Dirty Secrets (11 page)

Carefully, very carefully, he stood and clenched his teeth against the vicious need to take her. He’d hurt her if he wasn’t slow, if he wasn’t careful. She was lying limply on his bedspread, one arm flung above her head, her hand open, twitching still. The other hand was fisted against her mouth and her eyes were closed. She looked . . .

Like every dream he’d ever had. He’d slip into her now, he thought, fighting the urge to thrust himself inside her. He’d gently rock her to another orgasm.
Then I’ll let myself come. That’s what I’ll do.
He leaned forward, meaning to press a soft kiss to her shoulder, when her eyes opened, dark and brown and turbulent.

And hot. God, she was hot.
For me.
Slowly she moved the hand that covered her mouth. “Christopher.” She mouthed his name, no sound emerging. “Please.”

And his control snapped. Frantically he pulled her to the middle of the bed, shocked when she dug her heels into the mattress to help him. More shocked when her small hands pulled him down on her, grabbing his buttocks, pulling him closer.

“Dammit, Emma.” His breath was hot in her ear, his harsh whispers thrilling her. “I need to go slow.”

She shook her head, her whisper desperate to her own ears. “No, you don’t. I need you now.
Now, Christopher
.” And she couldn’t stop the small cry of satisfaction when with one hard thrust he was inside her. Filling her. He felt . . . so good.

He pushed his body above her, his biceps cording as he held himself still. His eyes were closed, his expression . . . reverent. He shuddered once. Then began to move. Slow and hard, his face set with an almost grim resolve.

She could feel him, every stroke of his hips stirring embers of sensation that had been dormant too long. She arched, drawing him deeper still, and he groaned.

“I wanted to make this last. But I can’t.” His thrusts took new power and the bedspread scratched her back as the force of his thrusts moved her up the bed. She was climbing again, unbelievably. She’d thought herself emptied after the first climax, but it wasn’t so. The second peak took her by surprise and she cried out, his hand covering her mouth to stifle the sound as she shuddered. His thrusts grew frantic and fast. Then he stiffened, his chest expanding, his teeth bared as he spilled himself deep into her body.

Then collapsed against her, shaking. “My God,” he breathed. “My God. Emma.”

She pressed her lips to the side of his neck, hot and sweaty. So strong. And she said nothing. There were simply no words.

Still shaking, he rolled them to their sides, his hands on her butt, his body still buried deep inside hers. She wondered if, after all those years, it had been what he’d hoped. She didn’t have to wonder long.

His lips grazed her ear, vibrating gently as he hummed in completion. “That was more than I ever dared to hope for.”

She said nothing and he leaned back, anxious to see her face. Wondering if he’d hurt her. Afraid he’d see regret in her eyes. But it wasn’t regret. It was awe. And intense satisfaction. The worries he’d harbored, worries that he wouldn’t be able to please her as her husband had, just disappeared. She stared at him, as if stunned. Maybe she’d never come twice before. But Christopher was wise enough not to ask. He’d pleased her and that was all that mattered. And if he had his way, he thought, pulling the blanket around them, he’d please her again before the night was over.

Chapter 8

St. Pete, Wednesday, March 3, 1:15 a.m.

He waited in the shadows of the trees, dreading what was to come, knowing he would be unable to stop it. The crunch of gravel was like ground glass in his gut. Andrews was here. The heavy footsteps behind him stopped and there was a scratch of a match, the flare of a flame. Andrews took a long drag on his cigarette, blew it out.

“Walker was up at the site today.”

Nausea rolled through him. “I know.”

“If Walker doesn’t know now, within days he will. It’s just a matter of time.”

“I won’t kill him,” he hissed. Vehemently.

Andrews just chuckled, sending the chill of wet sweat dripping down his back. “You know, for a man who can be tied to two murders . . .” Andrews took another deep drag on the cigarette, making him wish for one of his own. “One phone call from me and you’ll be locked up tight. And Walker would still die if I wanted him to.”

“If Walker dies, it will all come back to you. Your company will go under.”

“If Walker dies, yes, that’s probably true, especially now that you killed the Meyer woman.” Cold fury edged Andrews’s voice. “I never told you to kill her. Why did you?”

“Tanya suspected. I had to.” He was trembling now, the vile memory of choking the life out of Tanya’s body rising above his fear of Andrews. “The night Darrell . . .”

“The night you killed Darrell Roberts,” Andrews supplied acidly.

He swiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “I tried to get him out of the lab, tried to get him to go drinking with me, but he insisted he had to work. And if he worked, Tanya would be with him. It’s Walker’s rule. Nobody works alone. I needed to get her out of there, so that night before she went to the lab I made her dinner. She’s allergic . . .”
Dammit.
Was.
“She was allergic to cinnamon. It made her nauseous. I made spicy chili, added the cinnamon in so she wouldn’t taste it, but she did anyway. I told her she was imagining it. When she called me to come get her later that night she told me she knew what it felt like when she ate cinnamon. I denied it again. I told her I didn’t even keep cinnamon in my kitchen. But Sunday, Harris came to the lab, proved Darrell had been murdered. Tanya came to my apartment, went straight to the kitchen.”

“Where she found the cinnamon because you were too stupid to throw it away.”

Stupid was exactly what he’d been. “Yes. She remembered me asking questions about Darrell’s work. She was so angry. She accused me of poisoning her, too. She said she was going to Harris with what she knew. I didn’t have any choice. I killed her.” He gritted his teeth. “But no more. I can’t do it again. Not Walker.”

“No, we won’t kill Walker. We’ll just convince him it’s in his best interest to forget about all of this. You’ll see that his new girlfriend disappears. Make it look like she went home. Then make sure Walker knows she didn’t. If he cooperates, his girlfriend will be the only one who disappears. If he doesn’t, that pretty little girl of his will be next.”

* * *

Wednesday, March 3, 5:15 a.m.

Emma opened one eye to squint at the alarm clock next to Christopher’s bed. It would be dawn soon. She needed to be getting back to her own bed before his daughter woke up. Gingerly she swung her legs over the side of the bed, only to be pulled back, his arm snaking around her waist.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Stay a little longer. Please.”

He’d snuggled up against her, his lips grazing her hip. His eyes were closed but he was very much awake. “That’s what you said the last time I tried to get up.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smug smile. “It worked, too.”

She had to smile back. “That it did.” It worked.
She
worked. It hadn’t been until after she’d climaxed in his arms that she’d admitted that she’d been afraid her body wouldn’t function. That she’d never again feel that incredible rush, that explosion of feeling. But feel it she had. Several times during the night, as a matter of fact. But now it was morning and they had to face the ramifications of what they’d done. Sobering, she frowned slightly. “Christopher, what happened here—”

She was silenced by his fingertips on her lips. He sat up and she averted her eyes from his chest, every square inch of which she’d savored during the night. He was too tempting, she knew. A look would become a kiss, which would become a caress. And she wasn’t certain her body would allow any more of what would follow that. She was sore, inside and out. Even so, she wanted more.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he warned, his voice low, his blue eyes intense.

Gently she pulled his hand away from her mouth, entwining their fingers. “I wasn’t going to because I’m not. I needed you last night and I think you needed me.”

“I did. I do.”

She brought their joined hands to her lips. “What I was going to say is that we shouldn’t assume that what happened here last night . . . well, it may be the start of something permanent and it may not. Either way, this has been a night I’ll never forget. You gave me back myself, Christopher. For that I’m grateful.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Are you finished?”

He was hurt. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Yes, but—”

“Emma, please. I know this is happening fast for you. I know you didn’t come down here with the intent of sleeping with me, but I’m damn glad you did. Last night may have been the first time, but it won’t be the last. Wherever we end up.”

“Will you be able to live with whatever happens? Even if it’s not permanent?”

He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her against him for a soft kiss. “Whatever happens, we will have had the dance, Emma.”

“That song again. It was years before I could listen to it without wondering where you were. I thought I’d scared you away because I’d danced too close . . .”

He pulled back far enough for her to see his grimace. “I gave up a whole music category,” he said darkly and she chuckled. “It’s true. It was like some cosmic bad joke. Every time I’d let the radio station land on a country station, that song was playing. And I’d think of you, and wonder if you were happy. I wanted you to be happy, Em,” he whispered. “Wherever you were.”

She looked into his eyes, seeing so many things. Her old friend, the boy he’d been. Her new friend, the man he’d become. Her new lover. It was overwhelming. “There were times I thought I knew you better than I knew myself,” she murmured. “Why didn’t I see how you felt?”

“You were so shy about certain things,” he murmured back. “Anything academic was a breeze for you. But anything that had to do with yourself, your self-confidence . . .” He shrugged. “I was afraid to push. Afraid you’d run the other way and I’d lose your friendship. Then that night of the junior prom, I don’t know what came over me. I took a chance. Asked you to dance. You were so scared at first, I could tell. But you relaxed and laid your head against me and I thought my heart would beat right out of my chest. I thought:
This is the time. Make your move
. But I guess I was shy, too. It was always easier to write letters to you than to talk to you about things like that in person.”

“They were lovely letters, Christopher. You should have been a poet.” His cheeks darkened and she smiled, delighted. “You do! You write poetry, too?”

“Not very good poetry,” he admitted. He tilted his head, his eyes suddenly very serious. “We were careless last night, Em.”

Emma caught her breath. They’d made love three times and not once used a condom. That wasn’t careless. That was insane. Gathering her thoughts, she sought to reassure him as best she could. “Will was the only man I’d ever been with. There were no others after his death. But I’ll get a test if you want.”

“That’s not necessary, Emma. And I did get tested when I found out Mona had cheated. Luckily I was clean. I was thinking more about pregnancy.”

Oh, Lord.
Rapidly she counted days in her mind. “It’s dicey, but probably okay.” A shadow of disappointment crossed his face and she blinked at him. “You wanted me to be pregnant?
Christopher.
”

He slid back down to the pillows and closed his eyes. “I always did. Do you remember that project in Mr. Bell’s health class where we got a pretend spouse and had to take care of a doll for a week as our pretend kid?”

“How could I forget?” she grumbled, still reeling. “I was ‘married’ to Skip Loomis.”

A smile flitted about Christopher’s lips. “I wanted to kill him because he thought the project gave him a right to touch you.”

Emma shuddered. “Don’t remind me. You got hooked up with Bethany Rigonelli who left your doll at a pot party,” she said smugly. “I hated her.”

Christopher chuckled. “So did I. I had to explain to Mr. Bell why my doll smelled like the child of sixties flower children. I wanted so badly to be your husband then. I’d watch you carry that doll around like it was real and I’d wish it
was
real. And mine.”

“Oh, Christopher, that’s so sweet.”

“Emma . . . Why didn’t you ever have children with Will?”

Emma hesitated, then shrugged. “He couldn’t. He’d had mumps when he was a little boy and it left him . . . You know. We were planning to adopt a child. We’d even filled out the initial paperwork. And then he was killed.”

His eyes opened, regarding her intently. “If we made a baby here, we get married.”

She sighed, unable to think that far ahead at the moment. “Why don’t we cross that bridge when we get there? For now, I just need to get back to my room before your child wakes up. She doesn’t like me as it is. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

“I’m sorry, Emma. Mona should never have told her those things. I’ve got to think of a way to undo that damage.”

Emma slid off the bed and pulled on her nightshirt. “Counseling will help her, Christopher. But I say we get through this current crisis before we tackle any new ones. Will you send Megan to school today?”

He frowned. “I think she’s as safe there as anywhere, as long as she doesn’t leave the campus. I’ll drop her off, then go see Tanya’s parents.”

“Megan may not want to go to school today,” Emma said gently. “Someone she was close to is dead. She’s going to need time to deal with that.” She kissed his forehead. “Sleep. We’ve got a few hours before she has to wake up and decide.”

Christopher watched her go with a sigh. He’d been careless on purpose, he admitted to himself. At least the second and third times. The first time he’d needed to be inside her so badly, everything else just seemed irrelevant. He had a whole box of condoms in his nightstand. They’d use them next time. And the time after that. He’d give her all the time she needed to come to terms with her own feelings, but when all was said and done, they’d be together. He just knew it.

“
Christopher!
Come here!
Now.
Please
.”

He bolted upright at the sound of Emma’s panicked cry. Pulling on his pants, he ran to her room, only to find her standing in Megan’s open doorway. Megan’s room was empty and Emma held a note. His heart was pounding, so hard he thought he’d pass out. “Where is she, Emma? Where’s Megan?”

Emma’s face was tight with fear. “She’s run away.”

“Why? She just wouldn’t run away! Dammit.” He grabbed the note and read it in disbelief.
Dear Daddy. I got up for a glass of water and found your houseguest’s door open and her bed empty. How could you? I won’t stay in the same house with that woman another minute. I’ll come home when she’s gone. Megan.

Emma stared up at him, her brown eyes pained. “You call her friends. I’ll call Detective Harris. We’ll find her, Christopher.”

The fear that gripped them both went unsaid.
Before somebody else does.

* * *

Wednesday, March 3, 7:15 a.m.

“He’s gone.”

Megan slid out from under her friend’s bed. “Thanks.”

Debbie sat on her bed with a frown, her arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t feel right about this, Megan. I just lied to my mother and your father.”

Megan’s jaw set. Her friend had denied having seen her, but this wasn’t Debbie’s problem.
It’s mine
. “I’m sorry.”

“Your dad’s so worried, Megan. You need to call him, let him know you’re safe.”

“When that bitch leaves, I will.”

“How will you know she’s gone?”

“I’m going to go back to my house and watch from across the street. I only came here last night because it was too cold to sleep outside. The bitch’ll be going home soon,” Megan said with satisfaction. “Dad won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Debbie bit her lip. “Doesn’t sound like he really made a mistake the first time, Meg. You said he didn’t cheat on your mother with this Emma person.”

“No, I said
he said
he didn’t cheat with this Emma person,” she said with contempt, narrowing her eyes at her best friend. “Promise me you won’t say a word.
Promise
.”

Debbie nodded miserably. “I promise. Call me later. Let me know you’re okay.”

“I will.” Megan stuck her head out of Debbie’s bedroom window and looked both ways. “Coast is clear. I’m gone.”

Keeping to backyards, Megan made her way home. She’d never left the house in the middle of the night before. Never skipped school for that matter. It was all Emma’s fault. When
she
was gone, everything would be back to normal. She and her father did fine on their own. Besides, if
she
lived with them, her mom would never come home.

Her father’s old car was gone from the driveway. He’d be making the rounds to her friends’ houses. All would say they’d never seen her. She stood in the shadow of her neighbor’s garage, the morning sun growing bright enough to make her easily seen.
So I’ll stay out of sight.
Her teeth grated when the front door opened and Emma came out, clutching the cordless phone in one hand, shielding her eyes from the sun with the other.
She’s watching for me. Wearing a sweatshirt that belongs to my father.

To Megan’s surprise a strange car pulled in the driveway and the man who’d come to the lab last night got out. Detective Harris. What was he doing here?
Oh my God,
she thought, horrified.
The bitch has called the cops on me.
He went inside the house with her. A few minutes later he came out, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
Like she cares,
Megan thought sardonically.
Like she gives a shit about me or my dad. If she did, she wouldn’t be here.
The cop drove away slowly, checking out the street.