Shades of Desire (10 page)

“Just for a minute. But I—I knew who I was, where I was, immediately.”

He grunted. “You’re not in pain?”

“No,” she whispered.

Her expression seemed guileless. Without deceit. But maybe that was a result of her blindness. Hell, he didn’t know what the disability did to one’s ability to cloak their feelings. Even staring at her now, if he didn’t already know she was blind, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t be as clueless as he’d been on the first day he’d met her. Shaking his head, he stood and tried to get back on course.

“Raise your arms and twist your torso.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I want to make sure you’re not hurt in other places, but I don’t think you want my hands all over you at the moment.”

Her eyes rounded, getting so huge it almost made him smile. She’d definitely caught his equivocation. Swiftly she raised her arms and did as he asked. He could tell by the way she moved and a quick visual exam that, other than the ankle and scrapes, she wasn’t seriously hurt. Barring internal bleeding, of course…

“Satisfied?” she asked, lowering his arms.

He bit back his automatic retort. “Please stand.”

“At least you said please this time,” she mumbled.

He had to bite back a smile, knowing even as he did so she wouldn’t be pleased by the amusement she was causing him. “Easy now. I’m putting my hand on your waist,” he said. As he’d anticipated, she tried to pull away.

“What are you— You just said you wouldn’t touch me!”

“No,” he said softly, not taking his hand off her, but keeping his grip light. Nonthreatening. “I said I didn’t think you’d want my hands all over you right now, and I understand that. But I need to rule out signs of internal bleeding.”

“Where’d you go to medical school?”

“Just basic medic training for police officers,” he responded lightly, refusing to let her bait him. “What I know can’t cure you, but I can at least assure myself you’re not endangering your life by refusing to go to the hospital. Unless you’re willing to reconsider?”

She quickly shook her head.

“A few seconds, then. I’m just going to press against your sides. Is that okay?”

She mumbled something.

He leaned closer. “What’s that?”

“I said, just get on with it,” she clipped out, but he saw the way her lips quivered. She was trying so hard to act tough, but he wasn’t buying it. Swiftly he palpated her sides and abdomen for tender spots before concluding she wasn’t in imminent danger.

Drawing back, he caught her almost imperceptible sigh of relief. He flexed his fingers, then placed his hands on his hips. “You’re lucky all you suffered is a sore ankle and some cuts and bruises.”

She pressed her lips together and blinked, as if she was fighting back tears. Sat back down. “Believe me. I know that.”

She was thinking about her friend, he realized. Wondering how badly she was hurt. Whether she was even alive. He hoped like hell she was. For everyone’s sake. Because he needed to know and because he wanted to distract her from her fear, he asked, “You were coming to see me. Let’s start with that first. Why?”

* * *

N
ATALIE
TOLD
HIM
EVERYTHING
, including about the photos that had run in the
Post
, the open photo file and error message on her computer, Melissa’s plan to go with her to the police station but not showing up, and even her fumbling on the ground for her cane just before her so-called cabbie had helped her. She’d been tempted to exclude the latter, but couldn’t let pride interfere with his job. He’d stayed silent during her explanation and remained so now. She clenched her teeth tightly so they wouldn’t rattle, only relaxing her jaw when he began speaking.

“You think your attacker took these farmers’ market photos, but you don’t know that for sure, do you?”

“No, but it seems to be the only explanation.”

“You don’t use a password on your computer?”

“No need, since I’m the only one that’s ever here.”

“Surely not always. Are you telling me there’s no one ever in this house who could have accessed those photos on your computer?”

“Well, if you’re talking hypothetically, I suppose my adaptive coach Bonnie and—”

“Adaptive coach?”

“She’s helping me adjust to my vision loss. Works on everything from practical living skills to posi— I mean, she’s basically helping me cope.”

“Living skills to… What were you going to say?”

“Positive imaging,” she almost choked out. “So I don’t hate myself so much I end up slitting my wrists.”

He met her lame attempt at humor with utter silence. After several heartbeats, he asked, “Who else?”

She cleared her throat. “Melissa, but she was the one who asked about the photos in the first place, so she didn’t take them.”

“So Melissa Callahan was your photography assistant? She’s the friend you haven’t been able to reach?”

He’d chosen his words carefully, she thought. Even though she’d told him Melissa hadn’t shown and that less than an hour later a killer had come after her, Mac—when had she begun thinking of him as Mac?—didn’t seem to rule out the fact Melissa might be fine. She clung to that notion with desperation, even though he probably was just trying to keep her calm.

Still, she couldn’t resist asking, “Melissa…?” Her voice trembled in spite of her best efforts to appear unaffected. She was cold and getting colder.

“We’ve got men looking for her. We’ll let you know as soon as we hear something.”

Please let that be soon. Good news soon.

“So let’s assume your attacker took these photos. What’s in them that he would want?”

“I don’t know! I’ve left a flash drive with copies of the photos by the front door. You can take them. Examine them yourself. I looked but—” She shook her head, hating the helplessness she was once again feeling.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You were there. You might remember something. Something that didn’t mean anything at the time but—”

“No, you don’t understand. I can’t remember anything from that day. I never even clearly saw the pictures I took. I—I hit my head and blacked out.”

“Wait a minute. Were you pushed? Attacked? You should have told me. How do we know it wasn’t the same—”

“No one attacked me. I just—I freaked out because…because I was doing good. I had enough vision to walk and take pictures. Just enough. But then that changed. I felt pain and everything went dark. Completely dark.”

Once more, he was silent. Probably just registering what she was saying, but in that silence she heard doubt. Not about what happened on the day of the farmers’ market, but about what might have happened earlier today.

“He said he killed her to protect God’s kingdom,” she said. “That he killed Lindsay.”

“He admitted it?”

“Yes. He said he needed to know what I did. What I’d told you. He said he was sorry again, but that God hadn’t stopped him. He seemed open to not killing me, but only if God gave him a sign. Otherwise…”

“Shit.” Mac’s curse was followed by a rasping sound that suggested he’d rubbed his hands against his face.

“It was the same man who attacked me two days ago.”

“You recognized his voice?”

“Yes. But only after I got into the cab. He saw it pull up. Told me he even chastised the driver for making me wait—” she said with a broken, disbelieving laugh.

He stepped closer toward her, and his smell—that heady, masculine, comforting combination of sandalwood and fresh oranges—made her inhale deeply.

“Look, I hate to ask you this, but I need to be sure. Sometimes people hear things when they’re under great stress. It’s not uncommon. I’ve seen it numerous times with witnesses and victims of violent crimes. Plus, my wife was a psychologist before we married. With everything you’ve been through—”

“You’re married?” Yes, she’d considered the possibility, but when push came to shove, she really hadn’t thought of him as being married. As crazy as it sounded, she’d thought of him as being…hers. Her horror was too pronounced to miss, and she wanted to shrivel up and die.

“Divorced,” he murmured.

She just nodded, feeling foolish—not just because of her revealing slip about his marital status but because he clearly thought she had mental problems. “I didn’t misunderstand him, Mac. I swear. He killed Lindsay and he was going to kill me, too.”

He hesitated, and she suddenly realized she’d used his first name. But he didn’t comment on her slip. Instead, he focused the conversation on his priority—his job.

“Okay. You said he helped you with your cane. Were you able to see anything about him? His shadow, maybe. Was your impression of his height the same? Did you see whether he had a larger frame or not?”

There was no hint of criticism in his voice, and once again she realized kindness wasn’t uncommon for him. He might fumble once in a while, but he was a protector, not just because it was his job but because it was who he was. A part of him, like his eye color or height. Even now, she felt safer, safer than she had with just Jase for company.

That made no sense. She’d called Jase because she hadn’t wanted to deal with her crazy reactions to Mac, not with what she’d just been through. But now she wanted to luxuriate in those crazy reactions. Her body warmed and her eyelids grew heavy. She was tempted to sleep. To ask him to lie down with her. Hold her.

No. What was wrong with her? Why was she obsessing about this man?

“Natalie?” he urged, reminding her of his questions.

She struggled to focus on their conversation. On the fact that someone wanted to kill her.

“He got close to me only when he helped me into the cab. But I—” She bit her lip. “I wasn’t paying that much attention because I was distracted.” Rattled by dropping her cane and feeling self-conscious. “I’d still say he’s a few inches shorter than you.”

He hadn’t been as broad, however. Nor had he had Mac’s naturally confident carriage, either.

“Voice?”

“Not too deep or high. There was something…” She stiffened. “He hummed. ‘Singing in the Rain.’ You know, from the Gene Kelly movie? He got pissed when I asked him about it.”

“Pissed how?”

“He told me to shut up.”

“And I’m sure you did, of course.”

She narrowed her eyes, hoping it made her look mean, not just squinty. “Was that a joke?” Because it had sounded like one. Had she imagined the faintly teasing tone?

“Anything else?”

She paused, shook her head, then remembered. “Wait. His hands. I remember his hands. They were large and callused. Like he worked with them a lot. Maybe a carpenter. Or a construction worker?”

“Okay, good. That’s good.” She heard scratching noises and realized he was taking notes. The fact he used pad and pencil rather than his cell phone or a PDA seemed telling. He was savvy enough to research her on the internet, but old-fashioned enough to still enjoy the feel of writing by hand. That just made him more attractive to her. Duncan had been all about his BlackBerry, even when they were on a date. Even when they were in bed.

“How long have you been divorced?” she asked. Her eyes immediately widened in surprise. What the hell?

The scratching paused, then resumed.

“Just under a year.”

She didn’t respond. How could she? She was appalled by her runaway mouth. Now he
really
would think she was needy. Needy and desperate.

Maybe she was. Why else would she be thinking about the width of Agent McKenzie’s shoulders in comparison to a criminal or asking him how long he’d been divorced?

She was still beating herself up when he murmured, “I’m single and available, too. In case that’s why you were asking.”

Her face flamed with heat. Was he playing with her, or did he just want her to know because he was attracted to her, too? Did it matter? She didn’t want to desire him. To crave him with every fiber of her being.

But like it or not, she did.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

M
AC
STUDIED
Natalie’s
face as she took in his outrageous statement. Shock was still running through his own system. He didn’t know why he’d said it. To startle her? To judge her response? No matter. He had to get things back on track.

“What I mean is, I’d be available
if
I was looking for a relationship. I’m not. That’s the last thing I want.”

She stared at him—in his direction, that is—before clearing her throat. “How come?”

“I’m not good relationship material. Most cops aren’t. I’m particularly bad at it, apparently. Ask anyone who knows my ex-wife.”

“She thought you worked too much?”

“More like I loved work more than her.”

“Was that true?”

He knew he should probably equivocate, but staring at her, all bruised up, her eyes filled with genuine curiosity, he didn’t. “Yes. It was.” It hadn’t always been that way. But the more clinging and demanding she’d become, the faster his affection for her had died. Partly because of stubbornness and partly because of how he’d been raised, he hadn’t wanted a divorce. Nancy had been the one to make that decision and file the papers. Still, he couldn’t deny that when the divorce was final, he’d been grateful. Relieved.

Her eyes flickered, either at his honesty or the unapologetic nature of it. Either way, he saw the way her expression closed up this time, as if she’d gotten his message loud and clear. It was for the best. Whether she was right about having met Lindsay’s killer or not, neither one of them could be distracted by sexual attraction right now. Or at least, they couldn’t be
more
distracted than they already were.

“So what now, Mac?” she asked.

The way she said his name once more, short and sweet with a hint of breathiness, threw him and had him scrambling for a response. “I need to go over the situation with my team and watch commander. We’ll set up a protective detail, of course—”

“Even though you’re not positive it was really Lindsay’s killer?”

“Even then. I trust your instincts. Believe you heard him confess. Plus there’s the cross pendant. Together, it’s compelling evidence. So we’ll play it safe for now.”

“I just—I just don’t want to leave my house.”

“The man knows where you live. He’s been here twice. Inside at least once. I’m surprised you even came back here instead of going straight to the police station the way you were supposed to. It would be better if—”

“I’m familiar with my house,” she said curtly, obviously not liking the way he’d chastised her. “I know how to get around. That’s how I got away from him the first time. And this time, too. Because I could guess where we were. That we were still in my neighborhood. Put me someplace unfamiliar and I’ll be helpless. Even
more
helpless.”

He hesitated, wanting her as safe as possible but acknowledging she made a good point.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mac,” she said. “I want protection. But unless you think it’s absolutely necessary, I don’t want to be moved from my house. My routine.”

He thought about it, then said slowly, “I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary. Not yet.”

She nodded. Forced a small smile. “Okay. See, that’s good. We’ll play it safe, but we won’t dismiss the possibility I overreacted. Who will stay with me? Not—not you or Jase.”

Ah, Jase. He didn’t like her bringing up his name, but he’d figured out why she kept doing it. He threatened her on a level—a primal female-to-male level—that Jase didn’t. Given their circumstances and that she was clearly fighting her attraction to him, he could hardly relish the knowledge. “You have a preference?” he asked mildly, curious what she’d say.

“If someone’s going to stay with me, I’d prefer a female officer if possible.”

There was no “if” about it. “That’s valid. We’ll see what we can do. Right now, I need to talk to Jase, but…” He paused, wanting to reach out and smooth her hair and straighten her rumpled clothes. “You did the smart thing, jumping out of that car, Natalie. The brave thing.”

The stubborn woman shook her head. “I’m not brave. Not anymore.”

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.” He could tell his statement pleased her. Her blindness had shaken her confidence, but inherently she was a warrior. He wanted to give that back to her. Wished he could give her so much more. If he was capable of it.

But he wasn’t. Not anymore. Now he just wanted to concentrate on his job. Do what good he could and still maintain some freedom. Some breathing room…

He looked around, suddenly feeling the need to loosen his collar. Because if he kept looking at her, wanting to put his hands on her… “Are you okay here? I need to find Jase.” He didn’t want to leave her, but he wanted to see those reports. And he needed to stop thinking about her as a woman and start thinking of her as just another clue in the case.

“Sure, but…” She paused and looked away again, blushing until her cheeks were a rosy pink. He noticed she only tended to blush when she slipped up, showing her attraction to him, or when she needed to ask for help.

Sensing what she’d been going to ask, he said, “I’ll be back in a flash.” When she said nothing, he prodded, “Aw, come on. Camera, flash.
That
was a joke. Cheesy, yes, but all the more reason to make you smile.”

He got nothing.

“Natalie?” He stepped closer. She was clasping her hands together so tightly they’d turned white. Outwardly, she was holding it together. Inwardly, she was losing it. “Nat—”

“Can you stay for just a minute?” The words rushed from her lips, as if slowing down might mean never getting them out. “Say something to distract me? Because I just started thinking of Melissa and how she thanked me for always taking care of her… .” Her voice broke. “And I—I don’t want to think about someone coming after me again because he thinks—”

He crouched in front of her, his knees pressing against her legs through their clothes, and took her hands, which were ice-cold despite the sun shining through the windows. He rubbed his thumbs in light circles against the tops of them. “Evidence to the contrary, we’re going to protect you, Natalie,” he assured her.

“So you said. But can you distract me? Please?” Her hands turned, and her fingers tightened on his. He wondered if she even realized what she was doing.

He struggled for something to say to her. Battled with the knowledge he needed to get the protective detail rolling. That her safety was his priority. Then again, she was with him. How much safer could she be? Because he knew he’d protect her, just as he’d protect any witness. Even though she brought out feelings in him no other witness ever had.

“You asked me how Jase breathes,” she choked out.

“Yeah,” he said cautiously. He wasn’t sure, with his protective instincts bouncing around inside him, that he really wanted to hear her thoughts in connection with Jase at all.

“Despite the fact he’s more laid-back than you, he doesn’t always take time to breathe. He gets caught up in whatever’s captured his attention at the moment. He holds his breath, then gulps it in. He needs to pace himself a bit more, before he burns out.”

He smiled, imagining how Jase would react to her description. “So, he’s what? Flighty? Shallow?”

“No. He just hasn’t fully found himself. What is he? Thirty-two? Thirty-one?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“So he made special agent—detective, right?—early. That makes sense. When he finds something he values, he takes care of it. He’s a good guy, if a little fast on the trigger.”

“Not the way a man generally wants to be described,” he murmured, sensing immediately how his innuendo thickened the air and caused a spark of heat where their fingers still touched. Again, that telltale blush spread across her cheeks.

Releasing her, he stood. He thought of the way Jase had called him out the day they’d met her. Definitely a good guy, but Natalie was right. Despite his slow drawl, he could be rash. Then again, given his own recent actions, Mac couldn’t exactly cast stones.

He stared at her, disturbed by her insight.

If she saw Jase that clearly, what did she see in him?

He walked around to the other side of the table and dropped into the chair across from her, noting how she seemed to track his movements through the sound he made. “How much of me can you see, exactly?”

She breathed a sigh as she realized he was indeed going to stay and give her the distraction she’d asked for. “Why?”

“You said sometimes you can see details. Can you see them now?”

She shrugged. “I can see your shape. Like I’m seeing you through a lens, one covered with a gray veil or a thick gel. I can see clearer if you’re against a light background, because that creates a more definable contrast line.”

“Is that how you can still take your photographs?”

“I don’t—”

“I saw your camera on the console table. With its cap off this time.”

She looked embarrassed that he knew. “Very observant, Agent McKenzie.”

Ah. So they were back to him being Agent McKenzie instead of Mac. “Is that a yes?”

“No. Yes. I haven’t taken pictures for a while. I did the other day. It felt good even though I’m sure to anyone else, those photos would look like a jumbled mess.”

“But you’re doing it for you, so that doesn’t matter.”

She tilted her head quizzically. “You’re right. I’m just hard on myself.” Her face grew serious. “I used to travel the world photographing important people and life-changing events. Now I’m lucky if I can get a shot of an inanimate object. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“You are many things, Natalie, but pathetic isn’t even anywhere close to the list.” The compliment surprised both of them. “So how do I breathe?”

She pressed her lips together. Under his gaze, her cheeks flushed.

He narrowed his eyes. What exactly was she thinking? About him? Them? Together and sweaty and naked? “You don’t want to tell me?”

She shook her head and smiled. “You breathe slow and steady. Enough but no more. Like you know you take up a lot of space and don’t want to take up more than your fair share. Like you always have something to prove. To make up for. Like other people need it more than you and you’d rather leave it for them.”

Mac jolted. He felt as if he’d been sucker punched. Standing, he moved to her side again, immediately aware of how he towered over her. How she had to look up at him. How small and fragile and feminine she was compared to him. “Who the hell are you?
What
are you?”

Her smile vanished. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I’m naturally intuitive, but you—you see things no one else does.”

“What did I see in you?”

Mac remained quiet. Then, because it was true, he said quietly, “Too much. I—I need a drink. How about you?” Before she could respond, he moved to the doorway and yelled, “Jase—!”

“I got a call. Be there in a sec,” Jase yelled back.

Mac stifled a curse. “I’ll go get—”

“Mac?”

He stiffened when he felt a light touch on his arm. Carefully he turned. How had she walked up and touched him without him even realizing she’d gotten up from the table? What the hell was wrong with him?

She stared up at him, the inner ring of her eyes a clear, pristine green, like the waters in the Bahamas where he’d fished for a month by himself before college. He’d always intended to visit again.

“I’m sorry if I said something to upset you, Mac.”

With her words, his gaze moved to her lips. They were full, the top lip crested with a button at its center that practically begged to be kissed if it weren’t for the cuts and swelling next to it, reminding him how close she’d come to serious injury. Possibly death. Reminding him why lifting a finger to her face to see if her skin was as soft as it looked wasn’t an option for him. God, he wanted to kiss her anyway.

Jase stepped into the hallway and walked toward them. Shaken, Mac stepped back as if she’d suddenly caught on fire.

Having read his mind about needing a drink, Jase handed Mac a cold can of pop. “Here.” He held out a second can. “I got you one, too, Ms. Jones. I thought the sugar might do you good.”

He met Jase’s gaze. Jase shook his head, silently telling him he hadn’t heard anything about Natalie’s friend.

“Thank you.” She held out her hand and Jase took it, gently wrapping her fingers around it. He guided her back to the table.

Mac had the almost irresistible urge to cut Jase’s hand off at the wrist. Holy fuck, he thought.
I have truly lost my mind.

She sat down, then carefully opened the soda can. Mac took a long swig of cola. All three of them jerked when Jase’s cell phone rang, but she was the only one who spilled soda on herself and the table in front of her.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed, color flooding her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Did I make a mess?”

“It’s okay, Natalie,” Mac soothed, immediately moving toward her.

“Sorry. I’ve got to get this call.” Jase took the call, his eyes on Mac. “Yes. Yes, sir, I hear you. I’ll have him call you in five.” He closed his cell. “DeMarco just got a break on the case he’s working on. The child abduction. Watch commander says he needs the whole team at headquarters. He wants you to call. Why don’t we bring Ms. Jones down to the local station so we can—”

Automatically, Natalie shook her head. “No. I don’t want to leave.”

“Natalie…” Mac began, understanding her need to hide her head in the sand, but knowing they shouldn’t leave her alone.

“I said no. You both go, but I’m staying here. I’ve had enough of…of…well, anyone else, right now. Thank you.”

Amazing. Despite her earlier willingness to accept police protection, she actually expected them to leave. He was certain the spilled soda, not to mention the electric current that had spread through them while they’d held hands, had something to do with that.

Sure enough, Natalie lifted the hem of her long skirt, flashing an enticing amount of thigh, and frantically tried to find the spilled soda on the tabletop.

He gave Jase a “hold on” gesture, and the other man nodded. “Natalie. Listen to me.”

She froze, looking confused, and that made him feel like shit. He rubbed his hand soothingly on her arm, but that just seemed to increase her agitation.