Species (24 page)

“Hell,” Press said, leaning over her shoulder to read, “Nurse Friendly likely pried it out of his wallet. He probably figured he’d straighten it out later.”

“No address or phone,” Laura said as she jotted down the name and credit-card number, “but I can get that from the laptop in the car.”

“I hope you realize that hospital information is confidential,” a female voice said harshly from the other side of the counter. “Releasing it without authorization can result in fines and imprisonment.”

Press had to bite the inside of his cheek when he saw Nurse M. Madbar standing with her hands on her hips and glowering at them both. He thought he’d make it, but the urge became too much. He made his eyes widen as far as they would go in a parody of innocence. “Of course. But we’re only going to use his credit-card number to redecorate our living room.”

The nurse’s jaw dropped.
“Excuse
me?”

“We’ll keep it all confidential, of course.” Laura’s voice was smooth and soothing as she stood and pressed a key that cleared Carey’s information off the screen. “My associate has a zany sense of humor, that’s all.” She gave Press a severe look as she returned the area behind the console to Nurse Madbar’s control.

“That wasn’t funny.” The young woman sniffed. “Any more than when that young woman walked out on Dr. Shah.” Without another word, she presented both Laura and Press with her stiffened back and began typing earnestly.

“Come on, hotshot. I can trace Carey’s whereabouts in the car. Let’s get out of here before you endear yourself to someone else around here.”

“Hey, they love me,” Press protested as he followed her back to the gray government sedan waiting in the lot. He opened the door for her and she slid in and typed her password into the computer, then did a network link to the system at Fitch’s headquarters. By the time Press climbed behind the wheel, Laura already had full information on Carey displayed on the computer screen.

“Here we are,” she said as he started the car. “It’s an address in the Palisades on Wildomar. Phone number, too.”

“We’re on the way,” Press said. “Try and get Carey on the phone. If he answers, tell him to get out of the house . . . and leave Sil behind. Then call Fitch and tell him where to meet us.”

“How long before we get there?” Laura asked as she began dialing on the cellular phone.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Press answered. “Maybe not before dark, but I live in Greenwich Village, New York, not the Palisades, remember? While you’re trying to call this guy, look in the glove box for a map.”

“Got it,” Laura said. “Damn, the guy’s got his answering machine turned on. Should I leave a message?”

“Sure,” Press said dryly. “Tell him he’s thinking about copulating with a monster from outer space.”

“Thanks, smartass,” Laura said as she disconnected the call, then dialed Fitch. “After that, I’ll ask him what color he thinks we should use for the living room.” Despite the light words, her eyes were wide and worried.

“I guess Carey’s on his own until we get there.”

“H
ow much farther?” Press demanded. The seat belts around both him and Laura locked into place as he barreled around another curve on Sunset Boulevard at full speed.

“Not too far,” Laura estimated as she scrutinized the map with a magnifying glass and penlight. “We’re at about 14500 now, and Wildomar’s past 15700. There’re at least a dozen streets in between—well, how about this!”

“What?”

“There’s a street coming up that’s actually named Carey.”

“Too bad the guy doesn’t live there instead,” Press ground out as he whipped the sedan around another curve. “He’d be a helluva lot closer to safety if he did.”

“W
hat’s next?” Press swung the car tightly to the left, following the yellow line so closely that a car going in the opposite direction blared its horn. “It can’t be much farther.”

The map jounced in Laura’s hands as the sedan hit a bump. “Left at the next street—that’s Wildomar. Carey’s home should be the third on the right.” She tossed the map over the seat back and let it fall to the floorboard, then grabbed for a handhold as the sedan fishtailed around the final turn.

“Finally!” In spite of the wild ride, Press braked quietly and made sure the car rolled to a silent stop in the driveway of John Carey’s house.

29

T
he water in the Jacuzzi was hot, much more so than Sil had expected. It felt wonderful—silky and sensual against her skin, like the touch of a lover who knew every inch of her. She’d left her clothes in a pile on the cedar deck, not caring if they got wet or ended up smelling like the fragrant wood. In fact, she didn’t care if she ever put them on again. The soft outside lights and the tiny bulbs twinkling in the tree branches ringing the patio were far enough away to let the single underwater light in the hot tub make her skin glow like soft cream.

Sil didn’t know what to make of John Carey. At a deeper level, she thought that had his mind-set been more like Robbie of Hollywood Hills, they would have mated by now. At another level, she
liked
that he was shy and unsure of himself. But she was starting to get impatient. She’d been here all day—how much longer would it take?

“Come and get in with me,” she purred. “The water is
very
nice.” She smiled invitingly.

Standing at the edge of the tub, a plush bathing towel wrapped around his waist, John still looked unsure of himself and when the telephone rang inside the house, she thought for a moment he’d go to answer it. Instead, he reluctantly pulled his towel free and tossed it on a nearby lounger. She was dismayed to see that underneath he wore a loose pair of royal-blue swim trunks. As he stepped into the Jacuzzi and lowered himself into the steaming water, Sil moved to his side and began tugging off his swim trunks.

“Hey!” John protested. “Wait a second—what are you doing?”

“You don’t need these,” Sil said sweetly.

Although he seemed less than overjoyed, John finally slipped them off. After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. She stayed very still for the moment, enjoying the soft feel of his lips against hers, the way his tongue just barely grazed her bottom lip. “You don’t say much,” he said huskily.

Sil smiled slightly and shrugged, a small motion she’d seen him make before when he didn’t seem to know the answer to a question that wasn’t very important. “You know I like you,” she said softly.

“I know,” he whispered.

His breath was warm in her ear, incredibly arousing. It was all she could do to keep from snatching him to her. “I don’t think it’s too soon for us to be together,” she managed in a silky voice. She dipped one hand under the water and searched until she found his knee. “Do you?”

“No,” he said hoarsely. “It’s not t-too soon.”

His fingers brushed one of her breasts once, then again. She strained toward him and kissed him harder, let her fingers find the velvety hair along his belly and travel down. His fumbling hand stopped her before she could go any farther. “Hey,” he said with a nervous snicker, “that’s a little
too
fast.”

“I want you to be inside me,” Sil said urgently. She stroked the side of his face but he didn’t reciprocate. Instead, he pulled even farther away from her in the water.

“I—I seem to have a problem.” John wouldn’t meet her eyes at all now.

“What do you mean?” she asked suspiciously. She tried to think of the things that could have gone wrong, but she was a novice at this. Was she not attractive enough? Perhaps he was thinking of someone else, anonymous competition like the girl at the ID that Sil had eliminated. Sil’s hand went to her hair; the ends were wet and plastered against her neck. Maybe that was making her unappealing. “Don’t you think I’m pretty?” she asked aloud.

“Of course I do,” he said in a placating tone that she wasn’t sure she liked. When she said nothing, he scooted back to her side on the bench and took her by the hand. His fingers rubbed hers, creating little waves of pleasure that expanded outward, creeping into her arms and spreading into her chest and belly. “We’ll get there, baby. But there’s no hurry, okay? Just relax. Take it easy and let things happen naturally.”

Sil nodded, even though she had no idea what he was saying or why he would want things between them to move more slowly. She reached to kiss him again, letting her tongue probe his lips and teeth. The clean, just-brushed taste of his mouth made her want him more, but he pulled back again. “You’re so passionate,” he said. “I really love that.”

He was saying all the right things, but his voice was too tense and his anxiety was contagious. When he drew back yet again, Sil watched him through half-closed eyelids but made no move to follow him. She wondered if he was expecting someone, maybe some other woman who shared this house with him, someone he had conveniently “forgotten” to mention. Jealousy flared, and on the heels of that, anger. He didn’t find her exciting because he had given too much of himself elsewhere and he wasn’t strong enough to couple with her, too. He had seemed so nice, caring and considerate, but she’d been wrong in thinking he was a suitable mate. Still, she wasn’t ready to give up; after all, she needed someone to father her child, not a lifelong companion.

She tried kissing him again. He returned her kiss as if he’d enjoyed it and she could sense his ardor increasing, smell the sexy scent of passion-induced perspiration beginning to layer his skin. Finally he was getting into it, losing himself in the physical sensations she was bringing out, and when she raised herself off the underwater bench and slid her legs around his lower body, he pulled her tight against his chest and moaned against her neck.

Panting, she tried to maneuver herself over him, but felt resistance once again. Frustration abruptly welled in her; what was the matter with this man? She started to say something to him about it, demand an answer, then a faint sound eased into her ears, something apart from their heavy breathing and the sounds of desire, faint but distinctly different from the muted gurgling of the Jacuzzi. Sil scowled savagely as she gazed over John’s shoulder in the direction of the house, trying to see more than the patio furniture and close-cropped hedges would allow. Unmoving against John, she tilted her head and strained to hear again. Had she really heard . . . ?

Yes. Footsteps, coming up the front pathway to the house.