Dying to Have Her (24 page)

“Jinx is going to be fine.”

“She could have died because of me. I could have died! And you know, it’s my fault they called Jeff in. I said he had sent it.”

“Serena, they would have found out, and they would have brought him in, no matter what you said. Trust me.”

She nodded, feeling somewhat better. Then a burst of fear swept through her. “And now I guess I have to face the facts. Someone is trying to kill me,” she whispered. “Jane Dunne … Jane Dunne probably died because of me.”

“You’re not to blame for someone else’s criminal acts,” Liam said. Then, to her surprise, he suddenly rose, setting her on her feet and lifting her chin. “Go take a hot bath. I’m going to fix you a drink. A strong one. Then you can get some sleep.”

She nodded, determined then that she wasn’t going to be weak. She wasn’t going to cry on his shoulder.

She started for her bedroom and then paused. “Liam?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I was just thinking. I’m sorry for messing up your life—”

“Serena, you didn’t mess up my life.”

“Sharon—”

“Don’t worry about Sharon.”

“But that photo must have upset her. She came down to the studio because of it.”

“I asked her to go.”

“But Liam, that’s my fault.”

“Serena, stop it. I make my own choices about things, and things—”

“Just weren’t working out?” she supplied dryly.

“Serena, let’s forget about it, all right?”

She nodded.

“Go. I’ll make you a drink. You really do have to get some sleep.”

Serena went into her bathroom, ran a hot bath with lots of oil and bubbles, and sank into it. She made the water very hot, and it felt good. Yet she couldn’t relax. She kept thinking of Melinda, Jeff, the poisoned candy, all in a chaotic whirl.

She closed her eyes, trying to let the water work its magic.

“Serena?” Liam was calling her from the bedroom door. She hadn’t closed it, or the door to the bathroom.

“Yes?” She hesitated. She had enough bubbles to form a blanket of white foam all over her, but what did that matter? “Come in.”

He walked into the bedroom, then paused at the bathroom door. He had a tall glass in his hand.

“Want this in here?” he asked.

“Sure. What is it?”

“Bourbon and coke. Very strong.”

“Good. Thanks.”

He walked to the tub, sitting back on her oak laundry hamper to hand it to her.

“Thanks very much.”

“My pleasure. I sipped it first, by the way, to test it.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking, some dark cop humor. “Do you think that … that someone got in
here?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No. The doors and windows were all secure; the alarm hasn’t been tampered with in any way. I called the company and checked. Anyone else have a key to the place?”

She nodded. “Jennifer.”

“Not your sister?”

“No. Actually, you know, she did have one. But she lost her key chain ages ago.”

“She lost it?” he said sharply.

“Out in the desert somewhere. They were on vacation a few months ago. No one could have found it, and known it was mine.”

He didn’t reply. She knew he was thinking she needed to have her locks changed anyway.

“Liam, I really don’t believe that my brother-in-law would hurt me.”

“Drink that.”

She took a long swallow. It burned from her throat to her stomach, and it felt good.

The phone started ringing.

“I’ll get it,” he told her.

“There’s a machine—”

“That’s all right. I’ll get it.”

He left the bedroom. A moment later, she heard the deep drone of his voice. He reappeared, a drink in hand himself.

“Who was it?”

“Jeff.”

“Jeff? You should have called me.”

“He just called to say that he and Melinda were both home and together and Melinda was fine, and that he would never hurt you, and he wanted you to know that.”

“I should have told him that I know that.”

“It’s all right. I said it for you.”

“But you’re the one warning me … the one who thinks that he’s guilty!”

“Guilty of something. That affair you won’t admit your sister told you about. It would be better if he admitted to the police that he did have a relationship with Jane Dunne.”

“He’s not angry with me at all?”

“No. Definitely not. Jeff was fine, very calm. He doesn’t really blame the police. He denies that he bought the candy. And you know, it is possible to steal a credit card number. Jeff will talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

She bit her lower lip and nodded.

He was still staring at her.

“What?” she asked softly.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking of how much I want to sleep with you.”

She smiled and gripped the edge of the tub to stand. He grabbed a towel for her, and she stepped into it. He wrapped it around her, pulling her tightly against him. Then he caught her chin, lifted it, and kissed her lips.

She felt as if she were melting …

He had that effect on her. He kissed her with a passion that was consuming, lips and tongue instantly creating a molten heat that fired straight through her limbs. She was glad he was holding her. Her knees were weak, as if they would give way any minute and refuse to hold her up. She felt the restriction of the towel, anxious to slip her arms around him, hold to the power of his shoulders, feel the length of his hair beneath her fingers. He smelled wonderful, delicious, and tasted like the rich, amber-toned bourbon they’d been drinking. She could have stood there forever, feeling the force and hunger of his lips, the simple pressure of his body against hers, but she wanted more. Her hands slid between them, fingers deftly, eagerly working at the buttons of his shirt. A minute later he was struggling out of it, his tongue still entwined with hers. Then she was crushed to him again, her towel fallen, his shirt gone, and the naked expanse of his chest hard against her breasts. At last they broke the kiss, gazing at each other. Serena gasped in a long breath, then moved against him again, the top of her head against his chin as she splayed her fingers over his chest, feeling the rough texture of the crisp dark hair, then brushing the tips of her fingers down his ribs to rest on the band of his Dockers and slip beneath it. She pressed her mouth to his chest, running her tongue against it, then rose on her toes to meet his lips again. He swept her up, and they moved to her bed. But when she fell against it, she sat up, aware of the pounding of her heart as he shed his pants and briefs and came toward her. She rose to her knees on the mattress before he could come down. She laid her cheek against his chest again, holding him there, reveling in the sheer pleasure of touching him again. She loved everything about him; the feel and texture and movement of him, the color of his flesh, his hair, the ripple when she touched him, the tension, the heat. Her lips fell against him in erratic little movements, evocative, wet, fulfilling. His fingers tangled into her hair, and a groan escaped him. She loved the sound of it, deep and throaty, reverberating through the length of him. She drew her hands down his back, around his buttocks. Then she stroked his thighs with the backs of her fingers, his abdomen with the lure of her tongue, and brought both closer and closer to the center until she slipped her fingers around the hardness of his arousal, worked them, found the intimacy so arousing that she could not bear it. He savored her aggression for so long, then shuddered, hoarsely groaning, whispering, lifting her head, finding her lips with his own again, and pressing her back with passionate force that brought her beneath him, gasping, trembling with the sudden power of his thrust into her, a movement that sent streaks of lightning throughout her, shattering in its initial moment, building with each subsequent rugged thrust, drawing her into a desperate frenzy to reach a culmination. She clung to him, heart racing, thundering … and then it seemed that the heavens opened, and stars rained down upon her, and she couldn’t breathe at all, but she could hear herself, and she couldn’t stand to let him go, to withdraw from her, until a wave of shocks swept through her, and she felt as if she were a lava bed, filled with liquid fire that was awesome, and yet cooling, so slowly, so slowly …

How had she ever lived without him?

But that wasn’t the question.

How had he walked away so easily?

She wouldn’t ask him that, and she wouldn’t whisper that she had been in love with him, that she loved the way that he made love, that nothing in her life had ever been so good before. She wouldn’t pressure him in any way, and she’d keep her mouth shut about Sharon, even if it killed her to think that he had been this way with another woman, that he was here with her now because she was in danger, because … the sex was so good.

She eased her arms from around him, allowing him to fall to one side. He pulled her against him, holding her, his thumb stroking the line of her jaw. After a moment he asked her, “What are you thinking?”

She tried to be light. “I’m thinking that if I’m going to die, this is the way to go.”

He didn’t laugh, or even smile, but rolled back over. His features were hard and strong and tense when he said, “I’m not going to let that happen.”

She smiled, touching the rugged contour of his cheek. “Thank you.”

He watched her so closely that she began to feel uneasy, afraid that she would burst into tears again, say things that she shouldn’t say, that would only bring further hurt to her later.

“I guess I really do need some sleep.”

“Want me in the guest room?”

She shook her head. “No, I want you right here.”

“Let me look around the house one more time.”

“You really think there’s any danger?”

“No, but I know someone has been out there at times.”

He rose, crawled quickly into his Dockers, and disappeared. Serena got up as well, ripping the comforter down and sliding beneath the coolness of the sheets. She was amazed at how easy it was to close her eyes. Soon he was back, and he slid in beside her. Naked, warm. An arm curled around her. She set her hand upon his, where it lay at her waist.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“No problem.”

She smiled. “Honestly, I never would be able to sleep without you here tonight.”

“I take my work very seriously,” he teased.

She didn’t respond to that. She did sleep.

Sometime in the night, she awakened, feeling something pressing against her. Liam. She turned into his arms.

Sex with him was delicious even when she was half asleep.

After that she slept deeply.

That was good, because from the moment they reached the studio, the day promised to be long.

The cops were everywhere once again.

Bill Hutchens was in charge. He was polite, courteous, treating them all with respect and consideration. He made use of Joe Penny’s office, going through another round of questioning with everyone regarding the box of candy. Serena, with Liam at her side, told him everything she knew—which wasn’t much. Why she’d thought Jeff had sent it—the brand—and why she was certain after she opened it that Jeff hadn’t sent it—he knew she hated chocolate-covered cherries.

Hutchens didn’t press her as hard as she had expected. He leaned forward, eyes grave and serious. “Stick with Liam. Or me. Or another cop. Don’t be alone with anyone who might remotely be a suspect. Watch every move you make. Don’t trust friends, or family.”

“Yes, Bill, I promise,” she told him.

When they went down to the studio, Joe Penny was glum, sitting on the edge of the cottage set, one leg crossed over the other, leafing through one of the soap magazines.

Liam stopped just off the set to talk to Conar. Serena, in jeans and a T-shirt, sat on the floor near Joe, looking up at him.

“Hey, Joe, we’re going to make it through this.”

Joe shook his head. “Serena, I’m really worried about you.”

She waved a hand in the air, determined not to tell him that she was becoming afraid herself. “We are having some bad days here, aren’t we? Did you get your drink last night?”

“Oh, yeah. I stopped by Amesbury’s.” He slapped the magazine down in sudden anger. “The guy is a true little prick. He was nice as could be, but then he starts telling me he’s a voyeur. Of life, and human foibles, so he says. Men … women too, though they’re not his preference. He says that life is one great journey to be explored.”

She didn’t comment. Joe himself loved to party, and he loved to date. The more women he had around him, the happier he was. She wondered if he had any clue that Kyle Amesbury videotaped his guests. Liam was still keeping quiet about the tape he had stolen that featured Jane.

“Joe, you probably shouldn’t have gone over there.”

“You’re right.” He shook his head again. “Such a pathetic little upstart. I ought to tell him to take Haines/Clark and stick the whole shebang where the sun don’t shine. But do I dare do that now?”

“Joe, money rules Hollywood. And this show brings in many, many viewers. Yes, this is horrible, but we’ll survive it.”

He didn’t even seem to hear her.

“We’re going to, yes. I’m going to make sure that
you
survive. You’re going to take some time off,” he said with conviction.

“Joe, we have to keep going.”

“Not if something might happen to you. Take some time, Serena. Investigations can’t be done in a day. The cops need time.”

“All right, agreed. I’ll take a break. But before I do …”

“What?”

“Let’s double up on my scenes. Get the tape in the can, and then we’ll be ahead of the game. What do you think about that?”

He smiled slowly. “I guess we could do that. We’ll shoot like wildfire. Then you’ll take a break.”

“We’ll do it,” she said.

He was looking over her head. “Looks like it’s my turn with Bill Hutchens. Like he didn’t talk to me long enough, all those hours at the hospital yesterday.”

“Bill is pretty gentle,” Serena said.

He rose. “Here I go.”

She gave him a thumbs-up sign. “Oh, I called the hospital. Jinx is fine. She’s insisting on leaving the hospital this afternoon.”

“I know. I called too.”