Key West (33 page)

He left the room without looking back.

A cold shower didn’t calm him down, or shock his body into submission. By the time he slid, naked, between the sheets, he pulsed in every vein. Heat tormented him and he threw the sheet off. He quickly thought better of that and covered himself.

The moment had come when he’d been convinced that Sonnie’s missing husband was a violent man. Why else would she so often use the word
scared
or
frightened
when she spoke of him? And when her hand had gone to her face, he could have sworn she was remembering blows.

If the bastard showed up, God help him if he ever set another finger on her.

Sure, and what could another man do about it if the woman suffered in silence and didn’t come to him for help?

Sonnie and another man? Even if he was her husband? Chris doubted he was completely sane himself tonight. He turned off the light. With his eyes closed, holding his breath, he listened. No, he couldn’t hear her heart beating. Now who was losing it? He felt her heartbeat. That was it. He placed a hand on his own chest and could swear there was an echoing beat to his own. A lighter beat. Hers.

He’d feel so much better if she were with him.

That brought him a smile and some relief. At least he still had some sense of humor left. A man didn’t have to be real smart to figure out that he’d feel better with a woman in his arms—in his bed—especially if he’d been fantasizing about just that from the night they met.

“Chris?”

Now he couldn’t breathe if he wanted to.
Be strong.
He kept his mouth shut and shut his eyes.

“Chris?”

What if something had happened? “Hmm? What is it, Sonnie?”

“Um, I...Can I come in?”

No.
“Sure. What’s the problem?”

“Well, I wanted to talk some more.”

He stared toward her in the half light from the upper hall. That statement was a lie. She didn’t want to talk. “Okay. Give me a minute to get decent and we’ll go downstairs.”

“Couldn’t we talk here?” She stood beside him, looking down. “Would it be all right if I got into bed with you?”

Fate could be a joker, Chris decided. “Are you sure you ought to do that?” And he would soon be up for sainthood.

“If you don’t want to talk, I won’t keep you awake. I’ll be very still and quiet.” A long, expelled breath sounded loud. “I’m tired, too, but I just don’t want to be alone. You could move over a bit, and I’ll lie on the very edge.”

Safe in the dark, he rolled his eyes. But he obediently moved to the far side of the bed. She slipped in, barely moving the mattress, and did as she’d promised.

“There’s more safe room than that,” he said. “You’ll fall off there.”

She bumped a couple of times, but didn’t move perceptibly closer to him.

He put a hand behind his head and stared at the ceiling. One piece of cotton the thickness of a tissue was all that separated her skin from his.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to will his penis into retreat. He rolled his hips slightly to the right, just in case she fell instantly asleep and got too close.

“Are you asleep?” she whispered.

Chris didn’t answer.

“Asleep,” she whispered. “You should sleep. You’re good, Chris Talon, a good man.”

Would she feel the way his heart had speeded up?

She sighed and turned on her side, the side that let her face him, he thought.

Some time passed. She must have fallen asleep herself. Her hand settling on his chest made him doubt she was other than very much awake. There was a sound and he knew she’d moved again. He became convinced she was looking at him and kept his eyes shut.

The backs of her fingers connected with his jaw, and touched his neck. More bumpy action on the mattress followed. She’d shifted closer, and he’d bet his life she was watching him.

When she rubbed her flattened hand over his chest and passed the tip of a forefinger back and forth over first one, then his other nipple, he felt winded. His thighs hardened, and his buttocks. The tension in those muscles raised him higher from the bed—all of him.

Her touch on his stomach was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Devoid of any demand. The gentle touch of a woman drawing strength and prepared to give it back. She tended him, soothed him. She cared about him.

Delusions. A place between soft sheets with a sweet woman who was everything he’d probably dreamed about, when he dreamed about having someone who would be that “helpmate” he’d been told to look for a long time ago.

He was naked.
Sonnie hardly dared shift for fear of what she might touch.

His skin, the hair on his skin, aroused her. And she was wrong to be here—to be here touching him, taking advantage of his kindness. Billy had told the truth: he was gorgeous, and Sonnie wasn’t the type of woman he would want. But could a woman be blamed for taking the chance to be with him, even for a little while?

His arm was behind his head. The faint light that seeped from the hall showed the sharp line of his profile and neck. Against the white pillow, the muscles in his shoulder and upper arm were flexed. She wanted to feel those muscles, and touch the skin on the inner side of his hipbones—to rest a hand on his thigh. Most of all, she wanted to put her head on his shoulder and lie against him. If she could do that without his waking up and making her move away, well then, she’d sleep.

Her hand was warm, and he didn’t jump when she tucked her fingers beneath the covers and, oh so cautiously, rubbed his hip. The skin on the inside, at the edge of his belly, was smooth, but the slightest reaching brought her into contact with hair again, hair with the changed, coarse texture of pubic hair.

Only with great effort did she keep still long enough to get over wanting to pull away. His thigh shocked her. So hard it didn’t give at all, the muscles felt massive and absolutely rigid.

Her breasts stung. They were tender, and that tender, constricted sensation found its way between her legs. She had no right, but she wished, so desperately, that he would make love to her.

Remembering to breathe, she drew closer. Inch by inch she brought her body close enough to touch his. Her thighs rested against his buttock. Sonnie gritted her teeth.
Ecstasy must be like this.
Did such things have to be forbidden to be so exquisite?

Waiting for Chris to set her firmly back where she belonged—if he didn’t make her leave altogether—Sonnie lowered her head to his shoulder.

He didn’t wake up.

She put an arm over him and settled herself close at his side.

Time passed. Her neck was at an awkward angle. Wiggling to get more comfortable, she turned to lie partly on top of him, with her cheek on his chest and her breasts flattened to his ribs.

Repeatedly she drove her teeth into her bottom lip. The moment should never stop, this moment. Drawing herself higher, she settled her face into the hollow of his shoulder, close to his jaw, embraced his still body, and put her knee on his belly.

She panted lightly and couldn’t stop, and couldn’t listen to the reason that warned her to leave him at once.

The calf of her raised leg was where it should never be. The base of his penis pressed against skin and bone.

She gasped. He was erect.

But she only clutched him harder. Clutched him, kissed his jaw, raised her face until she could press her lips to his cheek. “Sonnie,” he said quietly. “For God’s sake, Sonnie. What…Why are you doing this?”

Twenty-two

Sonnie rolled away from him, and he prepared to grab for his shorts and go after her.

She didn’t leave the bed. Rather, she turned on her other side and put as much distance between them as possible.

Chris looked at her back, at the tumble of hair and pale shoulder picked out by faint light from the hallway. “Come back here,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I only wanted to get as close to you as I could. I wanted to feel you because you’re alive and strong. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I want you back where you were. Because you’re alive and strong and I want you as close as I can get you.” He settled on his side, too, where he could see any move she made.

“You think I’m disgusting.”

He snorted. “Oh, I surely do, darlin’. Disgustin’. May every man be cursed with a woman as disgustin’ as you are. This world would be a peaceful place filled with happy men.”

That didn’t buy him any answer. “Why would you expect me to think you’re disgusting?”

“Υou know. I don’t have to tell you.”

“ I’m afraid you do.”

Her elbow angled up and she gathered her hair on top of her head. He’d forgotten just how special small, intimate moments could be, the kind of moments a man and woman shared when they weren’t studying every move.

“I’m not the kind of woman who cheats.”

“You think I haven’t figured out how honorable you are?”

She rested the back of her hand on her temple. “Some of the things I’ve thought—and done—aren’t very honorable.”

He wanted to hear her tell him about the things she’d thought. “Υοu don’t have a thing to feel guilty about.” Sometimes you had to be patient and hope you’d be told what you’d like to hear—eventually.

“You don’t know what goes through my mind. My madwoman’s mind.”

“You aren’t crazy.” He rose to an elbow and propped his head on his hand. “Don’t say that about yourself.” Strange how a time like this could feel better than any other time he remembered.

“I...When I got in this bed I...I had notions I have no right to have.”

He was a weak man. “You want to share those notions? So I can make you feel better about them?”

“I’ll tell you. Just so you understand you’ve got to be careful around me because I get wild ideas. As long as you don’t let me go anywhere with those ideas, I won’t make a fool of myself, or put you in a difficult position.”

Come on. Come on. Spill it all, sweetheart.

“I mean, I’ve got to stop it. It’s not right and I know it, but it keeps happening.”

What keeps happening?
He had to let her tell it in her own way and time or she might back off again.

“I shock you, don’t I?”

“No.” But he’d like her to, Chris decided. He’d really like her to finish telling him her dreadful truths, too. Preferably before the sun came up.

A tinny rendition of the opening bars to the
William Tell
Overture brought a curse to his lips. Fortunately—thanks to his brother’s recent lectures on being appropriate around ladies, and Sonnie in particular—he’d already learned to swallow such vile words.

“What is it?” Sonnie asked as the notes played again. She sounded anxious, damn it.

“Just my cell phone,” he said, and reached for the bedside table. “I thought that was a cute ring until now. Sorry.” He hit the answer button and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah?” If his tone didn’t get rid of whatever slime called at a time like this, nothing would.

Nothing did. “Chris Talon?” A man’s voice.

“You’ve got him.”

“I apologize for disturbing you so late.” The formality, and the accent, gave the caller away. Chris didn’t allow himself to say Romano’s name aloud. The less Sonnie knew about this conversation would probably be better.

“Chris? May I call you Chris? This is Romano Giacano.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“None of your God...None of your business. Good night.”

“Don’t hang up. I must speak with you. It’s about Sonnie.”

Evidently, Chris thought, the fact that he was more than a little interested in the lady wasn’t much of a mystery. “Make it quick. I need my beauty sleep.”

Romano gave a short laugh. As quickly as the laugh had come, it faded. The man cleared his throat. “This is awkward. I, er...I have had some difficulty.” He made a sound that was suspiciously like an
effort to hide emotion.  “A great deal has been happening. I haven’t wanted to go to Sonnie yet because she is so deeply disturbed. But now I must let her know what I know.”

“What do you know?” Chris’s body hadn’t made the slightest move toward neutral. He inclined his head to look at Sonnie again. One tiny piece of encouragement and his gears would be racing.

This was taking too long. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Very well. I will start with the first matter. Please, you must keep your counsel on what I say to you. My greatest fear is that Sonnie will run again, and this time we may not be so fortunate in finding her quickly. You understand?”

“I understand.” They might not be so fortunate. Fortunately for Chris, tracking people down was one of his major accomplishments.

“I have spoken with Jim Lesley. He is highly respected in his field, and because he’s in love with Billy, he’s more than willing to help Sonnie. Will you assist me in getting her to agree to go into therapy with him?”

“You ask me that out of the blue? Hell, no, I won’t.”

“Because you don’t believe she’s in trouble.”

Sonnie turned on her back but didn’t look at him. He wanted to reach out and pull her against him. “I didn’t say that,” he told Romano. “But your interpretation of trouble and mine are different in this case.”

“There are things you don’t know. I talked to Jim about Sonnie’s call to me earlier tonight. She called from her house and sounded near collapse. Terror. That’s what I heard in her. She insisted Frank had called her.”

“Oh, yeah?” He’d better be more surprised. “Oh, come on. You’re not serious, are you?”

“I do not joke, my friend.”

“Why call me about this?”

“Because I can tell she trusts you. You are a strong man. Sonnie has always needed a strong man to take care of her. She is nothing on her own.”

Chris really didn’t like this man. “I can’t respond to that.” She’d admitted that what she wanted most was to be a wife and mother. And he’d bet she’d make a fantastic job of it.

“My brother needed a different kind of wife. I tried to tell him, but”—Chris could almost see the other man shrug—”who is the one who listens to reason when he thinks he’s in love? At first he enjoyed her adoration, her dependency. But it became boring to him.”