Still Waters (14 page)

“Is that what you’re looking for?” He could have bitten off his tongue. Why the hell had he asked that damned question? Because he was this close—he mentally imagined his thumb and forefinger a fraction of an inch apart—to being a fool twice in one lifetime. At least he hadn’t announced that he’d just been thinking the same thing. He’d already noticed far too many commonalities between them.

Her brow furrowed as she contemplated the question. He busied himself with stuffing the plastic grocery bags into the recycle bin.

“I absolutely want it, just not now. My career is top priority.” She drew in a big breath. “Before I’m forty I’d like to be married and focused on making a family.”

He allowed his gaze to rest on hers once more. The seriousness in her green eyes made his gut tighten. “Sounds like a plan.”

He could see himself taking a similar path when he was older. Just another example of how alike they thought. Sean stopped himself. He was intensely attracted to Amber and they had a great deal in common, but that didn’t mean they belonged together.
Get your head out of your—

“Would you mind taking a walk with me?”

Sean blinked. “Sorry. What?”

“I’ve felt like a prisoner for two days. I need to get outside, breathe some fresh air and just walk off some of the stress. I hate to ask, but apparently I’m not supposed to go anywhere alone.”

“Sure.” He reached for the key. Usually he wouldn’t bother locking up for a stroll around the property, but this was different. Until Thrasher and whoever else might be involved were found, Amber had to be protected.

The sky had darkened a little more but there was still plenty of daylight for a short walk. Over the years several paths had been formed along interesting views on the property. A long circle around the pond and then a meandering trail through the woods to the river. The air was crisp but not actually cold.

Maybe a walk had been a good idea.

“Do you come here every Christmas?”

The soft, lyrical sound of her voice meshed perfectly with the natural beauty around them. Funny how he noticed all those little things when he didn’t want to. He should never have kissed her. That sweet taste would never be enough. “I do.”

“I’ll bet you cut your Christmas tree from these very woods.”

Sean laughed. “We do actually. My grandfather insisted that two be planted for each one we cut. Every year on Christmas Eve, my parents drag two small evergreens up here to plant.”

“Your grandfather was a smart man.”

Sean wished he were a lot smarter and maybe he wouldn’t be standing here dying to kiss her again. Then again, maybe what he really needed was courage.

Chapter Fourteen

7:30 p.m.

The scent of marinara sauce filled the kitchen, and Amber’s stomach grumbled. She placed the salad she’d prepared on the dining table. The long farmer’s table seated ten. She could imagine the big family gatherings around the holidays. The large fireplace on the other side of the room would be roaring at Christmastime. The freshly cut tree would stand tall before the front window. She closed her eyes and imagined the smell of freshly baked cookies. Though her family holidays were usually celebrated in the city at her parents’ Mountain Brook home, she’d gotten a taste of a true country Christmas as a child. Her grandparents on her mother’s side had lived on a small farm in Blount County. She’d spent a few Christmases there.

She remembered the towering, freshly cut trees. Her grandparents always waited until Christmas Eve to place the final decoration on their tree. The star that topped its peak was saved for Amber’s mother to set in place. Her grandmother insisted that her only child, Amber’s mother, had placed that star atop the tree since she was old enough to hold it, and she wasn’t letting go of that tradition as long as she was breathing.

By the time her grandmother reached thirty, she’d already been married with a daughter running around the home where she and her husband had started many wonderful traditions. Amber straightened the linen napkins next to the two plates. Her only traditions were spending holidays with her family—if work didn’t get in the way. Those traditions were actually her parents’, not hers. She didn’t have any holiday traditions, or any other kind for that matter. She had work.

“Hot stuff headed your way,” Sean announced as he moved around her to place the bowl of sauce and the mound of plated pasta on the table.

Amber bit her lips together to prevent mentioning that the food wasn’t the only hot stuff in the room. Then and there she admitted defeat. The man got to her. He made her want to explore feelings she’d spent the past year telling herself she no longer cared about. After the breakup with her fiancé, she had decided she would wait a few years or ten before getting involved in another serious personal relationship. How had this man—in a mere seventy, give or take a few, hours—changed her mind so completely?

A hand waved in front of her face. “You still with me?”

Her gaze settled on his, and she melted a little more even as the sound of his deep voice made her shiver.

“Are you cold?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

Her pulse skittered, and she mentally scrambled to find her voice. “No, no. I’m not cold at all.” In fact, she was burning up.

“Sit.” He pulled out a chair. “I’ll run down to the cellar and get a bottle of wine.”

Amber prepared her plate. A small serving of salad and pasta. The smell of the sauce had her mouth watering and her appetite resurrecting. Maybe eating was what she needed to take her mind off sex and Sean. Really, her inability to ignore her attraction to him surely had to do with twelve months of celibacy. Had she chosen to abstain from sex since the breakup? Not really. She simply hadn’t taken the time to socialize.

The truth was she hadn’t been on a date in six or seven months.

Sean returned with a bottle of wine and a bottle of water. He placed the bottle of water next to his glass and deftly opened the bottle of wine. He reached for her glass. “Say when.”

Amber moistened her lips as he poured the red wine. “When,” she remembered to say as the stemmed glass grew half full.

He set the bottle aside and claimed his chair. Rather than pour himself a glass of wine, he added water to his glass, and then reached for the pasta.

“You’re not having wine?” She downed a hefty swallow to calm her nerves.

“Can’t.” He grinned as he smothered the angel-hair pasta with sauce.

The heat that had kindled inside her at just being in the same room with him extinguished. “Right. Of course. You’re on duty.” It was his job to be here with her.

She really, really was losing her grip. None of this was real. The silky texture of the full-bodied wine soured on her tongue. What was wrong with her? A man was dead, two innocent women—his victims—had been murdered. Being trapped on the radar of this former killing partnership had turned her life upside down. Had left her vulnerable to her own fundamental desires. The fear of death made her want to celebrate life. She downed another swallow of wine.

Since he’d already dug in, she forced herself to eat. Her appetite had vanished again, but she had the foresight to understand the wine would go straight to her head if she didn’t eat. They had forgotten to pick up rolls. Saved her a few carbs.

“Is everything okay?”

She realized then that he’d already cleaned his plate and was going for seconds. “It’s great.” Another mouthful of wine covered the bitter taste of the lie.

He talked endlessly about his family and how much he’d missed the traditions when he’d lived in LA. To a large degree he felt the loving traditions of his family had helped him move past the tragedy. Amber hung on his every word—hard as she tried not to.

When he tossed his napkin aside, she realized he had stopped talking and was staring at her.

“Now I’m really worried.”

She reached for her glass, but it was empty. She blinked and cleared her throat. “Worrying won’t find the bad guy.” She laughed. “We can do nothing but wait it out.” The truth in her words made her shudder. There really was nothing she could do. For the first time in her adult life she felt helpless.

He reached out and entwined his fingers with hers. “This is hard—I know. We’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on soon. The BPD is moving quickly. Jess and Buddy are doing all they can.” He squeezed her fingers. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe.”

And then he would be gone.

Amber stood. “Thank you for a great meal. I’ll be back to help clean up.”

She hurried up the stairs to the room she’d chosen. She slammed the door shut and tried to calm her breathing. Squeezing her eyes shut, she cursed herself for jumping back into the pity pool. Her mood swings were about nothing more. She was a grown woman—an educated woman with a great career. There was no excuse for feeling sorry for herself. Yes, a bad man or men had put her life in danger, and, yes, her emotional neediness had prompted her to get all sentimental and filled with what-ifs, but this would be over eventually and she would be okay.

The least she could do was act like a grown-up about it instead of falling apart just because the man who had kissed her like she’d never been kissed before wasn’t the knight in shining armor with whom she was destined to ride off into the sunset.

And then she laughed. When the laughter started, she couldn’t stop it. Two women were dead, and she was upset because her bodyguard wasn’t as enamored with her as she was with him.

A knock at the door had her wiping the tears from her eyes.

“You okay in there?”

Was she okay?
Absolutely not.
Would she be okay?
Probably.

Squaring her shoulders and wiping her cheeks, she crossed to the door and opened it. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He searched her face with those incredible blue eyes, and she realized that he really was worried about her state of mind.

Amber laughed. Startled at her reaction, she pressed her fingers to her lips and muttered, “Sorry. I think I’m hysterical.”

Concern lined his face. “Maybe I should get you another glass of wine.”

Barely suppressing a second outburst of side-splitting laughter, she held up her hands stop-sign fashion. “No, no. Really, I’m fine. I just...I just...” She burst into tears. “Oh, God. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Could she do any more to embarrass herself? She simply could not get it together.

Sean pulled her into his strong arms and hugged her close. “Everything’s going to be all right,” he promised softly. “I’ll keep you safe.”

She drew away and shook her head. “I know the police will find Thrasher and whoever else is involved, and this will all be over eventually. That’s not the reason I’m upset.”

He squeezed her arm and smiled. “You’re scared.”

A burst of anger flared inside her, instantly drying the ridiculous tears. “I am not scared.” She wasn’t. She really wasn’t. Not at the moment anyway. She had him...for protection.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I’m only trying to help.”

Calm down, Amber. It isn’t his fault you’re having trouble holding it together.

She smoothed a hand over her blouse and reclaimed her composure. “I apologize. I don’t know why I fell apart there for a moment. I’m fine—I assure you. I should probably call it a night a little early.”

Under no circumstances did she trust herself alone in the same room with him just now. She was on some sort of emotional roller coaster, and she had no idea where the tracks ran out. Ending up in bed with him was not where she wanted to crash-land tonight.

His face changed as if an epiphany had occurred to him. “Is this about that kiss last night?”

Her jaw dropped. The very idea that he would call it
that kiss
made her inexplicably angry. “What about the kiss? It happened in a moment of...a moment of neediness. It wasn’t a big deal.”

He frowned. “Ouch. I thought it was a huge deal.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “I really hoped we might go for an encore.” His gaze slid up to hers. “If you’re as interested as it felt like you were.”

A multitude of new sensations cascaded over her, shaking her newly regained composure. “I told you I don’t do one-night stands.” Even as she said the words she couldn’t stop looking at his lips.

Before she could dodge the move, he had closed the short distance between them and forked his fingers into her hair. “Good, because I have no interest in a one-night stand with you.” He pulled her mouth to his but hesitated before kissing her. “I want a whole lot more, starting with this.”

He kissed her, his lips applying just the right amount of pressure. No matter that her mind was set to protest, her body melted against his. Her hands slid up his sculpted chest and curled around his neck. He cupped her bottom and lifted her into him, showing her the intensity of his desire.

“Say the word,” he murmured against her lips, “and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t stop.” She kissed him hard, tangled her fingers in his hair and held his mouth firmly against hers.

He lifted her against him and carried her to the bed. They fell onto the plaid quilt together. He took his time undressing her and helping her nervous fingers undress him. It had been so long and she was so excited she couldn’t seem to make her fingers work.

When they lay skin to skin, he slowed things down even more. He kissed her gently, tracing her face with his fingertips. She did the same, loving the ridges and planes of his handsome face. The high cheekbones and square jaw, the straight nose and strong brow. The silky feel of his blond hair and the amazing blue of his eyes.

He whispered sweet words to her as he kissed his way down her throat.
You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft. Your hair drives me crazy.
He traced every inch of her with his lips and fingers, and she repeated each move with hers. By the time he moved on top of her, spreading her legs wide, she was gasping for air, her entire body pulsing with need.

They made love twice before moving to the shower and making love a third time. Afterward he dried her hair and teased her body to the point of insanity all over again. He brought her to climax again with those magic fingers and those equally skilled lips, and then he held her tight until she drifted off to sleep.

Friday, October 21, 6:30 a.m.

S
EAN
WOKE
TO
the sweet scent of Amber. He smiled and resisted the urge to wake her. He wanted to make love to her again, but he had to be sure she wanted to go there. Last night had been an emotional one for her. He didn’t want her to look back and see one minute of their time together as a mistake.

He was serious when he’d told her he wanted more than just one night together. If he was lucky, she would want the same. The idea of a serious relationship had been the furthest thought from his mind. Since Lacy, he hadn’t wanted to feel this way again. Amber Roberts had shattered his defenses and stolen his ability to resist without even trying. He was pretty sure she had been as surprised by the development as he was.

Her eyes opened, and she stared at him in surprise. Holding his breath, he hoped regret wouldn’t be the next emotion he saw in those beautiful green eyes. A smile widened across her kiss-swollen lips, and happiness was what he saw in her gaze.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

He grinned. “It’s a damned good morning.” He brushed her lips with his own. “I was thinking we’d make pancakes. You like pancakes?”

She nibbled at his lips with her teeth. “I haven’t indulged in pancakes in forever, but I’m not really ready to get out of bed yet.” One delicate hand slid along his hip until those cool fingers found his arousal. “It feels like you’re ready for something besides breakfast.”

He teased a rosy nipple with his tongue. “Always.”

They made love slowly. Her soft whimpers made him want to go faster, made him want to plunge hard and deep into her over and over, but he refused to hurry. He wanted to show her how important she was to him. How much he adored every part of her. How much he wanted to know her innermost thoughts and secrets.

His body arched with the building need as she cried out his name. He could hold back no longer. Still, he set an easy rhythm and pace, determined to make this last.

* * *

A
FTER
A
SHOWER
and a long morning walk, they were both ready for breakfast. She made the pancakes from a box of mix he found in the pantry. He brewed the coffee and rounded up the syrup.

“I don’t know what your family does for the holidays,” he ventured.

She licked her finger, making him smile. “Barb and Gina insist on hosting the family for Thanksgiving this year. We’re eating lunch at one, so Barb and Gina can have the evening meal with the Colemans.”