love, I never would have stepped out of the shower that day we argued.”
Her words were a grim reminder of what still lay ahead for them. He had to change the subject. He stood up and pulled her to her feet.
“You know, for two so-called intelligent people we’ve been pretty careless. We’ve had sex several times without using any protection. You’re still on the pill, aren’t you?”
“No, I haven’t been since you left.”
“Trish! You could get pregnant.”
“Nothing would please me more. I want to have your child, Dave.”
“My God, Trish, what about the danger of contracting—”
“Dave, I haven’t had sex with any man except Robert, and that was two years ago. I had myself checked for any diseases when I left him.”
“Did it occur to you that I could be a carrier?”
“I knew you weren’t.”
“I know I’m not either, but you had no way of knowing that.”
She cupped his face between her hands. “Of course I knew. You’re a man of conscience, my love, and if you were HIV positive—or had any social disease for that matter—you would have used protection. You’re too honorable to have risked passing it
on to me.”
She narrowed her gaze and fought a smile. “Of course, that doesn’t explain why you didn’t use protection for your own welfare. You had no way of knowing whether or not I was infected.”
He was saved from responding when her telephone rang. She stepped away to answer it.
Saved by the bell. What in hell could he say? He had no excuse. He’d always prided himself on having common sense and a level head. But nothing he’d said or done in the past couple of weeks made sense to him. He’d been running on high-octane testosterone—and the tank was full. He was so hot for Trish, he ended up doing just the opposite of what he’d warned himself not to do.
Trish had settled back in a chair and from her conversation he could tell she was talking to Deb, so he gathered up his clothes and headed for the shower. He shaved and showered, and when he finished and came back into the room, she was still on the phone.
He went into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee and checked out the refrigerator—then settled for a bowl of cereal.
Trish came into the kitchen while he was eating and made herself a bowl of cereal and sat down opposite him.
“I’m meeting Deb in an hour.”
“The two of you were just on the phone for a half hour and you’re seeing each other in an hour. What’s left to talk about?”
“We’re meeting with clients who have a flight to catch in a few hours. They’ll be out of the country for several months and want to go over some changes they want made in the house while they’re gone.”
She finished the cereal and coffee then rushed off to get dressed.
Dave cleaned up the kitchen and then put in a call to Bolen.
“You two sure left in a hurry last night,” Kurt said.
“Yeah…ah, Trish wasn’t feeling well, so I brought her home.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.”
Dave had always been up front with Kurt, but at the same time he wasn’t one to kiss and tell. Besides, he wasn’t fooling anyone. Even though they never said so, he knew the guys on the squad had already figured out that much of the show of affection between him and Trish in public was the real thing. Dave made some small talk with Kurt then hung up.
Whoever said women took a long time to dress didn’t know Trish. Within thirty minutes they were on the Beltway.
Showered and dressed, the same sensual goddess who had made uninhibited love to him on her living-room floor less than an hour previously, now Trish looked properly prim and efficiently professional dressed in a beige slack suit with her hair swept into a chignon at the nape of her neck.
While he…he was still feeling the aftershock.
The address Deb had given Trish was in Great Falls, Virginia, one of those high-rent districts not too far from D.C.
Once they turned off the highway, they had to follow a private circuitous road that wound through a heavily wooded area ending in front of a large, imposing house several stories high. It resembled a Victorian mansion. A for sale sign was driven into the lawn near the front of the house with the name and telephone number of a realty company. Deb’s sports car was parked on the curved driveway.
“Well, well,” Dave murmured, “the old homestead hasn’t changed a bit.”
“I love it,” Trish said as she climbed out of the car. “I can’t wait to see the inside. I bet it’s full of great nooks and crannies that are typical of many of these older homes.”
Deb was engrossed in conversation with a well-dressed, grey-haired older man. While she was in the process of introducing them, Dave’s cell phone rang and he stepped into another room to answer it.
“Dave, where are you?” Mike Bishop asked.
“In Fairfax County. Trish and her partner are with a client who wants his house renovated.”
“Baker’s calling in your squad.”
“What about? I thought we had a week off.”
“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him like this in a long time. He’s in a big sweat. Something to do with the McDermott case, but he didn’t tell me what. Only said to pull your squad in right away.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“Probably so, but Baker can’t, so get in here on the double.”
“All right. I’ll round up the other guys.”
“I’ll take care of it. Pedal to the metal, pal.”
Dave hurried back into the other room in time to hear Trish ask, “How long have you and your wife lived here, Mr. Phelps?”
“For about six months,” Phelps replied. “We would have redecorated sooner, but we knew we were going to Europe for several months and thought it would be more convenient to hold off until then.”
“That was a wise choice, Mr. Phelps,” Deb said. “Redecorating can be very distracting.”
Dave motioned to Trish. “Sorry to interrupt, folks. Trish, I’m sorry but I have to leave immediately.”
“No problem, Dave. I can drive Trish back,” Deb said. “We’ll be through here shortly. Mr. Phelps has a plane to catch and his wife has taken the car and gone on ahead, so I promised to drive him to the airport.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when I’m through.”
“See you later.” Trish kissed him on the cheek. “Now let’s go over the kitchen area, Mr. Phelps.” She moved away with the man in tow.
“Deb, hold up a minute,” Dave said, when she started to follow them.
“What is it, Dave?” she asked.
“If Trish has a problem call me on my cell phone. I have the same area code and exchange as Trish. The last four numbers are 9-8-7-6. They’re easy to remember.”
“What’s going on?” Deb asked.
“Just being cautious. She’s been through a rough time these past couple weeks. I’m waiting for the reaction to set in.”
“You got the guy, right?”
“Yeah, I figure she’s been living on pure grit up until now. That’s why I’m worried she’s going to collapse. Sorry to rush away like this, Deb, but I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll keep my eye on her.”
As he climbed into the car, he glanced at the name and number on the for sale sign again. Why keep a stupid sign up on the lawn?
In the past Dave had always taken a logical approach to a problem. Granted, in the last couple of weeks since Trish had re-entered his life, his logic had been as effective as his good intentions. But as he wound his way back toward the highway something about this Fairfax County situation nagged at him.
Logically, anyone who had lived in a house for six months surely would have removed the for sale sign by now. And he knew women well enough to believe that most of them would hang around to discuss the remodeling of their new home.
Furthermore, why would a realty company even put up a sign on a house on a private road? Who would even see it? And even if they did, from what he’d observed in the past, once the house is sold they slapped a sold sticker on the sign, and removed the sign when the transaction was completed. Phelps had said they’d bought the house six months ago!
The puzzle pieces aren’t fitting, are they, Cassidy?
Dave reached for his cell phone and punched in some numbers.
“Jan Kipling,” a woman said pleasantly.
“Is this Kipling Realty?” Dave asked.
“Yes it is. What can I do for you?”
“How do you do, Ms. Kipling. I’m inquiring about a property you have for sale in Great Falls, Virginia.”
“Oh, yes, on Walker Road.”
“No.” Dave gave her the street and address of the private road.
“Just one moment, let me check. No, I’m sorry, but that is not our listing, sir.”
“Could you possibly have sold it within the last year?”
“No, sir. I’ve checked the record. We’ve never had a listing on that road. Let me check the Multiple Listing directory.”
In a few seconds she was back. “Of course, I should have remembered. That property has been on the market f
or at least five years. The owners moved to Mexico.”
“Your sign is on the front lawn of the property, Ms. Kipling.”
“If it’s our sign I think that someone is having fun at our expense. We had a sign relating to the Walker Road property posted at the junction of Walker and River Bend roads. That’s where many of the signs for Great Falls are posted. Property for sale on private roads will usually have signs posted at the foot of their private road. It would be very unlikely there would actually be a sign posted in front of the house. Perhaps some kids were fooling around, stole our sign and put it there as a joke.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
Dave hung up the phone. So much for that theory. Some kids might have stuck the sign there last night for all he knew.
The damn road went on forever and forced him to slow his speed. He hit one of the curves too fast, spun around and almost plowed into one of the trees that lined the narrow road. The engine stalled when he tried to restart it.
Cursing, he got out of the car and in frustration kicked the tire. He was about to go under the hood, when he was blinded by a reflection from some nearby brush. He went over to it and discovered a concealed Jeep Liberty.
It wasn’t an older, abandoned car. The Jeep was fairly new with a current license plate. What the hell was going on? It looked like the vehicle had been purposely stashed—concealed so it wouldn’t be seen from the road.
At that moment his cell phone started to beep. Cursing, he reached for it.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” Dave grumbled into the phone.
“Baker just told me why he’s up in arms,” Mike Bishop said. “The prints of this guy we’re holding don’t match the ones we have on file for McDermott.”
“But the guy looks identical to McDermott. So someone switched the fingerprints.”
“Or it’s not Colin McDermott.”
“What are you saying?”
“Dave, I think Intel really blew this one. We just found out from the Brits that McDermott had a brother James. He disappeared about five years ago, and the woman you shot in the mall was Britany McDermott. She was married to James McDermott.”
