Profile of Evil (17 page)

The sheriff was now showing Stone his brand-new Jeep and flirting with her like he was a damn teenager. Seriously? Brody Chase was a fucking idiot, and that the man had discovered the graves he’d dug for dead slaves still pissed him off. He felt his temper rise, but he worked to keep it in check. He had to stay in control, because once the demons took over, there was no telling what he would do. Right now, the important thing was to keep watch over the consultant, the sheriff and his brothers. What did they know? How close were they to discovering his identity?

Cameron Chase entered the parking lot and strode toward his unmarked car. He followed Cameron as he turned right on Main Street. When the detective parked outside the Greyhound bus station, he smirked as he noted the security camera cheap-ass Ernie McBride had installed. It was pointed toward the parking lot, and was as fake as a three dollar bill, just like the ones inside. Good luck finding surveillance footage, Detective Chase.

Pulling out of the parking lot, he headed toward the public library so he could use their Wi-Fi to visit Teen Chat. The week before, he’d hooked up online with Amber Patterson, a thirteen-year-old from Nashville, Indiana, who was the wild-child daughter of wealthy parents who spoiled her rotten. Bored at school, failing her classes, and experimenting with sex and drugs, poor Amber was being threatened by her wealthy parents to improve her bad behavior or else. How lucky she’d found him to lend a sympathetic ear to her troubles with her strict parents. A slow, evil smile spread over his face. It wouldn’t be long before he could move from empathetic to romantic, and then persuade Amber Patterson to join him in Shawnee County. Game on.

<><><>

Brody was pushing a shopping cart inside the IGA grocery store, while Carly directed him to the things she needed for her recipe. If he was trying to curtail local gossip about his love life, shopping with Carly was not the way to do it. They were getting so many stares, he started to sympathize with celebrities' battles with the paparazzi. There was no such thing as privacy for public officials in a small town. Why people were so curious about his love life was beyond him.

It was his first time shopping for food with a beautiful woman and he found he liked it — a lot. Carly Stone was certainly not hard to look at, he thought, as he admired her tight, little behind. Every time she reached for something, her typical buttoned-up work shirt rose, giving him a glimpse of her smooth skin beneath. He got so turned on, he made an excuse to find a bottle of wine in another aisle. As soon as he turned the corner, he bumped into Gabe, who was smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"Hey, Gabe," he said.

"I never would have believed it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"Believed what?" Brody asked, even though he worried about what Gabe was about to say.

"That you let Carly drive your new Jeep. How many times have Cam and I asked you if we could drive it, and you turned us down flat?"

"This is different. I can just see you and Cam taking it for a joy ride or off-roading or worse, mudding at the Badlands. It's not likely Carly is going to do any of those things. Besides, I promised I'd have a vehicle for her while she was here working."

"Uh-huh," Gabe said with a smirk, clearly not believing him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

As he turned to head for the check-out line, Gabe said over his shoulder, "I think my big brother has called off his moratorium for relationships and one-night stands."

Rolling his eyes and groaning, Brody turned back to the wine selection wondering what wine goes with Italian food.

"Chianti might be nice," said Carly, as she rested her warm hand on the middle of his back. It was the first time she'd touched him, and his body tingled with awareness. "Was that Gabe I just saw? Do you think he'd want to join us for dinner?"

"No," Brody said a little too quickly. Then he lied. "He has plans."

"Oh, okay. So what sounds good for dessert, cheesecake or tiramisu?"

"You choose. I like them both."

"Tiramisu it is," said Carly, as she led him to the dessert section.

<><><>

Carly opened the door and Brody entered the cottage wearing a light yellow V-neck sweater that stretched across his powerful chest and faded jeans that fit him like a glove. The man radiated testosterone and she'd been going through some serious withdrawal. She could feel the giveaway heat in her face.

Carrying a bottle of Chianti, Brody handed it to her and looked toward the huge stone fireplace. "Would you like for me to start a fire?"

Carly managed to say, "Yes" and took the wine to the kitchen. Considering every hormone in her body was sizzling, Brody Chase had already ignited one fire. Walking into the kitchen, she laid the wine on the island, and searched for a corkscrew.

Things had changed between them, and she knew the exact moment it had happened. Earlier in the conference room, she stood watching Sam Isley and Brody interact. She'd always thought of her former lover as being bigger than life, but he paled in comparison to Brody Chase. Only an inch or so taller than Sam, Brody seemed to tower over him, looking huge, powerful, and very dangerous. Polite and professional, he handled Sam Isley, but there was no mistaking who was in charge.

But it was the hug that did her in. What started as the kindest gesture she'd experienced in a long time, the action, slow and deliberate, ignited a need deep in her that she fought to extinguish, but it kindled brighter and hotter as she melted against him. Sparks of excitement shot through her, and it was difficult to hide her disappointment when he pulled away. That was the exact moment she knew she had to have Brody Chase. Carly wanted him in her bed, and in her life — the sooner the better.

The rest of the day, she'd let herself fantasize about getting involved with him. Imagining working together during the day, and afterwards making slow, sensual love in every room of the cottage at night.

Brody brushed past her in the kitchen, and used the sink to wash his hands. Turning, he seemed to notice her for the first time, and a flicker of the heat like the one she'd seen in his eyes in the conference room flashed across his expression. He was appraising her with more than mild interest, and Carly felt a burst of pure feminine pleasure. She wanted him to find her desirable. Better yet, she wanted him to find her irresistible.

<><><>

"The food smells amazing," Brody said as he pulled the corkscrew out of her hand. Opening the Chianti, he poured a glass for Carly and handed it to her. Standing before him in a low-cut, white top embellished with tiny turquoise beads and a long, ruffled denim skirt, she had a curvy body that pushed all of his buttons in a very big way. There were two Carly Stones, he decided. There was the stuffy, buttoned-up former federal agent, and the tantalizingly sexy woman who stood before him. Their gazes locked and a crackle of energy passed between them, an undeniable pull. All he could think about was how much he wanted to press her sweet body against his.

He tried to think of a woman to whom he was ever this attracted, but he couldn't name one — not even Mollie. Carly was the first to come to mind and the thought was unsettling. Clenching his jaw, he gritted his teeth as he fought his feelings. He had no business fantasizing about Carly, no matter how attracted he was to her. With all the available women in the world, why this one?

Pulling the baking pan of chicken parmigiana out of the oven, Carly sprinkled a thick layer of mozzarella on top and then returned the dish to the oven to melt the cheese.

"Ten more minutes," she announced to Brody, who was pulling dinner plates out of a cabinet and silverware out of a drawer and placing them on the kitchen island.

"Lucky for me, your Italian grandmother was a chef," said Brody with a grin. "Were you able to spend much time with her?" Knowing little about her personal life, he realized he wanted to know everything.

"Yes. Blake and I spent a portion of every summer with her. Some of my favorite memories are cooking with my grandmother and Blake in the kitchen of her restaurant."

"You're lucky. Both my grandparents died at an early age, so I don't remember much about them."

From the refrigerator, Carly pulled out fresh lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, and mushrooms for the salad. Brody washed the vegetables at the sink while Carly set out a cutting board on the island. Cutting the vegetables as Carly tore the lettuce into pieces, Brody decided he liked working in the kitchen with her. He savored the warm nearness of her body, and the way she brushed up against him as she worked. Every time he got near her, he felt this buzz of sexual awareness.

The oven timer sounded, and Brody pulled the heavy pan of pasta out of the oven, sliced it into squares, and placed a square on each of their plates along with a scoop of salad with dressing. They retreated to the dining room to have their meal.

Shoveling a mouthful of parmigiana into his mouth, Brody moaned with pleasure. "This is incredible, Carly."

"I had some stiff competition from your steak and salad the other night," she replied with an easy smile that played at the corners of her mouth.

Brody didn't know if the moment was right, or if there would be a right time to ask her, so he plodded ahead, "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Since I've already blasted some personal inquiries your way, how can I say no?"

"Who is Sam Isley?"

Carly visibly tensed and a moment of silence passed before she answered. "Sam Isley was my supervisor when I was with the Bureau in Tampa."

"I think he was more than your supervisor. That was obvious by the way he looked at you," Brody replied. Dancing around the topic wasn't happening. He wanted the whole truth, not a portion of it.

"It's not something I'm proud of, but I was involved with Sam. It turned out to be one of my biggest mistakes."

Watching her over the rim of his wine glass, he asked, "Because he was your supervisor?"

"Yes, because he was my supervisor and because he is who he is."

"Why was he here today?"

"Sam wants me to come back to the agency in Tampa ..."

Brody interrupted. "And to him?"

"Yes, but neither is going to happen. I have no desire to return to the bureau and even less to be with Sam Isley. He's a part of my past I want to forget."

"Are you sure about that?" Brody wanted to know, as he started to gather their plates. He waited uneasily for her response.

"More sure than I've ever been about anything."

<><><>

While Brody was in the kitchen, Carly settled on the sofa in the living room, watching the fire licking the logs in the fireplace. Thinking about Sam Isley was her least favorite activity and talking about him was something she detested. She hated the mix of anger and humiliation that washed over her whenever she thought of her ex-lover. The last thing she wanted to do was spend any more of the evening talking about Sam to Brody.

Moving to the stereo, Carly flipped it on and soon the soulful sound of "Any Love" by Luther Vandross filled the room. Brody soon joined her with the bottle of Chianti and their two wine glasses. Squatting down to feed the fire another chunk of wood, Brody said, "I see you've found Mom's old CDs."

"I love this whole collection. I found CDs from Tina Turner, Aretha Franklin, and Prince. I've been playing them every night after work."

"Really?"

"I'm a big fan of eighties and nineties music. When I was growing up, most kids had mothers who sang them lullabies. My mom sang Aretha Franklin and Tina Turner songs to me."

Pulling the wine glass from Brody's hand, she set it on the table and opened up her arms to him. "Dance with me."

Her fingers curled around his hand, as his arm wound around her waist, supporting her as they swayed sensuously to the music. Holding her gently, he rocked her back and forth as she softly sang along with the song. The warmth and scent of him was so male, so bracing. Relaxing, she sank into his embrace, her head fitting perfectly in the hollow between his shoulder and neck. Pressing her hands against his chest, she felt his heart pounding wildly beneath his hot skin. Tightening her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer, molding his rock hard body to her, and capturing his mouth in a slow kiss that deepened with mind-blowing intensity. A delightful shiver of need ran through her, as she pressed even closer to him.

Kissing her thoroughly and possessively with his entire body, Brody ignited a bone-melting fire that rushed through her veins. She opened her mouth, eager for the taste and feel of his tongue stroking hers. Sealing his mouth over hers, he took full possession of her lips, kissing her, exploring her mouth with his tongue until she was so aroused every hormone in her body sizzled.

As suddenly as the kiss began, it stopped, leaving her trembling with her thoughts spinning. Cradling her face in his hands, Brody closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. Breathing hard, the muscle at the side of his jaw tightened. He kissed the top of her head and rushed out the door.

"Brody?"