by Chris Taylor
After long minutes, she turned the faucets off and squeezed the water out of her hair. Opening the clear glass door, she stepped out of the shower and onto the fluffy, white bathmat. Her mother had voiced an opinion about that, too. So what if it wasn’t quite so white and fluffy now? It was what she’d wanted at the time. That should have been all that mattered.
After giving her hair a brisk rub, she wrapped a bath sheet around her body. With a sigh of satisfaction, she switched off the light in the bathroom and padded down the carpeted hallway to the kitchen. A glance at the clock on the wall near the sink told her it was just after ten. Time for a hot cup of coffee before bed.
The water had nearly boiled when her front door buzzer sounded. Frowning, she stepped into the hallway and pressed the intercom.
“Who is it?”
There was a moment of silence before Clayton’s deep, familiar voice filled the air.
“It’s me. Clayton. I just…I’ve been going over the files. I think I’ve found something. Um, I mean… I just wanted to… Christ, I’m sorry. This was a stupid idea. I’m sorry, Ellie. It can wait until morning. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Although her heart had started pounding the second she’d heard him speak, she knew it wasn’t wise to invite him in. She’d already cursed him to hell for prying into her private life. It would be more than hypocritical to ask him into her apartment. It was as private as it got—her sanctuary from the rest of the world. The last thing she wanted was to have him invading it.
“Why don’t you come on up and tell me about it?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She suddenly realized what she’d said. Nerves came to life in her belly. Depressing the button with fingers that were slightly shaky, she added, “Um, give me a few minutes. I just stepped out of the shower.”
* * *
The outer door to the apartment block clicked open and Clayton took the stairs two at a time. His head was full of images of Ellie warm and wet and soapy. Christ, why did she have to go and tell him that? Now he could barely remember the reason he’d come.
Something to do with a break in the case. Yeah, that was it. Tuesdays. It had something to do with Tuesdays. He shook his head in disgust. He was bullshitting himself. He wanted to see her. Simple.
Drawing in some deep breaths, he paused on the landing between floors in an effort to get his heart rate back to normal. In. Out. In. Out. His stamina had slipped. He hadn’t had his usual workout since he’d arrived in Sydney. Even still, a few flights of stairs shouldn’t have done him in. He refused to acknowledge being out of breath had anything to do with the woman who was even now waiting for him on the other side of her door.
Despite his best efforts, his heart continued to pound and his chest felt tight. He felt like a teenager on his first date. Which was just ridiculous. He’d turned twenty-eight on his last birthday and this was definitely not a date. It was a work meeting. Nothing more. No different to when they’d brainstormed in the squad room.
Except his palms hadn’t felt sweaty then. And his heart hadn’t thumped so loudly. And Ellie hadn’t just left a hot, steamy shower.
“Christ, just get on with it,” he muttered testily under his breath. She was just a woman. He’d worked with plenty of them. It was only that none of them had made him feel the way she did.
He hurried up the last few stairs. She was probably wondering what the hell was taking him so long. Steeling himself with another deep breath, he knocked decisively on her door.
Thirty seconds later, it opened. She stood on the other side, dressed in jeans and a dark red sweater that complemented her light coloring. Her face was free from makeup and her still-damp hair sprang out in wild disarray.
She smelled of citrus and vanilla and something else. She smelled delicious. She smiled at him and his heart did a backflip, refusing to behave itself, despite his pep talk.
“Come in.”
Opening the door wide, she gestured for him to enter. There was a small living room to his left, straight off the hall. He stepped past her and moved into the room. She closed and locked the door behind him.
Even though it was late, she hadn’t yet drawn the curtains and his gaze swept over the view of the city skyline visible through the sliding glass doors that led out onto a balcony.
“Nice view.”
She came into the room and stopped a few feet away. “It is, isn’t it? Thanks to Mom and Dad’s early succession planning. I’m a lucky girl.”
An electric log fire glowed warmly from the middle of one wall. Soft orange and yellow light bounced off the tasteful Australian landscapes that hung near the window on the opposite side. A white leather couch decorated with bright red and orange cushions dominated the rest of the room.
“It’s a great spot.” He eyed her with curiosity. “But a fair commute to Penrith.”
She acknowledged the tacit quest for information with a slight tug of her lips. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I was out of line. You’re working harder than any of us to solve this. If there’s something you want to know about me, just say it, okay?”
Heat crept beneath the collar of his polo shirt and he was glad the only light in the room came from the fire. Struggling for something to say, he wished he could remember Riley’s words of wisdom about the sensitivity some people had toward sharing personal information.
Of course, he could understand it. He knew exactly how it felt to have people coming forward—some of them almost strangers—expressing concern and sympathy, watching him with pity, understanding, compassion and just plain old curiosity. Lisa had been gone three years, but still he remembered.
He’d known why they were curious. For most, it was simply because they cared, and there was nothing wrong with that, even if it had made him uncomfortable.
He gazed at Ellie in the dimness and his heart clenched. Her eyes were wide and uncertain and despite her obvious effort to look calm and collected, the anxious fluttering of her hands and the way her gaze kept skittering away from him told him differently. It increased his confidence to realize he wasn’t the only one feeling nervous.
She cleared her throat. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sure, what are you having?”
“I…ah… I just boiled the water. I was about to have a cup of coffee, but I can get you something stronger, if you like.”
“No, coffee’s fine.” He grinned at her. “I thought I was the only one who drank coffee right before bedtime.”
Her gaze slid away again at the mention of bedtime. She ducked her head. “The kitchen’s through this way. We can talk while I make it.”
He stared at her in silence, distracted by the way her sweater seemed to mold itself to her breasts. He was almost certain she wasn’t wearing a bra.
A tiny frown appeared between her eyes. “Clayton?”
“Sure, sounds good,” he managed and followed her out of the room.
She’d already spooned ground coffee beans into a stainless steel coffee pot when he wandered into the kitchen. Like the living room, it was small, but cozy. A worn pine table and two blue, painted wooden chairs stood against the wall near the door.
His gaze drifted across the row of small china knickknacks that lined the window sill. An array of photos of people he presumed to be her friends were plastered symmetrically across the fridge, held by colorful magnets.
She had her back to him and he took a few moments to admire the tidy view. Apart from the clingy dress she’d worn the night they’d gone out to dinner, he’d only ever seen her in smart but somber-looking business suits. And mostly trouser suits, at that.
A couple of times, she’d come to work in a short, straight skirt that had fallen just above her knee and he’d been able to admire a very fine set of legs—at least, as much of them as he’d been able to see. But the faded blue Levis she had on tonight really did her justice. Her small round butt was lovingly cupped by the denim and his hands yearned to touch her.
&nbs
p; Dropping his gaze lower, he smiled in surprise. She was barefoot. He hadn’t noticed it before. No wonder she’d seemed even smaller when she’d opened the door. Although she usually favored a sensible court shoe over a stiletto, he’d never seen her without some sort of a heel.
It somehow made everything seem more intimate. The last barefooted woman he’d shared a room with had been his wife. His late wife.
Riley and the rest of his family were right. He needed to push the guilt aside and start living in the present. The loss of Lisa was still sharp and real, but she wasn’t here. And she never would be again. It was Ellie his body burned for now. It was Ellie’s image that woke him as he lay panting and sweaty amongst the twisted sheets. The thought of letting the memory of his wife recede scared the hell out of him, but maybe it was time?
Ellie turned to face him, holding a steaming coffee mug in her hand. She smiled shyly and his pulse accelerated.
“Black, right?”
His eyebrows flew up in surprise. “What gave me away?”
“I’ve shared the tea room with you, remember?”
He grinned back at her, willing the nerves away. “I’m flattered you noticed.”
“Ha, don’t feel too special. I’m a detective. I notice everything.”
“Touché.”
He reached out and took the hot cup out of her hand and their fingers touched. He heard her slight intake of breath and did his best to get his own heart rate back under control. An awkward silence fell between them. They both looked away.
“How about we—?”
“Why don’t you—?”
They spoke in a jumble. A bark of nervous laughter escaped him as Ellie turned away and busied herself at the sink.
Clayton bit his lip. Christ, being here was so not a good idea. What the hell had he been thinking? He cleared his throat and tried again.
“How about we retire to the couch and talk there while I enjoy your million dollar view?”
“Good idea.” She picked up her mug and he stepped politely aside as she led the way out of the room.
“Even better,” she threw over her shoulder, “we could sit out on the balcony. The air’s a bit crisp, but with that southern blood of yours, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”
He stopped dead in the living room. Unaware of his sudden consternation, Ellie slid open the glass doors.
“Um, actually… If you don’t mind, I’d rather sit in here.”
She turned in momentary surprise before comprehension filled her eyes.
“Oh, God, that’s right. I’m sorry. I should have remembered. Especially after that night at Centrepoint. It was thoughtless of me. I don’t know how you managed to cope. You even ate most of your meal. At least, I think you did. Are you sure—?”
His heart soared at her nervousness. “Ellie.”
Her jaw snapped shut and he tried to conceal a grin. She looked away, embarrassed. Tenderness welled up inside him. He could almost hear the ice cracking from around his heart.
He gestured in the direction of the couch. “Let’s sit in here. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to sit on a genuine white leather couch.”
“Really?”
“No, not really.” He grinned. “But I was still pretty young when my daughter was born. My career hadn’t gotten to the point where I could shop for furniture like this. Besides, my wife would never have brought anything white into our house. She was far too practical for that.”
Her eyes widened in surprise as she sat down on the three-seater a few feet away. “You have a daughter? That’s wonderful. I had no idea.”
His cheeks burned with embarrassment. Of course she wouldn’t. He was the only one insensitive enough to use Google to pry into his co-worker’s private life.
“Yeah, Olivia,” he mumbled. “She’s four.”
As if sensing his discomfort, she leaned closer. “Clayton, I didn’t mean that how it sounded. I wasn’t referring to your Google search. I was merely expressing surprise.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’m glad you brought it up, anyway. I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am for invading your privacy. I honestly had no idea you’d find it so disturbing and I’m mortified that you did.” He held her gaze, hoping she could see how sincere he felt. “Will you please forgive me?”
Her eyes stayed somber for long moments and his heart sank. Christ, she was never going to get over it. He was going to lose a chance with the only woman who’d sparked his interest since his wife had died. And all because of some stupid Google search. He closed his eyes briefly at the enormity of it, dismayed by the wave of disappointment that washed over him.
And then her voice reached him, soft and uncertain.
“It’s okay, Munro. Don’t sweat it. I over-reacted. It was a big deal for me, but then, I have…issues.” She looked away and cleared her throat.
“Jamie died in early July. I’d suffered through another anniversary of his death right before you arrived in Sydney. My parents called from Florence to check that I was okay. I thought I’d managed to cope with the memories reasonably well until the incident with the little boy, Zach Clements. It was too close to home. It brought everything back: the darkness, the despair, the absolute desolation that only losing a child can bring. I should have kept up with my therapy, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to keep talking about it. All it seemed to do was keep the whole terrible time in my head, where I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to shut myself off from it, away from the guilt and the pain and the utter devastation of knowing that there was nothing I could have done to save him and there was nothing I could do to bring him back.”
She lifted her gaze to his. He was stricken at the sadness in their emerald depths.
“You probably did me a favor. You forced me out of hiding.”
“Christ, Ellie. I’m so sorry. I had no right. I, of all people, know everyone grieves in their own way. It wasn’t my place to force you into something you weren’t ready for.”
Her lips tightened. Tears glinted in her eyes. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper.
“But was I ever going to be ready? Maybe I needed to be pushed? Maybe you did me a favor? You forced me out of hiding.”
Without warning, huge tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks, silvery trails in the dim light. Clayton’s chest tightened on a surge of emotion.
Unable to sit idly by and watch her cry, he scooted closer and drew her into his arms. She shuddered and buried her face against his chest. They sat in silence while he held her. Quiet tears soaked into the front of his shirt.
After a few moments, she pulled away and leaned over to tug some tissues out of a box on the coffee table. She swiped at her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I guess I’m feeling a little vulnerable tonight.”
His heart filled with tenderness and he drew her back to his side. She snuggled her head close against his chest and breathed in deeply. They sat in companionable silence. He stroked the velvety-softness of her cheek over and over with the back of his fingers…
His heart rate accelerated. She felt so good against him. So warm. So right.
Images of Lisa swam before his eyes. Momentary guilt weighed him down. He pushed it aside with a surge of irritation. He was with Ellie. Beautiful, warm, giving Ellie. He wanted her. What was wrong with that?
Nothing. Everything. Uncertainty, desire and anger churned up inside him. Determinedly pushing them all aside, he tilted her chin upward with his fingers and leaned in closer. Slowly, slowly, he touched her lips with his.
Soft. Moist. Warm. Comforting. And the faintest taste of coffee. It lasted less than half a minute, but it seemed like a lifetime. She was the first woman he’d kissed since Lisa. He couldn’t believe how good it felt.
He pulled back slowly.
Her eyes, wide and full of wonder, never strayed from his face. Unable to resist, he kissed her again.
This time, as if given permission, the passion that h
ad been smouldering deep inside him burst free. He reached around and cupped the back of her head in his hand to hold it still while his lips devoured hers.
His tongue swept into her mouth and took all she was willing to give and more. Heat exploded through him and centred in his groin. He was rock-hard and on fire.
Her arms twined around his neck and drew him even closer. He heard a moan and wasn’t sure which one of them it came from—and didn’t care.
Releasing her head, his fingers moved of their own accord and trailed down her neck and then lower. Soft and unbound, he filled his hands with her sweater-clad breasts while his lips continued their onslaught.
The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. She smelled nothing like Lisa. She felt nothing like Lisa. She wasn’t Lisa. She was Ellie and she felt so damned right it scared him.
Breathing hard, he pulled back and hugged her close to his chest. He rested his chin on her head and fought to regain control. It was madness. It was insane. It was unavoidable and he knew he had to taste her again.
He lowered his head and swept her tight against him. He kissed her with all the longing that had been building up inside him from the moment he’d spied her across the floor in the squad room. She met his passion without hesitation and he reveled in the heat and softness that was her.
Long moments later, he loosened his arms around her. She pulled away slightly and stared up at him, her eyes full of light and shadow, passion and uncertainty.
Her voice was a husky whisper. “If there’s one thing you do know how to do, Fed, it’s kiss.”
He ducked his head in embarrassment, feeling unaccountably shy.
“Surely you’ve heard that on more than one occasion?”
He blushed and couldn’t meet her eyes. Christ, where was his confidence when he needed it? He felt like a tongue-tied schoolboy about to go all the way for the first time.
Her grin slowly faded as she realized just how uncomfortable he was. “Hey, I meant it as a compliment. You are an incredible kisser. Not that I’ve had loads of experience,” she added hurriedly, “but I do know a good kisser when he comes along.”
She offered him another grin. He did a weak imitation of returning it. Leaning forward on the couch, he rested his hands on his thighs and stared straight ahead. A sigh escaped his lips. He spoke quietly into the near darkness.
