For All of Her Life (18 page)

Ummm. Good. The night was wonderful so far. She’d just discovered that sex with her ex-husband was as natural and life-sustaining as breathing, the stunningly beautiful and very young woman he usually slept with was due back momentarily, and Jordan was convinced that Keith had expired because of a murderer’s calculated acts. At the very least, Jordan was receiving crank phone calls.

Kathy leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee, realizing that it was around three in the morning and that more had happened in her life since midnight than usually went on in a year these days.

She discovered suddenly that Jeremy had come to stand next to her, shoulder to shoulder, against the counter. Concern etched his handsome face, but he smiled as he asked softly, “Everything okay?”

Kathy nodded. “Fine.”

“It’s a great vacation for me,” he told her. “Honest to God, Kathy, that is the wildest place I’ve ever seen. And I speak as a born and bred New Yorker!”

Jordan returned to the kitchen as Jeremy spoke intimately against her ear. Kathy met his gaze, but nothing in his cool green eyes or hard countenance gave away his thoughts.

“Who was it at this hour, Dad?” Alex asked. She was seated at the table with Angel, and the two of them had been head to head, laughing over something that had happened that night.

He started to speak. He was going to say it had been Tara, Kathy was certain, but he didn’t. This was one of those times when she did seem to know Jordan very well. Tara would have been the right lie, but Tara might come and blithely let everyone know she hadn’t called.

“One of the musicians playing with us,” Jordan said.

“At this hour?” Bren said.

“You know musicians,” her father told her.

He was lying, Kathy knew. He’d called the police—or someone—about the phone call to have them check on the number from which the call had originated. The police—or someone—had called him back.

“I suppose,” Bren agreed, blithely ignorant of any undercurrents. She yawned and stood. “I give up, guys. I can’t stay awake any longer.” She patted Angel and her sister on the head, hugged and kissed her father, her mother, and gave Jeremy a hug as well. Kathy should have been elated. Bren’s weary instinct to kiss a good friend good night certainly gave credence to Kathy’s relationship with Jeremy. Just as her own very close friendship with him made them look intimate now.

Somehow, though, she was just uncomfortable. She almost hated Jordan for it. If he hadn’t come to New York, she wouldn’t have come here. If she hadn’t come, she wouldn’t have gone to bed with him, if she hadn’t gone to bed with him, she wouldn’t be feeling now as if...

As if she at least wanted the magic of waking up beside him one more time.

She wouldn’t be wishing she could really come back. That she’d forced the issue when she’d had the chance. Maybe that she hadn’t run away. That she still had him. She had almost gift wrapped him for the Tara Hugheses he had had over the years.

“Yeah,” Alex said, rising. “I guess I’m beat, too. ’Night, guys.” She, in turn, kissed everyone good night, pausing by her mother. “Last copout, Mom. You’ve got to vacation with us from now on, okay? You see, you’re still awake. You didn’t go to bed. You should have come with us tonight.”

Kathy blinked. Ah, there was the irony. She did go to bed. “I should have,” she agreed.

Jordan made a slightly choking sound over his coffee.

“Jeremy, your things are up in Dad’s office. It’s as nice as any of the bedrooms and is next to Mom. Want me to show you?”

“Yes,” Jeremy said, apparently forgetting for the moment that he might want to appear to go up with Kathy.

“Shall I make sure we’re all locked up?” Angel asked Jordan.

“Yep, thanks, Angel. I’ll take a walk around the premises myself once I go out.”

“Good night then,” Angel said.

Jordan stood by the table; Kathy still leaned against the counter. They looked at one another, listening to the footsteps as the others went up the stairs, to Angel locking the front door, setting the alarm.

“Who called?” Kathy asked.

“Mickey.”

“Dean?” she asked, frowning. Mickey was a good friend. They’d gone to Miami High together, graduated in the same class. Mickey had helped them through the inquest, the red tape, the pain when Keith had died.

“Mickey Dean,” Jordan agreed.

“And?”

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at her.

“You don’t believe in my fears and concerns. So why are you questioning me now?”

“Because I happened to answer the phone!” Kathy said with aggravation. “Because I now know what you’re thinking, and because someone is playing a hoax—or something—on you.”

He was silent a minute, still watching her.

“Isn’t Muscleman going to miss you?”

“Jordan, answer me.”

“Whoever called did it from a phone booth.”

“A phone booth where?”

“South Beach.”

“South Beach!” she gasped. “But that’s where the girls were tonight!”

“It wasn’t the girls!”

She shook her head wildly. “That’s not what I mean. They could have been in danger. Maybe they were being stalked. Maybe whoever called was following them and knew you weren’t with them, maybe even knew that I was here and that I wasn’t with—”

“Calm down! You’re the one convinced that these are just crank calls, that Keith’s death was a tragedy, nothing more.”

“Jordan, I don’t like any of this. It doesn’t make any sense. But there are all kinds of lunatics in the world. We can’t let the girls go out and that’s that.”

He arched a brow at her. “Kathryn, remember, you finally came here because your oldest daughter is about to become twenty-one. You’re going to ground her now?”

“I want to talk to Mickey,” she said stubbornly. “And I don’t want them out anywhere tomorrow.”

He shrugged. “We can take the boat out tomorrow. That will keep everyone together. For a day. And we can go out with Mickey tomorrow night alone for dinner. No, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“What could you possibly tell Jeremy?”

She waved a hand in the air. “Something. I can think of something.”

He arched a brow. “Interesting. You’ve got him that much under heel?”

“Jordan, my relationships are none of your business.” She frowned.

“Just trying to keep this one afloat for you,” he said.

“I can keep things afloat myself, thank you. What about the child?” she asked sweetly.

“Which child? Bren or Alex?”

Kathy sighed. “Neither. I’m talking about Tara.”

“Funny, Kathy, funny. Think you might be just a little bit jealous of her age?”

“Not when I have Muscleman at my side,” she replied sweetly. She wanted to bite her lip, take back her words. Too late. She had been catty. And she’d gotten what she deserved. A save-play had been all that was left to her.

She shook her head, setting her cup in the sink, moving industriously about to pick up the sandwich meats and set them back in the refrigerator.

“How do we go out with Mickey and make sure they stay safely home?”

“The girls aren’t in any danger.”

“Why?”

“They were little kids when Keith died.”

“Not so small. He died right after Alex’s eleventh birthday. Bren was nine.”

“Kathy, they’ll stay home if you ask them to. You haven’t realized that the little sweethearts think they
can
put Humpty Dumpty back together? They’ll be a pair of chattering-magpie matchmakers if they think we’re going out alone together.”

“We’ll tell them we’re going out with old friends. We can’t—”

“We can’t what?” he demanded.

“We can’t give them false hopes,” she finished softly.

Her eyes lowered. Strangely, she felt his remain upon her. She could almost feel them pierce her like a ray of heat.

“Right,” Jordan said. “Well, thanks, this is all picked up. I guess I’ll make a few rounds and then go to bed. Good night.”

She looked up at him again. Good night. She suddenly felt chilled, miserable. Well, they were adults. Divorced. A long time ago. She’d stepped back into his house, and just like a fool, into his bed. Passion—nature—sated. They were adults. Mature adults. The little indiscretion was over. Good night. She needed to be just as cool and casual about it.

“Yeah. Good night,” she told him. Good. Cool, casual. She turned and headed quickly out of the kitchen.

But she paused then, turning back. He was standing exactly as she had left him, not even looking out after her.

“There’s one thing about Keith’s death you haven’t brought up.”

“What’s that?”

“Motive.”

“What?”

“Motive. Think about it. Who could have possibly wanted to kill Keith? Why would anyone have murdered him?”

“Motives aren’t always that easy to see.”

“Right. You guys could be passionate about your music. But he wasn’t killed in the heat of passion or anything like that. If he was murdered, someone thought it all out carefully. Knocked him out with his own drugs, burned the guest house to the ground. Someone was really angry with him.”

Jordan shrugged. “Hell, I was furious with him half the time.”

“That’s right. You two were the best of friends. You loved each other, and you hated each other. You might be one person with a motive,” Kathy informed him.

“Ummm. He was my best friend. And he was in love with you,” Jordan said flatly.

“He wasn’t in love with me.”

“He was.”

“Damn you, Jordan—”

“I didn’t say you acted on it. Or even that you knew. But he was in love with you and he used you, and you didn’t stop him from doing it.”

“Jordan—”

“Kathy, truce! I swear, I’m not saying you slept with him or anything. He used your friendship, your affection.”

She smiled bitterly. “This is a ridiculous conversation now. And yet... we should have had it ten years ago.”

“Perhaps. But you left.”

“You weren’t talking. I kept trying to talk, and all that happened was that we fought.”

“Maybe I was afraid you had responded to Keith.”

“And maybe I was afraid you had responded to a number of creatures in skirts.”

“Thanks. Boy, we really did have a lot of faith in one another!”

“Strange, I had trusted you.”

“And I trusted you.”

“Always?” she inquired with skeptical courtesy. “With Keith, right.”

“Keith was always around.”

“Your best friend.”

“In love with you.”

“I told you—”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But we’re funny creatures, aren’t we? And when things begin to crumble—”

“Humpty Dumpty falls right off the wall,” she murmured.

“Yeah. More or less.”

Humpty Dumpty, shattered to bits. It suddenly seemed incredibly sad that it had all happened, that the pieces were scattered like dust in the wind.

“Well—again—good night,” Jordan said after a moment. He sounded very cool. Casual. Humpty Dumpty had fallen nearly a decade ago.

“Uh-huh. Good night,” she replied, just as casually. But her heart seemed to be beating a thousand miles an hour again, and she could feel a red flush creeping into her flesh. What an evening. She walked into his house, into his arms, panting, half-weeping—and now they might have shared nothing more than a handshake.

Fine. Dignity was the order of the day. Damn, how did she keep forgetting that?

She spun around, and left him.

After hurrying up the stairs, she closed herself into her room. His room. Once their room. The bed still an absolute tangle, subtly scented with him, his body, the very, very light musk lingering from their love-making.

Great! Now she had to sleep here!

Damn him, she was going to.

She straightened the sheets, cursing softly beneath her breath, and lay down, her hands folded over her chest, and stared up at the ceiling.

She winced, realizing she was positioned like a corpse. She turned to her side. A shower might help. Take away the lingering scent and feel of him.

A shower would help.

Somehow, she didn’t quite get up to take one. She didn’t sleep, she didn’t move. She lay there.

Awake.

Aware of all the subtle scents and memories that lingered within the room.

A
NGEL GARCIA WAS BOTH
completely competent and entirely trustworthy, but that night, Jordan went around checking the locks himself. He exited the main house by the kitchen as he had done with Kathy before, then walked around to the front of the main house. He had almost two full acres on the island with two hundred feet on the water in the rear. The house, pool, and guest house used up a lot of space, making it a large, comfortable home and yet not an ostentatious one. He still loved the place. Even if he did feel a touch of bitterness regarding it now and then.

In the bedroom on the second floor of the guest house he found himself riveted to the window once again, looking across the pool and patio to his own bedroom window. He wouldn’t see her again; he knew it. He was right. No sign of her.

He turned away, feeling the most ungodly tension streak through him.

There wasn’t a damn thing he could do.

The human psyche was strange, maybe that of the male of the species even stranger. His urge was to walk back over to the house again, slam open the door, and toss Muscleman out on his tight and perfect buttocks.

Maybe Muscleman was actually sleeping in his own room.

Why?

Because Kathy might want to be alone. He couldn’t begin to imagine his ex-wife switching men quite so quickly.

And what would have happened if Tara had been here?

None of it made sense to question. He shouldn’t have gone to the room, and he sure as hell shouldn’t have made love to his ex-wife. He hurt too badly now, with a pain he couldn’t quite understand. Were such things possible, he wouldn’t go back and undo what had happened between them for anything in the world. It had happened too quickly, too naturally. And it seemed to reinforce something that he had never been able to shake. A commitment that went deeper than words on paper, feelings so entangled that no matter what the beauty of the word “love,” it failed to describe them.