JAKrentz - Witchcraft (16 page)

"I'll keep that in mind." Obediently she moved to the opposite side. But the forced lightness in her words ended as he got into bed beside her. With a small cry she went to him, clinging to his reassuring warmth and strength. "Ah,
Cavenaugh
, I was so scared tonight."

"I know how it feels, sweetheart," he rasped thickly. "Believe me, I know how it feels. God, you were brave." He stroked her hair, twining his legs with hers. "YOU looked like a warrior queen when I came through the door. I wanted to kill that punk on the floor. If you hadn't already knocked him out, I probably would have. It was too close, Kim. Much too close for my peace of mind. That's why I couldn't let you stay alone tonight."

"I would have had nightmares," she confessed. "YOU think I wouldn't have had them, too? That little scene in the tasting room is going to haunt me for a long time." He continued to stroke her, not with passion but with long, soothing motions. "I can't seem to calm down," Kimberly whispered tightly. "All my nerves feel as though they've been plugged into an electric outlet."

"It's reaction, honey, just reaction. Takes a while for your system to settle down after something that traumatic."

"You seem to understand."

"I do." She thought about the way he had come through the door with the gun in his hand. "You've been through this kind of scene before," she said softly. "No, never quite like this,"
Cavenaugh
denied flatly. "I've never walked into a room and found my woman facing an armed punk."

"You didn't exactly '' into the tasting room. You and Starke came through that door like the U.S. Marines." His arms tightened around her and Kimberly snuggled gratefully into his embrace. Inside she savored the words "my woman."

"Don't ever do that to me again, Kim,"
Cavenaugh
ordered harshly. "Believe me, I didn't set out to do it to you tonight!

Or to myself."

"You shouldn't have gone out into the garden alone."

Kimberly lifted her head. "
Cavenaugh
," she protested. "No one ever said anything about not going out onto the patio or into the garden.

That electronically rigged rock wall was the only barrier!" He groaned, pushing her head back down on his shoulder. "Technically, you're right.

What I'm really trying to say is, don't wander out of my sight again.

Understand?" She smiled faintly in the darkness, inhaling the earthy, masculine scent of his skin. "I understand. I'm not sure how practical that will be, but I understand."

"Damn it, Kim, I wasn't going to yell at you tonight."

"No? You were going to wait until morning?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I was. I still intend to wait until morning. This isn't the time."

"Why not?"

"Because you're in shock. I told you, I know what the reaction feels like."

"How is it you know so much about it?" she asked softly. "Just what sort of import-export company did you run before you returned to
Cavenaugh
Vineyards?"

"A perfectly legitimate and profitable one." She sensed him smiling against her hair. "Rugs and trinkets and doodads from all over the world?"

"Something like that," he agreed absently. "Do you still own the business?"

"No, I sold it two years ago when I came back here." "Do you miss it?" she . "All the travel and freedom and everything?" She felt him hesitate. "No.

That part of my life is over. I'm content making my wine. It's a very satisfying kind of work, Kim."

"I know what it's like to have a satisfying career. I'm very lucky to have my writing." Again she sensed a hesitation in him and then
Cavenaugh
said quietly, "It won't always be enough for you, Kim. I realize that you think it will because right now your life seems to hold everything you need. But you're a warm, sensitive woman. You weren't cut out to spend your whole life alone."

"I don't intend to spend it completely alone." His hand moved impatiently on her thigh. "I know. You're looking for your real-life Josh Valerian. The perfect man, unencumbered by family and responsibility. But he's not out there, Kim. He doesn't exist except in your books. And you're far too passionate and real to be content with a fictional lover." Surprised by the vehemence in his voice, Kimberly didn't argue. "I agree with you.' she said simply. "What?"

Green eyes narrowing,
Cavenaugh
rolled her over onto her back and trapped her beneath him. "I said, I agree with you." Smiling up at him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Make love to me,
Cavenaugh
. I need you."

"Not half as much as I need you," he groaned huskily, lowering his head to taste the sweet skin of her shoulder. "Oh, God.

Not half as much as I need you. But I won't stop trying until you realize you want me more than anything else on this earth!" He slid his hands up along her sides, pushing the T-shirt out of the way. When her bare breasts were revealed in the shadows he tantalized the tips gently with the palm of his hand until they became firm. Kimberly felt the hardness of his arousal as he pressed himself strongly against her thigh. When he drew one of her hands away from his neck and guided it down to his manhood, she moaned in soft wonder. "Such gentle hands,"
Cavenaugh
muttered achingly. "You drive me out of my mind, sweetheart."

He let his fingers glide teasingly along the inside of her thighs until she was arching against his hand. Then he touched the dampening heart of her and Kimberly gasped aloud.
Cavenaugh
lifted his head from her breast to drink in the sight of her parted lips and luminous eyes. She caught at his shoulders, pulling him to her. "love me,
Cavenaugh
. I love you so much!"

"Kim!" She heard t he ravishing hunger in his voice and then he was forging into her, taking her completely. The elemental power of his lovemaking captured her, binding her to him in the most primitive of ways. Kimberly clung, her nails leaving small marks of passion in his shoulders, her legs wrapped tightly around his driving thighs. And then came the moment when her head tipped back over his arm and her body shuddered delicately beneath him. Kimberly was vaguely aware of
Cavenaugh
calling out her name and heard his fierce demand.

"Tell me again, Kim. Say you love me."

"I love you,
Cavenaugh
. I love you-" Then the words were cut off as he poured the essence of himself deeply into her body. The long moment of violent, male release drained both of them. It was a long while before
Cavenaugh
stirred and slowly uncoupled himself from her warmth. Kimberly turned into him, seeking shelter and comfort and empathy. "Did you mean it, Kim?" he asked finally, his hands moving through the tangled mass of her hair. "I love you,
Cavenaugh
." He muttered something she couldn't understand and folded her more tightly against him. "Remember that, sweetheart."

"How could I forget?"

"Kim, I have to be certain you know what you're saying," he said after a moment. "Do you understand? I want to be sure you know exactly how you feel. I want you to be completely free to love me."

"Don't worry. I'll give up Josh Valerian. It will be hard on the poor man but I expect he'll survive."

"Honey, I'm not joking."

Cavenaugh
lifted her chin up so that he could study her face. His own was harsh and unreadable. "I don't want there to be any barriers between us." Kimberly's mouth curved with love. "Stop worrying,
Cavenaugh
. I know what I'm doing. You're so good at reading my mind occasionally, can't you read it tonight?"

"I'm not sure." His eyes were hooded and brooding in the darkness. "Kim, the day after tomorrow I want to take you into San Francisco with me. We'll spend the night there." Kimberly glowed. "A little time to ourselves?"

"There's some business we have to handle but then, yes; we'll have the night to ourselves." He hesitated and then asked carefully. "Would you like that?"

"Very much." A sigh escaped him. "Go to sleep, Kim. You've had a hell of a night." She nestled closer and allowed herself to drift comfortably off into oblivion. The last thought on her mind before she fell into a surprisingly dreamless sleep was that
Cavenaugh
hadn't told her he loved her. He was saving that for San Francisco, she decided. At dawn Kimberly awoke to find herself deeply enmeshed in
Cavenaugh's
embrace. She lay quietly for a time, thinking about the night. "Are you awake, sweetheart?" he murmured into her hair. '.
Cavenaugh
, I've been thinking about something."

"Not always a good sign in a woman." She pinched his hip and he growled, nipping her shoulder in sensuous retaliation. "I'm serious. There's something we didn't talk about last night." It seemed to Kimberly that he stiffened slightly at her words.

"What didn't we discuss?"

"Well, the whole point of your alarm system along the rock wall is to keep
int
ruders
out."

"True."

"The only alarm you got last night was the one I set off when I ran toward the winery building."

"Uh-huh."

"But the character in the robes who was chasing me was already inside the grounds. In fact, he was inside the garden, near the patio. How did he get there without tripping the alarm when he arrived?"

"That,"
Cavenaugh
muttered, "is a little matter I've been lying awake thinking about for the past hour."

"Did he slip in when the invited guests arrived?"

"I don't see how. Starke was monitoring everyone's arrival through the gates and Julia greeted everyone at the door. After the last guest arrived the gates were locked. Starke is very thorough about these things." Starke. The strange man who shared
Cavenaugh's
past. Kimberly shivered. But she was afraid to bring up any possible suspicions.
Cavenaugh
and Starke apparently went back a long way together.
Cavenaugh
would not thank her for voicing any doubts about his friend. Besides, Kimberly thought, dismissing her momentary questions, she had no reason to doubt Starke in the first place. His loyalty to
Cavenaugh
had been proven in the past. "What are you thinking about, Kim?"

"Loyalty," she answered truthfully. "A difficult concept to deal with at five o'clock in the morning."

"Are you sleepy?" "Want to get up?" He smiled. "Want to tell me you love me again?"

"How about if I show you?"

"I'm at your mercy."

"I've always had this thing for passive, submissive men."

"Witch," he rasped huskily, pulling her down on top of him. By noon that day Starke had a preliminary report on the man who had attacked Kimberly the previous night. He sat with Kimberly and
Cavenaugh
and told them what little he knew. "This is all unofficial at this point. Cranston gave me the information off the record. The guy's name is Nick Garwood. He's got a record that goes back to his kindergarten days. Questioned twice last year during an investigation of a stabbing death in L.A. The police down there think it was a contract killing. Right now Garwood is busy demanding his rights and a lawyer but Cranston thinks they can get him to talk."

"Any word on the source of that dagger?"
Cavenaugh
asked calmly, as if discussing a business matter. Kimberly was amazed at the matter-of-fact way he and Starke were handling this whole thing. As if they had dealt with such things often in the past. "Not yet. But Cranston let me take a look at it. It's not a cheap, stamped out knife, Dare. The handle is genuine silver and it's heavily embossed. Looks like some kind of ceremonial thing. A collector's item. Not the kind of knife a punk would use to carry out a neat, tidy contract killing. It's-" he slid an apologetic glance at Kimberly. "-it's not exactly an efficient sort of weapon. "Lucky for me," Kimberly tossed back smoothly. "Lucky for all of us,"
Cavenaugh
grated. "Any theories on how he got inside the gate without triggering the alarms?" Starke shifted his gaze to the garden outside the study window. "Dare, the only thing I can think of is that he somehow snuck in with the other guests. I don't see how, but it must have happened that way. I've been so damned careful ...!" Kimberly saw how harsh Starke was being on himself and felt compelled to interject.

"Is it possible someone inside, one of the guests, let him in?"

Cavenaugh
and Starke both turned to look at her. "Do you realize what you're saying, Kim?"
Cavenaugh
finally asked gently. "That someone you know is behind this?" "Yes, I realize it. It's just a passing thought." She smiled bleakly. "I guess I've written one too many crime novels."
Cavenaugh
shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's something that has to be considered. Starke and I went over that ground this morning. We couldn't come up with anything useful, though. Everyone here last night is a good, solid, substantial citizen of the community."

True, Kimberly reflected. In fact, realistically speaking, the newest people on the scene locally were
Cavenaugh
and Starke. It was getting very involved, she decided. "With any luck the authorities will get that Nick Garwood to talk," she offered firmly. "Perhaps he's the only villain."