Reclaim My Life (25 page)

“Phyllis is going to have a picnic with this.”

“Who?”

“Phyllis Gillespie, editor of our local tabloid.”

So much venom filled his voice that Elizabeth refrained from asking more. Fortunately, Wilson led them into a circular driveway in front of the small brick colonial that was Dean Samuel Drake’s residence.

When Wilson started helping his dad from her truck, Harold scolded him: “Why didn’t you tell me there’s been another murder, son?”

“We found a body. It’s not been determined yet whether it’s a homicide.” He cast Elizabeth a questioning look.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

Wilson shrugged. “I’ll tell you everything we know, but first let’s get inside.”

Samuel stood in the doorway. Until she’d seen both brothers together, she’d not thought of them as resembling each other. The dean had reddish hair, similar to the color of Harold’s thinning strands, and a rugged complexion that reminded her of the actor David Caruso. Wilson’s features, she now recognized, were nearly identical but with blond hair and a fairer complexion, suggesting that his hair color had come from his mother. She’d not seen any portraits of the woman in either of her brief visits to Drake Oaks.

It took nearly an hour to haul everything inside the dean’s residence and get Harold settled, not that she’d been much help. Wilson insisted she stay inside and away from doors and windows. The townhouse was not wheelchair-friendly, so Wilson and Samuel turned the living room into a temporary bedroom for their dad. As soon as Harold returned to his wheelchair, Sophie turned in a circle and plopped at his feet. Before they left, Wilson sat on a wingback chair near his father.

“Dad, I have to go back to work. Hazel will be here in the morning, but if you need anything—”

“I’ll manage. You and Samuel needn’t worry about me.” He gave each son a pointed stare. “Half of me still functions.”

At that moment, Harold looked almost as young as either son. He straightened his posture and ordered them to stop fussing over him. Then he thanked Elizabeth for her help and invited her to drop by to visit him.

“Only a hurricane could keep me away.” Well, a hurricane, a contract killer, or the feds, but she didn’t say that.

Wilson escorted her to her truck. “I’m following you home and checking out the house.”

“Yes, sir.” Though tempted to salute him, she smiled.

He grimaced. “Sorry. I don’t mean to order people around.”

“Don’t apologize.” She cupped his jaw in her hand. “I’m touched that you worry about my safety.”

He covered her hand with his and held her gaze. “Darlin’.”

A rush of pure lust heated her body. Seconds passed in silence, the passion in his eyes matching the fire inside her. If he’d wanted to kiss her, he must have reconsidered. After all, they were parked under a streetlight in full view of the dean’s living room window. Not cool to put on a display in front of his family.

Pulling her hand free, she buckled her seatbelt. “You said you need to get back.”

“Yeah.” Regret tinged his voice. “But I’ll do my best to finish up in time to eat dinner at your friends’ place tomorrow.”

She took that to mean he’d be getting little sleep tonight. “I have a suggestion. Rather than drive all the way back to Drake Oaks tonight—or whenever you finally get to break for a few hours—you can sack out at my house. I’ll give you a key.”

Wilson’s neutral expression morphed into one of surprise. Oh, dear, she’d just offered her key. Did he think she wanted him to move in with her? He probably wanted to run for his life from her offer. Heat suffused her body, this time from embarrassment.

When he didn’t say anything, she panicked. “That didn’t come out right. I meant I’d loan you a key for tonight—”

He silenced her with a long kiss, in front of his family, God, and the world. The touch of his lips and the gentle caress of his tongue blocked out everything else. She focused only on his talented mouth, fueling fantasies of having him kiss every inch of her body. Her nipples tightened against the inside of her bra, the whisk against soft cotton further arousing her.

When he finally paused to take a breath, he touched his forehead to hers. “I accept your offer, darlin’, but don’t think you’re going to stick me in the guest room.”

It was almost midnight when Wil and Ronda Lou called a halt. Jamie Peterson met Wil at the dispatch desk with news that the Magnolia PD in Arkansas had picked up Michael Moore, the former abusive boyfriend of Cathleen Hodges. Unfortunately, he had an iron-clad alibi. He’d been working on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. News of Hodges’s death appeared to hit him hard, so Wil moved him to the bottom of the short list of suspects.

Preliminary reports placed the time of death of the second victim between Saturday and Monday, the same time period of the Sticky Swamp fire. Using Dr. Jarrell’s dental X-rays, FDLE confirmed the identity of the corpse as Kris Knight. Wil notified next of kin, which was no easy task. Now he had to face Elizabeth with the terrible news.

His earlier thrill at her invitation to stay the night vanished. She’d hardly be in the mood for making love when he told her. Guiding his Jeep down the now-deserted Main Street, he turned onto Fifth and drove to her house, parking in her driveway behind her Chevy S-10.

Using the key she’d given him, he unlocked the front door and then closed and bolted it. A single night-light burned in the dining room, casting the living room in a dim light. Elizabeth appeared in the shadowed archway that led from the hall. Her short hair tousled and her eyelids at half-mast, she padded into the living room.

“What’s happened?”

He hadn’t wanted to disturb her—not this way. He couldn’t let the scent from her shower gel or shampoo or whatever the hell smelled so nice distract him. Now wasn’t the time to notice how her University of Georgia sleep shirt barely covered her long legs. He shouldn’t be staring at her nipples poking the gray knit fabric. Did she have on panties? His own underwear grew tight at the thought of her naked.
Get a grip, idiot!

“I have bad news, honey.”

She drew her quivering lower lip between her teeth and stared. Her eyes, moist with unshed tears, seemed to speak to him. She knew. He didn’t have to say the words.

He barely heard her softly spoken question. “The burned body is Kris, isn’t it?”

“The dental records match, so we believe so. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, God.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks. “Cathleen, and now Kris.”

He held out his arms, and she moved into them. Patting her back, he said nothing. If only he could take away her pain. He offered what comfort he could, holding her and letting her sob. His body refused to ignore the warmth of her or how perfectly she fit against him, but he did his best to position himself to avoid inappropriate contact. Now wasn’t the time for her to feel his erection.

She composed herself and pulled back, staring at the wet circle she’d left on his shirt. “Oh, dear. I messed up your uniform.”

He shrugged. “I’ll have to run home before morning and change anyway.”

“No.” The volume and tone of her voice did not cover the tremor. “Take off your clothes, and I’ll run them through the wash.”

He grinned, hoping to coax a smile from her. “Darlin’, I’ve dreamed of you asking me to get naked, but—”

“Then get naked.” When he didn’t move, she heaved a weary sigh. “Look, we’re adults. I invited you to spend the night.”

“You’re upset right now. Two of your friends have been murdered—”

“So Kris
was
murdered. What happened?”

“We don’t know yet, but—” He didn’t want to give her graphic details about a bullet hole found in the skull. “She was shot.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Just like Cathleen—”

“We don’t know that yet, either.” He reached for her, pulling her back into his arms. “Didn’t you say Kris had an ex-husband?”

She hiccupped and blinked rapidly, fighting more tears. “Yes, but she said he was a nice guy, just that they grew apart.”

“Did she mention where he is now?”

She shook her head. “But he’s remarried and has a daughter. He and Kris broke up a long time ago.”

“He’s an unlikely suspect then. Still, I’ll need to check him out.” He smoothed her hair and hugged her against his shoulder, loving the scent of baby powder and fresh spring flowers from whatever she’d used in her shower.

“I know Kris used her maiden name. I haven’t a clue what his name is. She just referred to him as her ex.”

“You smell nice.” He gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her away. “I’d like a rain check on that invitation to stay the night.”

“You’re right about my emotional state, but you aren’t taking unfair advantage if you sleep with me, Wilson. If anything, it’s what I need. You’re the only true friend I have, the only person who knows who I am. I need to be me, Fia, just for tonight.”

Damn. He wanted to take her to bed, no doubt about it. Her candor and directness made her difficult to resist. “When we make love, I don’t want you to regret it.”

“I don’t want
you
to regret it, either.” She closed the distance between them and reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Let’s get your clothes in the washer.”

“If you help me undress, the clothes won’t make it to the washer.” Removing her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed her palm.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. “They will… eventually.”

He moved his lips to her wrist and kissed the spot where her pulse raced. Her moan was all the encouragement he needed. Tugging her against him, he covered her mouth in a kiss filled with need and yearning. She returned his kiss with equal fervor, and he lost himself in the sweetness of her taste.

No woman he’d held before her came close to the rightness of Elizabeth in his arms. He’d known for months they’d be good together. Did she feel it, too? Had that been the reason for her keeping him at a distance for so long?

He thanked God she’d relented at last, whatever her reasons. Caught up in the thrill of touching her, he’d lost track of everything else until the chill against his skin roused him. How had she unbuttoned his shirt without his awareness? She reached for his holster and froze.

Covering both her hands, he ended the kiss and stepped back. “I’ll remove the holster, darlin’.”

Lots of people feared firearms, but he wanted Elizabeth to overcome hers. She’d have to get used to the presence of guns, living with a cop.

Living with a cop?

Holy hell, he needed to back up, take things a step at a time. Just because he envisioned a happily ever after with her didn’t mean she shared that dream. He’d do his best to make the night unforgettable. He wanted to force from her mind the memory of whatever her fiancé had done to betray her. Even more, Wil wanted his own face to be the one she dreamed of when she closed her eyes, his name to be the one she attached to thoughts of love.

At the moment, only one worry nagged him. When he cried out in the heat of passion, what name should be on his lips—Elizabeth … or
Fia?

Once Wilson removed the dreadful gun and holster, she resumed undressing him. Eager to jump his bones, she nonetheless wanted to linger over every inch of his body, memorizing details and savoring her exploration. She pulled his shirt from his arms, then tugged his undershirt over his head. Wiry blond hair covered his chest—his impressive pectorals that spoke of regular workouts—and arrowed south, disappearing into his slacks. Oh, my! She needed to see all of him.

When she reached for his belt buckle, he grabbed both her hands. “You’re trembling.”

A strong shiver seized her body. “Nerves.” He held her hands captive and stared into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

He seemed worried about her mental state, but why shouldn’t he? She’d proven to him she could pretend to be a completely different person. Would he think she was pretending now? He must wonder if she was using sex to take her mind off Kris’s murder.

Was she?

No matter what, she couldn’t stop shaking. “I’m not all right. Two friends have been murdered, and it could be because of me. I can’t deny that I want you, Wilson, but I also want to forget. Just for a few hours. And that makes me sound—”