Fatal Hearts

by Norah Wilson

Because they both needed to breathe, he pulled back and looked down at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes unfocused, pupils dilated.

  “That, sweetheart, is getting jumped.”

  She drew her tongue across her plump bottom lip, probably to soothe it, but his cock reacted predictably.

  “Isn’t there more to it?” Her voice was huskier than he’d ever heard it. Sexy.

  “Yes, much more. And, yes, I do have condoms.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Boyd followed as Hayden led the way to his bedroom.

  His instinct was to lift her up until she locked those long legs around him and carry her to the bed, kissing the hell out of her all the way. He wanted to fan the flames of her excitement. Instead, he let her lead the way under her own steam, giving her the chance to let the reality of what they were about to do sink in.

  When she reached the bed, she turned. Her smile was tremulous. “All the times I came over here, I never even sat on this bed.”

  The reminder of Josh should have cooled Boyd’s jets, but it didn’t. He’d grown used to sleeping in the bed his brother used to occupy. “Does it bother you that Josh slept here? Because if it does, we could—”

  “It doesn’t.”

  Good. Because he didn’t know how he would have finished that sentence. Do it on the tiny couch? On the floor? Up against the wall? Hayden deserved better.

  With her eyes locked on his, she reached for the hem of her T-shirt. Clearly she hadn’t changed her mind. The T-shirt came off over her head, and she tossed it aside. His eyes clapped onto the white bra cupping her breasts. It was one of those seamless things designed to make women look amazing in sweaters and T-shirts, but it was not the kind of bra he often saw. No color, no lace, no feats of engineering in the cleavage department. Basically not the kind of bra a woman wore when she knew she was going to be undressed. At least, not the women he knew. Somehow, the difference made him feel unaccountably tender toward her.

  “Come here,” he said.

  She stepped into his arms with no hesitation, lifting her face for a kiss. It was a long, drugging one, unhurried and sensual. It was as though now the decision was made, they had all the time in the world.

  But sensual and slow eventually gave way to urgency. When her hands worked their way under his shirt, he tore it off. She pressed herself to him, gasping at the skin-to-skin contact. He reached for the clasp of her bra and worked it free. She moved back long enough to let the garment fall away. He had just enough time to register the lush shape of her breasts with their rosy-pink tips before she pressed them to his chest again. And, oh Christ, they felt good.

  He needed to get her naked, and he sure as hell needed to get out of his jeans. But first, he needed to locate a condom.

  He pulled back. Her eyes were heavy lidded and sensual, her lips reddened. And her poor face. She was going to have some whisker burn. If he were a better man, he’d stop and shave right now. But he wasn’t. He rubbed her lower lip with the ball of his thumb. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  “What?”

  “Condom.”

  “Oh! Of course.”

  He ducked into the en suite bathroom, grabbed his shaving kit, and dug out a package of condoms. With one in hand and a couple more in the pocket of his jeans, he went back to the bedroom.

  She reached for him, going up on tiptoe to kiss his mouth again. He had no objection to that. Then her fingers glided down his chest to find the button of his denims and unfastened it. He stilled her hand with his own.

  “Ladies first.”

  She gave him a wicked smile. “Oh, I like that policy. Especially in the bedroom.”

  He turned her around so her sweet, round butt was tucked up against his hardness and reached around to find the button at the top of her jeans. He freed it and slid the short zipper down. Then he slid his hand inside her panties, his fingers finding her moist warmth. She made a mewling sound that went straight to his groin. God, she was slick!

  But he wasn’t finished torturing her. Not yet. Tossing the condom on the bed, he lifted his newly freed hand to her left breast. He still hadn’t seen them properly, but they were full enough to fill his hand. With one hand, he delved into her wet heat, and, with the other, he teased her nipple into a tight, hard nub. Panting now, she ground her butt into him.

  “Now, Boyd.” The plea emerged with what sounded almost like a sob.

  He released her. She immediately turned around, stripped her jeans off, panties and all, and stepped out of them. Sweet Lord in heaven, she was gorgeous. Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen. Her breasts were beautifully proportioned, crested with rosy-pink tips that had hardened into tight buds. Her waist dipped, flowing smoothly into womanly hips, strong, shapely legs, and pretty feet. His gaze traveled back up to the apex of her thighs, where a neat thatch of golden hair hid the sweetest part. The sight hardened his cock even further. He’d never cared much for the trend of women waxing themselves bare. Maybe it was the cop in him, but he didn’t want to feel as if he were bedding a prepubescent girl.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said. “Perfect.”

  “And you are so not naked.”

  He laughed, shucking his jeans and underwear off just as she had; then he bent to peel off his socks. When he looked up, the expression on her face made him grin.

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her. Then he whisked her off her feet, causing her to gasp. Smiling with satisfaction, he placed her on the bed and followed her down. He wanted to lie beside her and tease her some more. Kiss every inch of her body and bring her to climax with his mouth. But that would have to wait until he’d had a close shave. She wouldn’t thank him for whisker burns on her most tender, intimate flesh.

  Instead, he covered her body with his. Weight propped on his arms, cock nestled between her legs, he pressed her lush body into the mattress. She clutched at his shoulders and surged against him.

  Dammit, where is that condom? He rolled away, located it, and sheathed himself in record time.

  “Please, Boyd. Don’t make me wait. I want you inside me.”

  He rolled to face her. Without encouragement, she rolled onto her side to bring their bodies into alignment.

  “Kiss me.”

  He obeyed, taking her mouth in another deep kiss while he found her sex with his hand. Groaning, she parted her legs for him so he could stroke her. He almost groaned himself when he found how wet she was. How ready.

  She pulled at his shoulders and rolled onto her back. He took the hint, covering her again with his body. Some fumbling and he was there, poised at her entrance.

  “Now!”

  He pushed into her scalding heat with deliberate control, but she surged up to meet him, taking most of his length. The shock of sensation stilled him. She gasped and stilled too, and the sound reminded him that it had probably been a while for her. Maybe a long while.

  “Are you okay?”

  She ran her hands down his flanks. “I am so much more than okay.” Her hands found his butt and urged him closer. He took that as permission to move. Reminding himself she was out of practice, he pulled out marginally and rocked back into her, filling her completely. He did it again and again, setting up an insistent rhythm. It felt so good, he had to grit his teeth to keep the tempo easy. And the view of her breasts bobbing with every rocking thrust didn’t make it any easier.

  “Oh, yes.” Her words were husky, barely recognizable as her voice. “That’s good.”

  He liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to say what she liked.

  Then her hands were on his chest, his abdomen, his sides. They skated over his skin, one moment all soft palms, the next clutching with fingernails. Damn, but he wanted those hands everywhere. On his back, at his nape, in his hair . . . Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d picked up the rhyth
m, driving into her harder, faster, his strokes longer.

  “Yes!”

  She moved with him, meeting his every thrust. He felt the tension rising in her as the tempo increased. Going down on one elbow, he reached between them to part her folds wider, moving higher to hopefully give her more friction. That tipped her over the edge she’d been striving for. Her words were broken, sobbed out of her, as her orgasm rose, peaked, and rolled over her. It was all he could do to hold on and let her ride it out before his own need took over.

  She held him close now. Her breasts beneath him were soft and cushioning, and their nipples had contracted into tight, hard points from her orgasm. Her breath was warm in his ear, and she was so incredibly tight as he plunged into her, her internal muscles still clenching and releasing. She sank the fingers of one hand into his hair, and he came with a muffled cry.

  Arms trembling, he rested on her a moment while the world righted itself.

  Goddamn.

  CHAPTER 17

  Hayden stretched luxuriously as she watched Boyd head to the bathroom to deal with the condom. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so blissed-out.

  She had orgasms. Regularly. The mechanics of arousal, sex, and orgasm were no mystery. She was very good at taking care of herself. She owned a vibrator and knew how to use it. But there was just no comparison between that and sex with a talented, attractive partner you could trust.

  And she did trust Boyd.

  No, he wasn’t the kind of guy who hung around long. Even if Josh hadn’t bemoaned his twin’s chances of ever finding a woman he wanted to settle with, she’d have known that much. It was there for anyone to see. No doubt a lot of women had seen it and taken it as a challenge, imagining that they would be the ones to bring him to heel.

  In that respect, he was the anti-Josh. But that’s what made him perfect for her. Or rather, perfect for right now.

  So no, she couldn’t “trust” him to hang around after his investigation was done. But she didn’t want him to. She did trust him with her body, her person. She trusted him to be a considerate lover and to be discreet. Just as it was ingrained in him to walk on the traffic side of the sidewalk, he would treat her with respect.

  And best of all, she liked him. They were connected too. Their love of Josh, their grief over his loss. Though they’d only known each other briefly, she felt as though she’d known him much longer.

  “You’re looking pretty pleased with yourself, Dr. Walsh.”

  She looked up to see Boyd approaching the bed. He was still naked, and she caught her breath at the sight of him.

  “Do I?” She bit her lip. “I guess I am at that.”

  He picked up the coverlet from the bottom of the bed and crawled in beside her. After positioning a pillow behind his head, he drew her close and tossed the throw over them.

  “Good idea,” she said, snuggling into his chest, her head resting on his left arm. “I was starting to feel the chill.”

  He made no reply, just brought his left hand up to stroke her hair. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the moment. The lazy caress sent waves of pleasure shimmering through her. Not arousing—it would take some time before her system rebooted enough for that—but sensual.

  Eventually, though, as the minutes ticked by with no sound but for the slowing beat of his heart beneath her ear, she began to worry. She tipped her head back to look at him, catching a pensive look on his face. Her stomach plummeted.

  Was he having second thoughts about what they’d done? Was he wondering how to extract himself from the situation gracefully? Might as well be direct. He’d give her a straight answer.

  She drew back so she could look at him. “What are you thinking about?”

  “The damned telephone numbers.”

  She almost wilted with relief.

  “I know.” He grimaced. “Not very romantic talk, is it? It’s just where my mind goes, every moment it can. The investigation.”

  “What about the phone numbers?”

  He pulled her back against him. “So far, the ones we’ve chased down are pretty much the same players Morgan identified on his own. Obstetricians. Old ones, new ones who’ve taken over old practices. Most of them Morgan’s already talked to, and the others he’s planning to interview. The ones he’s already talked to all readily admitted meeting with Josh, but none of them could help him with his quest. Only two had records of identical twin boys born around the time we were.”

  “I presume Morgan followed those up?”

  “Yeah. One set of twins was Asian and, with the other set, one child had hydrocephalus, which led to cognitive developments.”

  “Oh, poor thing.” She put her hand on his chest. “It must have been from injury sustained during childbirth. If it was congenital, both twins would have had it.”

  He covered her hand with his, stroking it. “Yes, an unfortunate complication of birth, the doctor said.”

  “But there are still numbers to explore?”

  “Oh, yeah. But so far, we’re getting stuff like the car dealer and the Running Room. Restaurant take-out numbers. A whole bunch of them were calls he made in the course of his work at the newspaper—he didn’t carry a separate cell for work.”

  “You’re scared you’re going to run all the numbers and come up with nothing?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “As soon as I saw there was nothing particularly helpful in the last couple of weeks’ calls, it’s been hard to sustain much optimism.”

  They were quiet for a moment.

  “You say Morgan has been chasing down obstetricians. Has he been looking at GPs too?”

  His hand, which had been stroking hers, stilled. “I know deliveries by family doctors weren’t that unusual back then, but a multiple birth? I thought that automatically warranted an obstetrician.”

  “It does. I’m sure it did thirty-five years ago too. But—”

  “But if they were trying to keep the whole thing off the record, so to speak, why not use a GP? Or a midwife for that matter.”

  “I don’t think there was a licensed midwifery program in New Brunswick at the time,” she said. “But yeah, sure. It might have been a home birth attended by either a doctor or someone qualified—or holding themselves out as qualified—to attend deliveries.” She tipped her head back to look at him. “Omigod. Josh might have been thinking in that direction. It was months ago, but he did ask me about midwifery back then. I told him they didn’t—and still don’t—have hospital privileges. We do have legislation, and I imagine privileges will come, but those births are and have been exclusively home births.”

  “That’s good! Josh had probably exhausted the ob-gyns and turned his attention to the alternatives.”

  She could feel the excitement in him. He was practically vibrating with it. It made her happy to see the discouragement banished. “I hope it was a GP. They’d probably be easier to find thirty-five years later than an unregulated midwife.”

  “That’s where I’ll start,” he declared. “Morgan can chase the rest of the baby doctors, and I’ll start running down the family docs.”

  “That’s a pretty sizeable pool,” she cautioned.

  “I just need a way of figuring out who was practicing here when we were born, then figuring out where they are—if they’re still around, if they moved on, if they’re dead. I’ll start with the ones who are still here, and I’ll reach out to them.”

  “Won’t that take a long time?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  She bit her lip. “It sounds like a pretty big job. And remember, Josh was an investigative journalist and it took him the better part of what?” She did the mental calculation. “Six months to get to the stage where you think he had a major breakthrough.”

  “I may have mentioned this, but in my real life, I’m a detective.”

  She rolled h
er eyes. “I wasn’t casting aspersions. But you need to explain the fast-track scenario. How can you get to the answers any faster than Josh did?”

  “I figure out who he was likely to have talked to and visit them. Give them the hard candy.”

  “Uh . . . hard candy?”

  “Yeah. You know, I put on my stern face and say I know they talked to Josh about the circumstances of our birth and adoption, and they’d be well advised to tell me what they know before I find out through other means.”

  She frowned. “What if they say they don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, that they never heard of Josh or never talked to him?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll say something like, ‘I guess we’ll see when I get through all his notes and the boxes upon boxes of research records he left.’ Then I’ll watch them to see what they do.”

  “The imaginary boxes of research records.”

  “Naturally.”

  Suddenly, her mind was awash with possibilities, none of them good. Yes, he might shake some information loose with that approach, but, holy crap, how much consternation it would cause. And how much danger would he set afoot?

  “Boyd, that could be dangerous. If someone did kill Josh over his investigation—”

  “Believe me, I know,” he conceded. “It could well be dangerous. But I can’t see any other way.”

  She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for her T-shirt from where it lay on the floor. She heard him sit up, felt his eyes on her as she pulled her shirt over her head.

  “I can take care of myself, Hayden. And unlike Josh, I’m going in with eyes wide-open.”

  She reached for her jeans, pulled them on, then found herself holding her panties and bra.

  “Josh would do it for me,” he said, his voice soft. “If our positions were reversed, he wouldn’t quit digging until he knew the answers. Even if it was dangerous.”

  Shit, shit, shit. He was right and she knew it.

  She sighed. “I know.” She tossed the underwear on the bed and sat back down. “I’m just unnerved.”