The Hero’s Sin (11 page)

“Happy enough,” he said, but there was a certain weariness in his voice.

“Johnny says most Peace Corps volunteers only serve two years but you’ve already given six.” She cut her eyes at him, watching him carefully. “He says you got offered an assignment in Ghana, but he’s not sure you should take it. He thinks you’re burned out.”

“Johnny talks too much.”

“
Are
you burned out?” she prompted.

“It wouldn’t matter if I was. It’s what I do.” He stared down at his hands for long seconds before he lifted his
head and looked at her. “I need to balance the bad things I’ve done in my life with something good.”

“The bad things?”

“Chrissy.” He sucked in a breath, and she could tell he was wrestling with strong emotions. “I’m finding out that no matter how much good I do, I can never make up for what happened to her.”

Ah, now she understood. “No wonder Johnny asked for help in convincing you to leave the Peace Corps.”

“Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“Of course not. Yet he has this wild idea I can get you to move back to Indigo Springs. He doesn’t understand I’m the last person who can convince you of anything.”

He blinked, seeming surprised by her statement. “Nobody can get me to move back here, but you could convince me of a great many other things.”

“Then I wish I could convince you to see yourself like I see you,” she said.

“And how’s that?” he asked.

She’d promised not to let herself be vulnerable to him again, but the answer was too important. “I see a man who cares about the world around him. A man who should forgive himself for the mistakes he made when he was a teenager.”

His expression softened, something that resembled awe entering his eyes. He reached up and touched her cheek before his fingers glided softly over her lips.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her lips moving against his fingertips.

Laughter rang out down the block. Two young
couples, probably tourists soaking in the atmosphere and the architecture, came into view.

“Before I saw those people coming,” he said, surprise in his voice, “I’m pretty sure I was going to kiss you.”

“What makes you think I’d let you? I thought we got it straight this afternoon that the offer’s off the table.” She tried to make her voice stern but failed miserably. “Once spurned, twice shy.”

“You think I spurned you?” He captured one of her hands in his. “I’ve never wanted any woman the way I want you.”

“You have a strange way of showing it.”

“It’s not that simple, Sara. I’ve already told you. I can’t let you pay for what I’ve done.”

“So random people in town, like Quincy Coleman, get to decide what’s best for us?” she challenged. “We don’t get any say?”

He frowned. “It sounds wrong when you put it that way.”

“It is wrong. This isn’t about anybody else. It’s about you and me and what we want.” She almost groaned. She’d decided to keep things between them strictly business. What was the matter with her that she couldn’t stick to her resolution? “Forget I said that. There is no you and me.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, still holding her hand, effortlessly reestablishing the charged connection between them with the softness of his question. “Because what I want is you.”

She searched his eyes, saw her own desire reflected in them and let go of her wounded pride. Michael wasn’t like the other men who’d come and gone in her
life, having such a shallow impression of her that she could barely remember some of their names. Something about him touched her so deeply she couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t what she wanted.

That
he
wasn’t what she wanted.

“Sara?” he prompted, sounding unsure of himself, as though afraid she’d decided against him.

That hint of uncertainty put her all the way over the edge.

“I want you, too,” she whispered.

M
ICHAEL FELT
as though the weight that had been pressing down on him had lifted. So many people in his life had been ready to believe the worst of him it seemed a miracle that Sara only believed the best.

He’d tried to stay away from her because he feared she might suffer repercussions, but so far his fears had proved groundless. Because of her faith, he wanted to believe that she was right, that they were the only two people in their relationship who mattered.

So he did.

They were inside the office he’d painted, with the red accent wall and other unexpected splashes of color which infused it with a sense of style. She was almost to the foot of the stairs when she glanced back at him. He braced himself, half expecting her to say she’d changed her mind, but she smiled at him. The smile was full not of doubt but invitation.

“You should have waited until we were upstairs to look at me like that,” he said.

She turned the entire way around, her grin even wider, even more enticing. “Why’s that?”

“Because now we won’t make it there.” He pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her, his mouth coming down on hers. He felt the urgency well up inside him, as though it had been buried beneath the surface and finally set free.

Everything about her excited him. The smell of the citrusy soap on her skin and the hint of flowers in her hair. The vague taste of the wine she’d had at dinner on her tongue. The sexy little moans she made deep in her throat. And the smooth, lithe feel of her skin.

Blood roared in his ears, drowning out sound, but he could feel his heart beating hard. Or was that her heart pounding against his chest?

He put a hand at the small of her back, molding her lower body to his, soundlessly communicating how much he wanted her. He backed her up against the wall nearest the stairs, kissing her mouth, then her breast through the thin fabric of her purple top. He unhooked her bra, and she lifted her arms, enabling him to slip off her shirt so she was naked from the waist up.

He’d told the unembroidered truth about never wanting any woman the way he did her. He couldn’t remember this desperate need to join with a woman, this absolute sense of rightness when she was in his arms.

He kissed a trail down her neck and over her breastbone before reaching one of her small, perfect breasts. His mouth fastened on a nipple. He sucked and heard another of those sexy moans, this one louder than the others.

He brought his mouth back to hers, his tongue mating with her tongue. When she reached between
them and stroked his hard length through his khakis, he nearly lost control. He reached under her skirt, cupping her rear end, bringing her more fully against him.

“A condom. In my purse,” she said, her sentences fragmented. “Put…it on.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied her purse on the floor, the contents spilled over the gleaming hardwood.

He lifted his head. He was breathing hard, his chest moving up and down in ragged gasps. Now that they’d reached the pivotal moment, he wanted her desperately, even more than he wanted to leave Indigo Springs, but there was a question he needed to ask. “Are
you
sure?”

“I swear, Michael.” Her voice was steadier now but just as breathless as his. “If you stop now, I’ll have to hurt you.”

He smiled, further turned on by her eagerness. “I’m not sure I could stop.”

“Then don’t,” she said.

Somehow, between kisses, her panties disappeared and he sheathed himself. Then she was guiding him inside her, gasping as he filled her. She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, her back plastered against the wall.

It vaguely occurred to Michael that they might not have picked the easiest position for lovemaking, but then she moved with him and sensation inundated him. It was the same as when they’d kissed, as though they’d made love a hundred times instead of this once.

He felt the first spasms start to shake her and tried to make it last for her, but then her inner muscles contracted around him, and he came, too, the world shattering around him yet somehow making him feel whole.

They held each other after it was over, their skin damp, their breathing slowly returning to normal. He leaned his forehead against hers, content to remain as close as two people could be.

“Wow,” she said on a sigh.

Happiness filled him, more acute since it had been so long since he’d felt it in the purest form. He kissed her lingeringly on the mouth. “I knew it would be like this between us.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“But I have to be straight with you.” He drew back, not wanting to break the mood but knowing he had to. “All I can offer you is a short-term affair. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Michael. I know this can’t last.” Sara took a breath before she continued. “I wouldn’t have invited you upstairs if I couldn’t handle that.”

“You still want me upstairs?”

“I still want you.” She deliberately glanced at the articles of her clothing that were still on the floor. “It doesn’t seem to matter if it’s upstairs or downstairs.”

He laughed, then moved away from her and helped her pick up her clothes. They ascended the stairs together, Michael holding Sara’s hand securely, already wishing the time wasn’t soon approaching when he’d have to let her go.

A
RAY OF SUNLIGHT
peeked through an opening in the mini-blinds of Sara’s bedroom window and bathed her face in light, pulling her out of a satisfied sleep.

Her body still languid from last night’s lovemaking, she stretched her arms overhead, smiled and opened her eyes. Her smile disappeared.

The other side of the bed was empty.

“Michael,” she called, thinking he might be in the bathroom.

Silence.

He was gone.

She smoothed a hand over the rumpled sheets, finding them cool to the touch; he’d been gone for a while.

She smothered her disappointment. It was better this way. She’d delayed the official opening of her practice until later in the week but Laurie would be arriving soon, as well as the delivery men with some office furniture she’d ordered. Now that the walls were painted, she and Laurie planned to put the finishing touches on the office.

Sara didn’t have time to linger in bed with a man who hadn’t even bothered to leave a note, no matter how sexy he was and how much she wanted him.

The phone on her bedside table rang. She leaned over and picked it up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Good morning.” Michael’s voice glided over her, the way his hands had the night before. She instantly forgave him for that note he hadn’t left. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

He’d left Indigo Springs.

If she’d been hooked up to a heart monitor, the machine would show a flat line. She could barely think, let alone talk. Just last night he’d told her he was only in town for the short term and reiterated he could never make Indigo Springs his home.

How could she protest when she’d assured him she could handle a fling?

But there was another reason he shouldn’t have left town, one not involving her.

“How am I going to explain this to Chief Jackson?” she finally choked out.

“Chief Jackson?” He sounded puzzled. “Even if he saw me leaving your place, it’s none of his business.”

Now that she was over the shock of hearing him say goodbye, her mind started to work again. Cell-phone reception in the mountains was spotty, and their connection was clear, as though he was speaking from a landline.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“My aunt’s house.” A pause. “Where did you think I was?’

She closed her eyes. He’d been apologizing for leaving her
bed,
not for leaving
town.
Her heartbeat slowed down, and her airways opened up, the strangling sensation easing.

“Never mind.” She cleared her throat and said what a woman who could handle a fling would say. “There’s no need to apologize. No strings, remember?”

There couldn’t be any ties. One day soon both his aunt’s problems and the mystery of Quincy Coleman’s disappearance would be solved, and Michael would be gone for good.

She’d known that going in. Now she had to get herself to accept it.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked.

For the first time, Sara looked at the bedside clock. She’d overslept. Laurie was due to arrive in forty-five minutes.

“Getting ready for business,” she said. “How about you?”

“I ran into Johnny when I stopped for coffee. He’s gonna help search for Coleman so I thought I would, too.”

“No!” Sara sat straight up in bed, pushing her hair out of her face, desperate to convince him to listen to her. “You can’t help, Michael. Think what the chief would make of it if you found a body.”

“But what if Coleman isn’t dead? What if he did have a hiking accident? He could be out there hurt somewhere.”

“If somebody killed him and you find him, the chief will say you knew where to look.”

“I won’t be alone, Sara. I’ll be with Johnny.”

“That won’t matter to the chief,” she argued.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He sounded as though her very real, bluntly stated concerned hadn’t swayed him in the slightest.

“But why? Explain the logic in this to me.”

“I spent a lot of time in the woods when I lived with my aunt. I know some spots others might not check.”

She heard the determination in his voice and couldn’t help admiring him for listening to his conscience, even if his sense of right and wrong was steering him down a potentially disastrous path.

“I’m still strongly advising against it,” she said.

“That’s the second reason I’m glad I’m not officially your client.”

“What’s the first?”

“Lawyers don’t make love with their clients.” His voice lowered a full octave, sending shivers over her skin. “If I were your client, I would have missed the best sex of my life.”

She felt herself smile. “Are you trying to distract me, Michael Donahue?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said. “I’ve been distracted all morning thinking about what we did last night and wondering how soon we can do it again.”

A languorous warmth spread through her body, and she could almost feel his hands on her, the hard length of him completing her. “You’re not playing fair. I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.”

His voice got even lower. “I wish I was still in bed with you.”

She whimpered. “If you’re trying to seduce me, you’re doing a good job of it.”

“I’ll do even better tonight,” he said. “I’ll bring takeout so you can build up your strength before we start.”

She was smiling when she disconnected the phone
call until it occurred to her that Michael’s distraction had worked to perfection.

She’d forgotten all about talking him out of searching for Quincy Coleman.

L
AURIE FINISHED
setting up the fax machine and tackled the box of files Sara had set on her desk.

The delivery men had arrived promptly at nine o’clock, bringing the boxy loveseats and chairs Sara had chosen for the reception area. They were a burnt-orange color with bright-red touches that picked up the shade of the accent wall and the boss’s personality.

For the balance of the morning, she and Sara had worked diligently to bring character to the office with decorations they lugged from upstairs.

Colorful carpet runners. Plaques. Avant-garde prints. Law-office chic, Laurie called it.

They’d kept so busy Laurie had managed not to blurt out she’d slept with Kenny on Saturday. The fact that lovemaking with her ex wasn’t an appropriate workplace topic didn’t stop her. Her confusion did. What would she say if Sara asked how she felt about what she’d done?

Terrible?

Wonderful?

Stupid?

The truth was probably all of the above. Laurie would have felt even more dim-witted if she’d spent the night with Kenny instead of leaving as soon as the power came back on.

She needed time to think, which was the extent of what she’d told him.

Not about whether she was still in love with him, which had never been in question, but about whether he could ever be more in love with her than with the memory of Chrissy Coleman.

“Hello. Anybody here?”

Laurie stood up from where she’d been crouching beside the file cabinet. A fresh-faced teenage girl, her blond hair tied back from her face, stood on one of the new carpet runners holding a white paper bag.

“Delivery from Angelo’s,” she announced and checked the slip attached to the bag. “One vegetarian calzone and one meatball sub.”

“Sounds delicious.” Sara appeared from the back room, waving off Laurie’s attempt to extract her wallet from her purse. She handed some bills to the young girl. “I had dinner at Angelo’s just last night.”

“I remember seeing you on the patio with that hot guy,” the girl said, piquing Laurie’s curiosity. What hot guy? “Mandy was your waitress, right?”

“Right,” Sara said.

“She’s supposed to be working the lunch shift today, but she called in sick.” The girl looked around, as though somebody might overhear her gossiping. “She had a miscarriage last night.”

“Oh, no,” Laurie said, her hands going to either side of her face. She remembered only too well the frightening cramps that had preceded her own miscarriage, the devastation when she lost the baby. It had signaled the beginning of the end of her marriage. “How is she?”

“She’s tough,” the girl said, “so I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

“How are you?” Sara asked the instant the delivery
girl was gone, her eyes soft with compassion, making Laurie glad she’d confided in her boss about the past.

“Okay. All the pain came rushing back for a moment, but my miscarriage was a long time ago.” Laurie sighed, unwilling to examine her feelings in depth or to admit she still yearned for a baby. She wasn’t ready to figure out if her longing was for Kenny’s baby. “Come on, let’s talk about something else. Like your hot guy. Let me take a guess. Mike Donahue?”

“It’s not what you think.” Sara’s face flushed, telling Laurie it was exactly what she thought. “We only went to dinner so he could show his face in town and prove he had nothing to hide.”

Laurie carried her meatball sub to the reception area, sat down in one of the orange chairs and popped the top of her diet soda while Sara did the same.

“What would he have to hide?” Laurie asked.

Sara paused in the act of bringing her calzone to her mouth. “You haven’t heard about Quincy Coleman?”

“What about Quincy Coleman?” Laurie said.

Sara put her lunch back on the wrapper. “He’s been missing since Sunday morning. It’s possible he had a hiking accident but the police don’t think so. His kitchen was a mess. Smashed bottles and plates. Overturned chairs. A streak of blood.”

“How did I miss this?” Laurie figured out the reason on her own: She’d been distracted with thoughts of Kenny. “Do the police have any suspects?”

“Only one—Michael. They say he was tired of Coleman constantly demeaning him.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Laurie exclaimed. “The Mike I
knew in high-school wasn’t vindictive. I can’t believe he’s changed that much.”

“He hasn’t,” Sara said. “He’s completely innocent.”

“Then why do the police think he’s guilty?”

Sara wrapped her hand around her soda can but didn’t pick it up. “I take it you haven’t talked to Kenny this weekend.”

Laurie’s breath caught and she had to will herself to exhale. “What does Kenny have to do with it?”

“Quite a lot. He claims he overheard Michael threaten to kill Coleman.”

“When was this?”

“Saturday afternoon.”

Yet on Saturday night Kenny hadn’t mentioned Mike Donahue to Laurie, not that they’d done much talking.

“Some other people also heard the argument,” Sara continued. “Kenny’s the only one who reported the threat.”

“You don’t believe Kenny, do you?” Laurie asked.

“Michael said it didn’t happen. So no, I don’t.”

The scent of meatballs reached Laurie’s nostrils, and her stomach turned over, her appetite gone. Even without all the details, she believed Michael over Kenny, too.

“Are you okay?” Sara placed her hand over Laurie’s, her expression concerned. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t apologize,” Laurie said. “You just knocked some sense into me.”

M
ICHAEL LAY
on the soft mattress of the queen-size bed with his eyes wide open, but it was so dark in Sara’s bedroom he could barely make out the shape of the ceiling fan.

He should be weary from a long day spent traipsing through the woods, futilely searching for any sign of Quincy Coleman. But now that Sara was asleep, the mystery turned over and over in his mind.

He hadn’t thought about much except Sara when she was awake. He’d arrived earlier that evening bearing takeout deli sandwiches and a rented DVD, but they hadn’t gotten around to watching the movie.

They’d entertained each other much more enjoyably in bed.

They hadn’t talked much about Quincy Coleman, either, which could be why thoughts of the man buzzed in his brain. The longer Michael stayed awake, the less likely it seemed that Coleman had been the victim of foul play.

The man had been well on his way to getting falling-down drunk Saturday afternoon. The empty beer cans in the garage, the bloodshot eyes and the slurred speech left that in no dispute.

The whiskey bottles in Coleman’s kitchen strongly suggested he’d kept on drinking after Michael had left. Yes, there’d been blood on the wall but not much. Coleman could have cut himself on a broken piece of glass after anger got the best of him.

It made more sense that he had gone into the woods to blow off steam than that someone had killed him and taken away the body. When the heavy rains came, it was easy to imagine Coleman getting hit by a fallen tree branch or tripping and injuring himself.

The problem with Michael’s theory was that the police had considered it, too. Search teams had scoured
the area Coleman could have reached on foot and found nothing.

On foot
.

The two words jumped out at Michael, bringing him even more fully awake. Coleman’s Cadillac was still parked in his garage, but it didn’t necessarily follow that Coleman had been on foot.

Not when Michael clearly remembered his surprise at seeing a second vehicle in that garage: An off-road motorcycle.

He sat up and swung his legs off the bed, groping in the darkness for his clothes on the floor. If Coleman was on the motorbike, the search teams hadn’t covered a wide enough area. He pulled on his jeans and shirt, dressing as quickly as he could manage.

“Michael?” Sara’s sleepy voice penetrated the quiet darkness. The glowing red numbers on her bedside alarm clock showed it was well past midnight. “Where are you going?”

She’d probably try to talk him into waiting until morning if he confessed his destination was Coleman’s garage.

“I’m leaving now,” he whispered, “but I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re coming over to give Aunt Felicia an update, right?”

“I don’t have anything to tell her yet. I need to contact more lenders.” Her voice was heavy with sleep, her sentences barely comprehensible. She seemed completely vulnerable, totally trusting. Of him.

Tenderness rose up inside him. He walked to the opposite side of the bed, sat down on the edge of the mattress and kissed her.