If Looks Could Kill (12 page)

“Damn it, Madison, don't be so defensive. We're not at war.”

“But I'm all right. I've been living my life—”

He exhaled on a long, explosive note. “Please! Madison, I'm worried about you.”

“Well, you know, Kyle,” she said quietly, “I was really worried about you at one time, but you were a grown man and there was nothing I could do except to accept the fact that you didn't want me around. I'm grown up, now, too, Kyle. You don't need to be worried about me.”

He stood up so suddenly that his chair nearly toppled over. He caught it, sliding it with a vengeance beneath the table.

He caught the waitress near the hostess stand and paid the check. Madison watched as he spoke with the girl, being both charming and earnest.

She seemed charmed in response, but she was an open, friendly girl, and she turned back to Madison, smiling sweetly and waving.

Obviously she thought that they were a couple.

They left the restaurant and drove to Carrie Anne's school in silence, except for a few brief directions.

Kyle drove on to her house. Madison was quiet as Carrie Anne chatted excitedly about her school program, coming at the end of the year.

Kyle was good with her. He knew how to listen to kids. He seemed as interested in her kindergarten program as he would be in some crime-lab technique.

He dropped them at Madison's house, and though he surveyed the outside of her Old Spanish golf-course home, he refused to come in when she politely offered him coffee, even though Carrie Anne excitedly urged him to do so.

“I have to get back to work,” he told Carrie Anne sadly, scrunching up his nose. “First day on the job down here. I have to be good.”

“You can't come in just for a minute?” Carrie Anne asked wistfully.

He shook his head, his eyes strangely clouded, as he reached out the window and tousled her hair. “There's nothing I'd rather do than spend the afternoon with such a lovely young lady, but I really have to go to work.”

Carrie Anne accepted that. Madison felt a strange tremor snake along her spine as she watched Kyle.

He had meant that. Of course. He had to be wondering if his own daughter would have been like Carrie Anne if she ever had a chance to draw breath.

Then his eyes were on hers. And she wasn't thinking about children, or the killer on the loose. She was looking back at him, and the tremors that raked her were suddenly as hot as flaming coals.

Sex.

Just sex.

If they were alone…

If he was naked…

Oh, God.

She waved, took Carrie Anne's hand, and headed quickly into the house.

H
is phone rang at five.

Kyle reached over and answered it, staring at the clock as he did so. His alarm had been set for six.

It was Jimmy on the phone. “We've got a torso.”

Kyle rubbed his chin. “Where are you?”

“Out on the Trail. Right off Krome.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“We might have something. A clue.”

“Yeah?”

“A tattoo just below the navel. A rose, with thorns. The medical examiner on the job out here says it looks new.”

“A rose…with thorns?”

“There were fresh roses in Maria Garcia's house, the still-missing second victim. And our Jane Doe in the morgue—”

“Rose tattoo, upper left buttock,” Kyle said, quoting from the forensics report he had read while still in Washington. “I'll be with you as soon as possible.”

He hung up and jumped out of bed.

Their killer had revealed something of himself, leaving his calling cards.

Roses…

With thorns.

 

Kaila Adair Aubrey wound her fingers into the sheets at her sides and gritted on her teeth, staring up at the ceiling.

“Talk to me, baby, talk to me.”

Talk.

Men wanted women to
talk.

She just didn't have a damned thing left to say right now. It wasn't that Dan wasn't a decent lover; he was. Or he could be. But sex seemed like everything else in their lives to her right then—all
him.
And this just wasn't doing a damned thing for her. She wasn't in the mood for a big fight or a showdown; she didn't know how to articulate all that she had to say as yet. And if she couldn't get her thoughts out right, he would dismiss her completely—as males were so wont to do—by assuring himself that she was just being a bitch with PMS and he was the poor, misunderstood, hardworking provider. “Kaila…” He groaned her name.

At least he still had that right.

She'd been growing afraid over the past few months, with his everlasting work hours, his constant business dinners, that he was sleeping with someone else. She still thought he might be, and the thought hurt, but it was the same as everything else. When she even hinted at such a fear, he got hurt and furious and impatient. Of course, she was in a better position than lots of young wives with small children who were worried about their husbands; she could run home to a rich daddy. No, it wasn't the money that kept her quietly in her home and with her husband. It was the insecurity, the confusion, the not knowing. Was there something—someone?—else out there for her? Or did she love her husband? Was he really what she wanted? Was she just tired, feeling old, feeling used up, feeling that she'd never be decently thin again after so many children so quickly? God forgive her, she was grateful that the kids were fine and healthy, but…

But she was a mess.

And would she go crazy if she let Dan go and he did fall in love with someone else, forgetting all about her? She did love him, she did, she was just so…

Wound up.

And not in the mood.

But she'd been obliging rather than argumentative, though right now she simply wasn't involved at all, despite the fact that he was all slick and sweaty and grinding into her.

At last he climaxed. Fell on her. Heavy. Rolled to the side.

He tousled her hair.

They lay in silence.

A few minutes later he started touching her. She gritted her teeth again, but then, to her surprise, she began to feel aroused. She pressed into him. They kissed. His hands ran up and down her. She eased against him, rubbing her body against his. Nuzzled the thick mat of hair around his navel.

“Come on, do me, baby, do me,” he groaned.

It was as if she had been doused with cold water.

Kaila held still for a minute, her head lowered against his belly, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She knew what he wanted, of course. And she could have slid on down the length of his body and taken him in her mouth, just like he wanted. Except, she just didn't feel like it.

She didn't feel like talking him into an erection, or working hard at arousing him, either. She wanted to be seduced, swept off her feet.

She stood up suddenly. Her husband opened his eyes, staring at her in surprise.

“I can't
do
anything but oatmeal,” she said irritably, walking toward the bathroom. “The kids will be waking up.”

She heard him brushing his teeth while she was in the shower. When she stepped out, he stepped in. He didn't look at her.

He showered. She brushed her teeth and moisturized her face.

He came out, toweled himself. She looked at him in the mirror. Dan had dark-blond hair, neatly cut—good legal hair. He kept himself in shape. He had light blue-green eyes and managed to keep a good tan, as well. Having kids didn't do things to men at all. He was tall and well built and good-looking. She wanted him; she didn't want him. She loved him; she hated him.

She wondered if she was suffering from some strange disease.

He wrapped his towel around himself. “If you don't want to do something, Kaila, just tell me.”

“I did—”

“No. The first time. It was like making love to a dead tree.”

That one hurt.

“I'm sorry.”

“All you had to do was say something.”

“I was trying to be a good wife.”

“Yeah. Sure. There's nothing like making a man feel totally inadequate to make him feel he's got the best damned wife in the world.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Kaila told him softly.

“I'd definitely have more fun,” he assured her.

Stung, she stood perfectly still.

She had known that she was unhappy.

It hadn't occurred to her that
he
was miserable, too. And now she wondered more than ever if he was having an affair.

He walked out to the bedroom and started dressing. Shaking, she slipped into a robe and hurried out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

She went mechanically through the functions of the morning, waking Justin and Shelley, starting breakfast.

Shelley was quickly howling and in tears because she couldn't find one of her sneakers, and she had to wear her sneakers, because they were getting new playground equipment that day.

Anthony—who was mostly weaned, but not completely—threw his kiddie cup on the floor and screamed for her.

Justin decided to help, with his own cornflakes, and spilled the milk all over the table and on the floor. Naturally, that was when Dan walked in.

“Jesus, Kaila,” he said. “Looks like I'll be a little late,” he muttered.

“You might have thought of that earlier,” she bit out cattily.

“I should have thought of that earlier.”

He started mopping up Justin and the table and the milk. Kaila knew she was about to burst into tears. “I've got it, just go. Just get out. You can be late for everything else in the world, but don't be late for that precious job of yours.”

“Well, you know what, Kaila? At least, at work, people like me. Amazing how that can make you feel happy to be somewhere!”

He threw down the towel with which he'd been soaking up the milk and stormed out of the house.

The rest of the morning seemed to take forever. She got Justin and Shelley off to their various schools and finally had Anthony happy and in a good mood. Her housekeeper, Anna, arrived. Anna was a wonderful Latin woman with a flair for handling children. She whisked through the kitchen in a matter of minutes, got the laundry going and came into Shelley's room, where Kaila was looking through piles of toys to find the still-missing sneaker. “You have tennis this morning, no?”

“I was going to take a lesson, but…”

“You go. You get out of the house. Have a good time.”

“Things are kind of in a shambles this morning.”

“Kaila, I work for you, yes? I'll pick up the shambles. That's my job. I'm good at it. You pay me well, and you have cute, good little children. Go, go, shoo!”

Kaila went to her lesson. The weather was already hotter than Hades. She saw a few friends on the courts, and they asked her to lunch.

She called Anna, who had no problem picking Shelley up at one and Justin at two.

She went to lunch at the country club. She had two piña coladas. Her head was spinning.

She said goodbye to her friends, then headed back to the locker room to change. Her sneakers seemed to slap against the cement as she entered the changing building, walking down the hallway between the men's and ladies' lockers, rest rooms and showers.

It was oddly quiet.

She was startled and nearly screamed when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Kaila!”

She spun around.

He
was there. Looking so handsome. He'd been playing tennis. He was in white. His skin was so bronze. He flashed his teeth in a perfect, tender smile.

“You look scrumptious!” he told her.

She smiled. She felt somewhat silly; two drinks laced strongly with rum in the middle of the day were a bit much.

“Thanks.”

“You ready to have an affair with me yet?” he asked. His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. He backed her gently against the wall, his fingers moving over her face.

“I…can't.”

“You know you will.”

She smiled, looking at him, shaking her head. “We just really couldn't…I mean…it wouldn't be right. I mean, not at all.”

She giggled. Damn the piña coladas.

He pressed against her. His lips were suddenly on hers. Molding, passionate. She felt a stirring. The piña coladas, she told herself. She was kissing him back. Just a kiss. More than a kiss. Tongues meshing. Wet. Stifling. She needed more air. Strange. She was both excited…

And repelled.

A slight sense of panic pervaded her. His hands were on her, molding her breast, sliding up her thigh. She felt his touch against naked flesh, dangerously close to intimate.

“Sleep with me, love me…” he whispered fervently against her lips.

She suddenly wanted to push him away. But he broke away from her. “I love you. I can wait until you're ready. The time is coming. I can taste it when we kiss…” he whispered. “There's so much more I want to taste, to lick. To kiss. I want to make it so good. Lick you here…here…”

He moved his fingers to show her. She inhaled sharply, shocked. She'd only been toying with this idea so far. This was more than play. More than fantasy.

It was too real.

“But I can wait. I
will
wait. Because it will be so much better when I wait…. You'll want me. When I finish with you, I promise, you'll want me.”

“I…”

She couldn't speak.

He brushed her cheek tenderly, deep understanding in his eyes.

He walked away from her whistling.

An acquaintance passed him by on the way to the men's lockers. They spoke, jovial, laughing.

Kaila leaned against the wall, her knees buckling. She was shaking.

Once again, she didn't know what she wanted.

Fantasy had been so much fun. Imagining a lover. Handsome, charming, devoted entirely to making her feel wonderful. Adoring her, a lover who knew just where and when and how she wanted to be touched…

But she suddenly felt…dirty.

She was getting exactly what she had wanted, except that she didn't really want it.

She wanted to cry again.

She finally managed to push herself away from the wall and head into the locker room. She had to get her relationship with him back on a friendly keel. Unless, of course, Dan
was
having an affair. Then she would be so mad that she'd sleep with the first person available.

Him.

She paused before her locker, smiling. The feeling of repulsion for her almost-out-of-the-question would-be lover faded. He was a sweetie. A charming man who knew how to make her feel better. Like an attractive, desirable woman again—even if she did occasionally wear oatmeal and spit-up.

He'd left her roses. Beautiful red roses. A dozen of them. They were lying on the bench directly in front of her locker.

She picked them up, smiling, then muttered, “Ouch!” and sucked on her finger where she had acquired a tiny drop of blood.

These roses had thorns.

Still, the very idea of roses was so romantic and sexy and sweet….