Don't Cry (29 page)

“Would you like something hot to drink? Herbal tea? Hot chocolate?”

He looked at her then, surveying her from head to toe. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I wasn't asleep.”

When he kept looking at her, she realized she wasn't wearing a robe and that the pajamas she wore were made of thin, wispy silk. “I should put on a robe.” She glanced down at her bare feet. “And some house slippers.”

“No need to on my account,” he told her. “You look fine just the way you are.”

“I…uh…I didn't think you'd be back tonight.”

“You invited me, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, yes, I did, but I—I—”

“You what? Wish you hadn't?”

“No, of course not. It's just that I assumed…It is after midnight.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture indicating weariness. “Yeah, it was damn inconsiderate of me to show up so late and assume I'd be welcome.”

“You are welcome.” She huffed to release the tension that had coiled tightly inside her. “Let's not argue. Take off your coat and go sit down in the living room. I'll fix us both some tea—”

“Make mine hot chocolate,” he told her as he shrugged out of his coat.

“Two hot chocolates coming up.”

She made it to the kitchen door before glancing over her shoulder. She watched J.D. as he tossed his jacket on the back of the tapestry-upholstered accent chair. And then he turned on a table lamp, removed his gun holster, and placed it on the coffee table.

Once in the kitchen, working quickly, she mixed cocoa powder and sugar and placed the mixture into two large mugs before pouring milk into a saucepan to heat on the stove.

Vanilla. Geraldine always added vanilla to the milk before pouring it over the cocoa-and-sugar mix. Tam's mother was Audrey's domestic role model.

Just as she opened the cupboard where she kept her spices and flavorings, she sensed someone come up behind her. She held her breath, knowing it was J.D. and realizing that she hadn't heard him enter the kitchen because she'd been so focused on preparing the hot cocoa, wanting it to be perfect for him.

“Need some help?” he asked, his breath warm against her neck.

She clutched the bottle of pure vanilla flavoring in her hand as she turned around to face him. When she did, her breasts brushed against his chest.

Oh God…oh God…

“I…no, thanks. I don't need—” She looked up into his black eyes and there was no doubt in her mind what he intended to do.

“You don't need what?” He lowered his head.

“I don't need any help.” Instinctively, her body swayed closer to his and she tilted her face upward, bringing her lips into contact with his.

Whether she kissed him or he kissed her, she didn't know. Lips touched. Mouths opened. Tongues explored.

Audrey grasped his shoulders for support, trapping the bottle of vanilla between her half-open palm and his body.

J.D. grabbed her butt and pressed her hard against him.

A spewing, splattering sound behind them brought Audrey out of the sensual haze. She suddenly realized two things—that she wanted to have sex with J.D. and that the milk in the saucepan had boiled over onto the stove.

“The milk,” she said as she pulled backward and away from him. She set the vanilla aside and then picked up an oven mitt, grabbed the saucepan handle, and removed the overflowing hot milk from the stove.

“It was my fault,” he said. “I'll help you clean it up.”

“No, please.” She gestured with her hands. “Go back in the living room. I'll take care of everything in here.”

He looked at her, uncertainty in his dark eyes. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I'm sure. Now, go. Please, J.D.”

She was grateful that he didn't insist on helping her. The moment he left the kitchen, she began cleaning the stovetop. And all the while she kept asking herself what the hell had happened. Had she kissed him? Had he kissed her? Did it matter? No, not really. What mattered was how quickly the kiss had gotten out of hand, going from lips touching to tongues plunging and aroused bodies straining for closer contact.

How could she go into the living room and face him? What if he expected her to invite him to stay the night? What if he thought she wanted him to make love to her? What if she had misunderstood and he really didn't want her?

Damn it, Audrey, stop analyzing this thing to death. It is what it is. You and J.D. kissed. You both got hot and bothered. That's as far as it went, as far as it's going to go.

Ten minutes later, with the stovetop cleaned and two mugs of hot cocoa in her hands, Audrey exited the kitchen and walked into the living room.
Just act as if nothing happened. Be calm and cool and friendly. But not too friendly. You can do this. Be brave.

She stopped and stared at the man lying on her sofa, his head propped up on the sofa arm and his feet dangling off the opposite arm. After placing the mugs on coasters atop the coffee table, she inspected him closely and realized that he was sound asleep.

He must be exhausted to have gone to sleep that fast.

There was no need to wake him, no reason he couldn't sleep on her sofa. After a quick trip to the hall linen closet, she returned to the living room with a pillow and a blanket. She gently lifted his head and slid the pillow underneath before she covered him with the blanket. And then without giving any thought to what she was doing, acting purely on feminine instinct, she reached down and caressed his rough cheek. When he mumbled and stirred ever so slightly, she jerked her hand away.

Don't be a fool, Audrey
.

She turned off the table lamp, reset the security alarm, and went to her room. Sometime before three o'clock, she finally dozed off, her mind filled with images of the man sleeping on her sofa.

Somer Ellis's head hurt. Maybe she should get up and take a couple of aspirin. But she was so sleepy she didn't want to move. She could wake Quint and ask him to get the aspirin for her. He wouldn't mind. He loved doing things for her. And she loved him for always being so kind and considerate.

“Quint,” she mumbled his name in her half-awake/half-asleep state.

He didn't answer. Maybe she hadn't actually called his name out loud.

Was she still asleep and dreaming?

She tried to turn over and found that she couldn't. And when she struggled to lift her arm, intending to throw it around Quint and cuddle against his back, she discovered her arm wouldn't move.

Her eyes flew open.

Darkness.

A pale light somewhere behind her was too weak to illuminate the room, but enough to show that she hadn't awakened in complete darkness. She couldn't see anything in her bedroom, but she knew where everything was. The chest, the dresser, the nightstands. But she didn't see even the shadows of any furniture.

She tried again to move her arms and suddenly realized that she could lift her elbows only an inch or so, but no higher because her wrists were tied to something. Flexing her fingers, she felt beneath them and found a hard, solid surface, which she gripped tightly.

Her wrists were bound to the arms of a wooden chair.

I'm dreaming. I'm having a nightmare.

Wake up, Somer, damn it, wake up.

All she had to do was wake up, kick off the covers, and get out of bed.

Do it now!

She tried to lift her feet and found she couldn't—her ankles were tied together.

Wake up, wake up.

She danced her toes against the hard surface beneath her feet and found it cold and slightly damp. When she took a deep breath, the smell of mustiness and rot filled her nostrils. She struggled with the ropes on her wrists and ankles and suddenly the chair she sat in began moving, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

This isn't real. You're having a nightmare. Don't be afraid. You'll wake up soon and tell Quint about it and you'll both laugh about how real nightmares can seem.

“Quint,” she said out loud. The single word echoed in the room.

Somer shivered. She was cold. Had Quint hogged the covers again and left her shivering without even a sheet to cover her?

“Quint?” she called to him repeatedly. “Quint…Quint…” Her voice grew louder. “Why won't you answer me?”

Because you're dreaming and he can't hear you. You need to wake up now, Somer.

Please, God, let me wake up!

After endless minutes of agony, trying to force herself to awaken, Somer finally admitted the horrifying truth—she was awake. This was no nightmare. She was bound to a chair in a dark room. And she was alone.

But how did I get here?

What is the last thing you remember?
she asked herself.

She had left work around nine fifteen, shortly after Belk closed. She and several of the other salesclerks had walked out together, said good night, and headed toward their parked vehicles.

When she approached her dark red Acura, she didn't pay much attention to the old Lincoln parked beside her. But as she opened her car door, she felt someone behind her. She turned instantly, preparing to fight off an attacker, but the man smiled at her in a nonthreatening way, the way a child would smile at his mother.

“I hope I didn't frighten you,” he said.

“I'm afraid you did.” She forced a smile, hoping she projected confidence and not fear.

“You don't remember me?” he asked, a hopeful expression on his handsome face.

He did look familiar. Somer racked her brain trying to remember and at the same time uneasiness gnawed at her gut. She wanted him to go away so that she could slide safely into her car. Keeping her gaze fixed on his face, she suddenly recalled where she'd seen him before tonight. At work. Earlier that week. He was the good-looking blonde who had bought the blue baby blanket. But tonight he was wearing glasses.

“Of course, you bought the blue baby shawl on Tuesday,” she said, then corrected herself, “No, on Monday.”

His smile faded slowly. “It was for Cody. His old one was in pretty bad shape. I think he likes the new one.”

“That's nice.” She sensed something horribly wrong. Hadn't he told her on Monday that it was a gift that his wife wanted to wrap personally? “I really have to go now. I'm glad Cody likes the blanket.”

Get away from him,
her survival instincts told her.
Get away from him now.

Moving as fast as possible, she turned around and got in her car. When she realized that he hadn't tried to stop her, a feeling of intense relief washed over her and she grasped the door handle. But her relief was short-lived when he reached inside the car, grabbed her shoulders, and hauled her out of the car.

Fight him!

But before she could do more than mentally prepare for battle, he yanked a rag from his pocket and shoved the smelly cloth over her nose.

No, no, no…

Somer shivered as the memory of what had happened exploded in her mind and explained why she wasn't at home in her bed sleeping alongside her husband. The handsome blond man who had purchased a blue baby blanket on Monday had come back to the mall tonight, waited outside in the parking lot until she had reached her car, and then he had kidnapped her.

In no particular order, questions zipped through her mind at lightning speed. How had he known which car was hers? Why hadn't she called out to her coworkers before they drove away? Why had he abducted her? Why had he tied her to a rocking chair? Where was she? How could she free herself? What did Quint think had happened to her when she hadn't come home? Was Quint out looking for her? Had he called the police? What was her kidnapper going to do to her?

 

“What are you doing here?” Zoe asked.

J.D. woke instantly at the sound of his daughter's voice and shot straight up, knocking the blanket off and onto the floor. For a split second he thought he was at home in his own bed, but quickly realized he was on Audrey Sherrod's sofa and that was the reason he ached all over, from neck to hips. He swung his legs off the sofa, rubbed the back of his neck, grunted, and then cleared his throat.

“I must have fallen asleep,” he said. “Audrey was fixing us some hot chocolate and I sat down for a couple of minutes and…”
Holy hell!
He glanced at the pillow lying against the sofa arm and down at the blanket on the floor.

“Why did you come back here? You'd already called and told me to spend the night.”

J.D. leaned over, propped his elbows on his thighs, and lowered his head so that he could rub his temples. “I came back to talk to Audrey.”

“Really? About me?”

“Actually, no.”

“About what? The case you're working on?”

“In a way. I needed to talk to a grown-up, someone I don't work with, someone who could listen and be objective. Audrey offered to listen if I needed to talk, and I accepted her offer.”
And that's all there was to it. Yeah, right. What about that kiss? You can't forget the kiss. And it's damn sure Audrey won't have forgotten.

“Apparently you didn't do much talking,” Zoe said.

“Huh?” J.D. couldn't bring himself to look at his daughter. Did she suspect that he had kissed Audrey?

“Well, if you fell asleep, you couldn't have talked much.”

“Yeah, right. No, we didn't talk much.”

Zoe glanced back at the hallway leading to the two bedrooms. “Is she still asleep?”

J.D. nodded. “As far as I know.”

What time was it? He twisted his wristwatch around so he could see the face. 8:48 A.M.

“Maybe you and I should gather up our stuff and head home, let Audrey sleep in,” J.D. suggested.

“Aren't you going to work today?”

“Yeah, I am.” He stood up and stretched, then glanced at his daughter and saw the disappointed expression on her face. “Hey, we can stop by McDonald's for a Big Breakfast on the way home. How does that sound?”

“Okay, I guess,” Zoe said. “But I was looking forward to one of Audrey's cheese and sausage omelets.”

J.D.'s stomach growled. Zoe laughed. He grinned.

“Good morning,” Audrey said.

J.D. and Zoe whirled around at the sound of her voice.

“Morning,” Zoe replied. “Looks like we all slept late.”

J.D. swallowed hard as he stared at Audrey, who stood in the arched entrance to the living room. She looked as fresh as a daisy in her long-sleeved white cotton shirt and slim-fitting dark jeans. She had pulled her hair away from her face, secured it on each side with small gold barrettes, and left the length hanging loosely against her shoulders.

Audrey looked right at him, her expression blank, giving away nothing of what she might or might not be thinking and feeling.

“Ah…uh, Zoe and I were planning to leave and let you sleep in,” he told her.

“J.D.'s going to take me to McD's for breakfast,” Zoe said. “Before he takes me home and goes back to work.”

“Why don't you both stay here for breakfast?” Audrey glanced from Zoe to J.D. “Unless you're in a big hurry to leave.”

What did she mean by that?

Did she think he was running away before she could confront him about the kiss they'd shared?

“I think we've imposed on your hospitality long enough as it is.” J.D.'s gaze remained fixed on Audrey's face.

“It's no imposition. I invited you.”

A flicker of emotion shot through Audrey's expressionless green-and gold-flecked brown eyes. Exactly what was she saying? Was she telling him that she had not only invited him to come over last night if he needed someone to talk to, but that she had also invited him to kiss her?

“Come on, J.D. Let's stay for breakfast, please.”

How could he resist the hopeful look on his daughter's face?

 

An hour later, Zoe scooted back her chair from the kitchen table, jumped to her feet, picked up her plate, silverware, and glass, and placed them in the dishwasher. “I'm going to get dressed,” she said as she exited the room.

J.D. and Audrey sat in silence for a couple of minutes, then she asked, “More coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

“Another scone?” She held up the basket filled with savory butter-and-chive scones.

He rubbed his stomach. “I couldn't eat another bite.” He smiled. “I see why Zoe preferred breakfast here to eating fast food, even though the McD's Big Breakfast is a favorite of hers.”

“Since you're going to work today, you could let Zoe stay here. I can run her home to pick up a change of clothes and—”

“No, you don't have to do that. I'm going home to shower, shave, and change clothes anyway. And I certainly don't expect you to baby-sit Zoe again. She's old enough to spend the day at home without me. I'm sure you've got better things to do with your day than—”

“Stop right there,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “I don't baby-sit Zoe. And I know she's old enough to be left alone during the day. I happen to enjoy your daughter's company. I thought you understood that she and I have become friends.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply—”

“If you spent a little more time with her, took the trouble to get to know her better, you might realize—”

“It always comes back to this, doesn't it?” He slid his chair from the table and stood. “Every time we have a conversation, you find a way to remind me what a lousy father I am and take it upon yourself to advise me about my lack of parenting skills. It's becoming a case of beating a dead horse, don't you think?”

He stood over her, glaring at her as she rose slowly to her feet and faced him. She looked at him without saying a word, as if his retaliation had rendered her speechless.

“I don't want us to argue every time we're together,” he told her. “But that's all we seem to do. Except for a few minutes last night.”

They both knew he was referring to the kiss.

“I don't know why that happened or how it happened,” she said. “It was a mistake…wasn't it?”

“Was it?”

Zoe called out from the living room, “J.D., your phone's ringing.”

He released a pent-up breath. “Grab it for me, will you?”

Audrey stepped back and began clearing the table and loading the dishwasher. J.D. met Zoe as she entered the kitchen and handed him his cell phone. Not bothering to check the caller ID, he answered on what was probably the fifth or sixth ring.

“Special Agent Cass.”

“J.D., it's Tam Lovelady.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I received a call from headquarters an hour or so ago,” Tam said. “They contacted me about a woman whose husband reported her missing. She didn't come home after work last night.”

“What's special about her?”

“She's in her early twenties and attractive. She has long, dark hair and brown eyes. Sound familiar?”

“How long has she been missing?”

“Her husband called in this morning around one o'clock. It seems when she didn't come home from work last night, he contacted every friend he knew of, called her parents, and drove the route she usually takes coming home from work. That's when he found her car, a late-model Acura, the driver's side door open, parked at Hamilton Place Mall, where she works.”

“What time did she get off from work?”

“At nine.”

“That time of night, there should have been a lot of people around the area. Maybe somebody saw something.”

“I agree. I've contacted the Belk manager and he's calling the other employees who worked last night and is asking them to come in this morning and speak to us. Garth and I are heading that way now. I—we thought you might want to join us.”