Between Darkness and Daylight (14 page)

"Does it hurt?"

"Itches more than anything."

"I'll go get something to clean and change it." He stood before she could protest, disappearing down the long hallway, leaving Nova alone with time to catch her breath and think about what she was doing.

What excuse could she give to leave without being rude? How could she get out of the dinner he already had simmering on the stove?

She stood again, feeling vulnerable sitting down in Zane's home, surrounded by reminders of his life with another woman. Illogical jealousy churned in her gut at thoughts of the dead wife with whom she shared so much more than Zane would ever know.

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The pressure of not being able to tell him why she was in his life was beginning to wear on her. She'd thought she could handle this, had told herself that she could keep her secret as long as she needed to. But her silence felt too much like lying and she'd never been good at keeping things from people she cared about.

Over the years, her frankness had gotten her into more trouble than not. Her father's honesty-is-the-best-policy credo was wonderful in theory, but not always a welcome concept when delivered by the exotic, smart new girl in the class. She'd had enough trouble making friends without the added weight of seeming an uppity, know-it-all newbie, falling just a rung above the teacher's pets and the nerds at the schools she attended.

Nova strolled back across the room to admire the large framed oil painting hanging on a wall between two closed doors. The painting depicted a man sitting on the beach, knees drawn up towards his bare torso, palms flat on the sand behind him as he leaned back and gazed out at the sunrise. Golden-orange hues reflected off of the foamy water, leaving the back of the man in subtle shades of tan and khaki.

The scene was so evocative, Nova could almost feel the ocean spray and the sun's heat against her skin, could almost see the subject's chest rise and fall as he inhaled the salt air.

The man was even more detailed, so much so that Nova knew it was Zane without being able to see his face in full. She'd recognize that strong chiseled-jawed profile, muscular back, and broad shoulders anywhere.

She moved closer and reached out to touch the painting, drawn by the lifelike sheen of Zane's raven hair beneath the ascending sun. Her fingers quivered with a memory of how soft the waves felt in her hands and her nostrils flared with olfactory longing.

The painting had been done with love; Nova could feel the emotion oozing from every color and brush stroke before she laid a hand on the canvass.

She closed her eyes when she made contact, momentarily breathless, as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

She watched the couple running across the sand as the early morning sun illuminated Coney Island's Wonder Wheel and Cyclone in the distance.

96

Gracie C. McKeever

Sinny carried an insulated picnic bag and an army blanket in one hand, her flip-flops in another as she giggled and romped ahead of Zane.

He trailed behind her carrying his sandals in one hand and canvas easel, and paints in the other. Clad in khaki cargo shorts and a cream Polo shirt, his outfit was as casual as Sinny’s

“Where do you want me to set this stuff up?”

Nova gasped at the clarity of Zane’s voice in her ears, as if she were in the scene with him and not just observing.

When she answered, “Over here, baby,” she knew that she
was
in the scene, had taken Sinnead’s place.

Zane trudged to where she stood waiting near a dry outcropping of smooth rocks and she showed him where she wanted him to spread the large blanket.

Once he got the painting implements and the picnic basket situated on the blanket, she plopped down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him down to sit on the blanket beside her. Zane chuckled as he fell against her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed then caressed her arm, making gooseflesh pop up at his sensual touch.

“See, isn’t this view perfect?”

“Mmm...” He nuzzled her neck, leaving a trail of moist, lazy kisses from her throat to her cleavage. “This view is even better.” He slid a hand inside her tank-top to cup a generous breast.

Nova trembled at the feel of his fingers against her flesh, arched her back as his thumb rasped across a bare nipple before he lightly pinched it between thumb and forefinger. She trembled, just barely able to say, “I can’t wait to capture you against this backdrop with the sun going down behind you.”

“We’ve got hours and hours before you immortalize me on canvas. In the meantime…”

“You have such a one track mind.”

“Look who’s talking Ms. Perfect Backdrop For Painting.”

“Is it wrong that I want to get such a beautiful form down for posterity?” She cupped his cheek, nerves tingling at the feel of silken whiskers against her palm.

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How was it possible that such a simple touch could send her heart into overdrive and juices flowing from her pussy like the ocean waves rolling onto shore nearby?

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Zane guided her back against the blanket and straddled her hips as he braced his palms on either side of her face.

She glanced up at him and smiled. “Aren’t you glad we got here so early?”

“Extremely.” He bent his head for a kiss, teasing her for several moments, just running his tongue across the seam of her mouth before dipping it in. He mimicked the sex act with quick shallow thrusts that made Nova’s vaginal muscles spasm and more hot moisture seep into her panties. “Your picnic lunch will hit the spot after,” he whispered, nibbling her lower lip.

She pitched her hips into him, nodding her agreement, quietly sliding her hands up to rake through his hair. She pulled him down for a deeper kiss, tangled her tongue with his as Zane rubbed his erection against her throbbing slit.

Nova closed her eyes when he reached to undo her Capris and snaked a hand into her panties, slow and purposeful. She writhed with the thought of impending consummation, finally feeling him inside her, finally having him cover her body with his—the protector and the protected merged.

She didn’t care that it was Sinny’s body he touched, that it was Sinny’s body he aroused, because it was her soul he stirred. She felt every nip and lick against her throat, smelled every scent of salty ocean breeze mixed with Zane’s spicy musk, an erotic heady cocktail that had her squirming and whimpering beneath him in expectation.

“I’m so glad you talked me into this,” he murmured.

“This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I ‘dragged’ you out here.”

“I know, but I’m still glad I came…and that I’m about to come again.”

Nova chuckled, then suddenly grew mute as he lazily slid a finger into her cunt. Desire pooled like liquid fire between her legs. “Oh, yes…” This was better than any dream of Zane she’d experienced, more real than any reality she’d lived with Matt.

98

Gracie C. McKeever

How could that be?

He joined his forefinger with another finger, stroking deep before scissoring the digits and flicking her swollen clit with his thumb.

Nova bucked her hips, desperate to feel him inside her now, craving his reality more than she’d craved anything in her life—craving him as much as she needed and wanted to keep him safe.

He pumped his fingers inside her, building to a fierce rhythm as he undid his own cargo shorts and took his hard cock in his free hand.

“Zane!” Nova shuddered with her climax, wrapped both arms around him and held tight, panting as he removed his fingers and quickly replaced them with his hot shaft. He circled his hips, then plunged into her wet depths as she moaned with the rapture of it, gasping at the idea of coming again so soon after her last orgasm. “I’ve waited so long to feel you like this, Zane.”

He raised his head to frown down at her, like there was a question on the tip of his tongue, right before she squeezed her pussy muscles around him to obliterate all conscious thought and confusion from his mind and replace them with the ecstasy of their bodies becoming one.

* * * *

Nova shivered, inhaling deeply as Zane's spicy scent infiltrated her senses. She felt his hand on her shoulder as he sidled behind her.

She couldn't immediately separate the memory of Zane and Sinny on the beach from present reality, unsure if she felt his touch because he was touching Sinny's shoulder on the beach or because he was actually standing behind her in the loft. She didn't want to open her eyes and find out, liking the feel of his hand on her shoulder too much to risk loss of contact by moving away or shifting position.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She exhaled at the sound of his husky voice so close to her ear and turned to him. He had hydrogen peroxide in one hand and sterile gauze in the other.

Zane took her hand and led her to the sectional and unwrapped her bandage. He silently swabbed the cut with a peroxide-soaked cotton ball,
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his brow crinkled as if in deep concentration, then gently rewrapped the wound with a fresh dressing.

Nova imperceptibly shifted in her seat, trying to calm down her throbbing vagina. Between fantasy Zane on the beach and real Zane in the living room tending her wound, she was having a hard time keeping her hormones in check.

She finally cleared her throat, needed to say something to break the tension or she’d explode. "You didn't have to go to all that trouble."

"No trouble." He peered at her. "I never did tell you thanks for saving my life."

"Puh-lease, what saving? You're lucky you didn't break anything when I pushed you."

"I'm lucky you were there."

She wondered, tormented by the eternal chicken-or-egg conundrum.

Would Zane have been attacked had she not been with him? Would he have been safer, had he not gone out to lunch with her?
Had
she saved his life or had she put it in jeopardy? The paradoxes were incomprehensible, the possibilities too unpleasant for her to consider.

Nova jerked a thumb at the portrait. "I love the painting. Your wife's?"

He looked at it, nodding. "Its value skyrocketed after she died."

"I can imagine."

"Of course I'll never sell it."

"Of course not." Nova lurched to her feet, needing distance despite her desires. His aura surrounded her in layers of different vibrations, of energy and light—blue, pulsing and warm—even as he remained seated. "What were you and the detective discussing at the precinct earlier?"

"He was getting my statement, the same as he got yours and Ran's."

"It seemed like a little more going on in there than that."

"What conspiracy theories are going through that beautiful head of yours?" He got up and came to her, taking both of her hands in his and stroking the palms with his thumbs. "We were discussing my wife's murder, going over theories and suspects."

It took everything in her to concentrate on what he was saying and not react to the way his thumbs made her pussy quiver and become moist. Just a simple touch of thumbs to palms had her ready to strip and let him take her. God, what would she do if he kissed her? What would he do if he 100

Gracie C. McKeever

knew that they had already made love several times over in her mind and she wanted to make it a reality here and now?

Nova cleared her throat to ask, "You think Manuela's mother had something to do with your wife's death?"

"Not me, but Leary just wanted to cover all his bases."

"Your wife was stabbed…" Nova bit her lip. She’d almost slipped and said "with a hunting knife." There was no way she should have known that detail unless he'd told her, and he hadn't. He'd barely mentioned that his wife was dead. All that pertinent information had come from psychic visions and her own powers of deduction.

Zane nodded, seemingly unaware of her blunder. "On our fifth wedding anniversary. Normally, she didn't make a big deal about it, but this one time she…she wanted to prepare something special, was in the middle of making an authentic Mexican dish when she realized she didn't have all the ingredients, ran out to pick up the sauce." He swallowed, grief and guilt emanating from him in such palpable waves Nova sampled their bitter aftertaste in her throat. "I found the note on the fridge when I got home from a client's. Had to be about ten o'clock. The phone started ringing a couple of minutes after I got in the door."

She squeezed his hands. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know."

But hearing the uncertainty in his tone, she didn't think he did. "How'd things turn out for your client?"

He grinned, the slight upward tilt of his full lips lighting up his entire face. "It went well. We accomplished a lot and I was able to get her and her kids placed in an emergency shelter. Last I heard she's…uh…"

"She's?"

"Doing well."

Nova didn't push him, respecting his circumspection. She was, after all, not a professional associate, not even an intimate, and he probably shouldn't have divulged as much as he already had. She had just gotten complacent, accustomed to Zane's trust, expecting it when she'd actually done nothing to earn it.

Except saved his life, which he readily acknowledges.

"Was it a case as serious as Manuela's?" Nova held his hands and felt him trying to remove himself again, as if he had an aversion to talking
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about his work. She couldn't understand why he was so secretive. She wanted nothing more than to revel in his accomplishments and celebrate each triumph. Lord knew she had enough practice playing the cheerleader, stroking gigantic egos. It was hard getting used to an ego that wasn't needy.

"Manuela's case wasn't as serious as it was disturbing. I thought coming to the public school system would cut back on that type of obligation and stress, on the emotional drain, but I just relocated my office. The same cases and stress followed me. SSDD."

Nova chuckled, surprised to hear the familiar acronym coming from him. "But you love it."