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Authors: Marilyn Campbell

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BOOK: Twisted Hunger
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As soon as he formed the question, he had an answer. A threat of this magnitude, out of the blue as it were, had to be a test—the final test, to be exact. If he failed, he lost everything. If he passed, his success was assured.

Patterson had easily accepted his claim that although he and Teddy were in Los Angeles for a luncheon with the Sierra Club on the day of Neuman’s murder, they drove back up to Sacramento afterward. But would Harris let it go at that? Or would he take it upon himself to look further? Had he let a potential witness slip away by accident? Or on purpose?

Was it a complete coincidence that the artist recalled the victim saying he was a teacher from out of town?

In his mind’s eye, he saw the detective at the banquet laughing with Miss Winters’ admirer from North Carolina, as though they were friends, yet Madigan had denied any relationship. Add to that the other questions he had about that man’s connection to his new aide, and the situation became even more curious. What was Madigan’s real motive for being here?

Something foul had contaminated his glorious plan. Though he could not yet see precisely what that was, he knew it had to be flushed out as soon as possible and his intuition told him Harris was an integral part of it.

And while he was in that area, he needed to take care of the other matter that had been pending. He knew it was no coincidence that he happened to walk into Miss Winters’ office just as she was writing down Brandon Ross’ address and phone number.

All things happened for a purpose.

 

 

 

Chapter 17

 

Although she was determined to be cool, calm and collected, Ellery’s heart fluttered when Luke knocked at her apartment door. She made a final mirror inspection and assured herself that she was doing the right thing. Her shoulder-length hair hung loose, softly framing her face, and her clingy black dress was short enough to incite a testosterone riot.

Once Luke was thoroughly distracted by thoughts of sex, she had no doubt she could trick him into revealing something that would alert her to whether he was a spy. And if she decided he was not, she could take advantage of his raging hormones to put out the fire he’d started in her. Then she could send him back to North Carolina without a second thought.

She picked up her purse and jacket, took a deep breath and opened the door. Her plan for a quick exit was canceled by the bouquet of wildflowers in his one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. She had to invite him in. “Hi.”

“I come bearing gifts,” he said with a grin and held the flowers out to her. “To show that I do know how a proper suitor should behave.”

As she accepted the flowers, he held up the wine bottle and stole a quick kiss. “But not too proper.”

She made a face at him and took the flowers to the kitchen before he could try for another kiss.

He closed the door and followed her. “We can open this now, it’s already chilled. Or save it for when we come back.”

Since her intention was to loosen him up, it made more sense to have a drink first. Besides, she might not want to be alone with him later. She read the label on the bottle. “Good guess. It’s one of my favorites.” She handed him the corkscrew, then got out two glasses.

“You think it was a guess?” he asked with a look of mock injury. “I would think by now you’d have figured out that I have a sixth sense when it comes to you.”

Or someone filled you in very thoroughly,
she thought, remembering how he knew exactly what buttons to push to trigger a response from her. She waited for him to remove the cork from the bottle before returning to the living room, but the way his expression changed when he looked at her again made her instinctively back away.

“Don’t be nervous,” he murmured, taking the glasses out of her hands and setting them on the counter. “I only wanted to say thank you,
nicely
.”

“For what?” Her gaze moved over and around him, purposely avoiding his eyes.

“For this,” he answered and combed his fingers into the sides of her hair and through to the ends. “For letting your hair down.”

“I… I didn’t want you to think I was challenging you to remove any more hairpins.”

“I also want to thank you for giving me another chance.” Again his fingers found their way into her hair, but this time they held her head still as his mouth closed in on hers. “You are so incredibly beautiful.” His hands trailed down her back and drew her into an easy embrace.

She felt his warm, fruity breath on her face and could no longer resist the urge to look into his eyes. The moment she gave in, the breathless, dizzy feeling that his nearness had caused before overwhelmed her again.

Anticipation.
Even before his lips pressed against hers, she gave herself up to the thrilling sensations he awakened in her.

The kiss was perfect. Light enough to be tender, yet deep enough to be sensual. It let her know that he wanted to possess her completely, yet she was free to fly away if she chose. He didn’t force his way into her mouth, but when she parted her lips in invitation, he accepted without hesitation. Her mouth was suddenly filled with the taste of cherries, which only made her hungry for more of him.

However, as he had before, he was the one to break the spell. Parting their mouths, yet remaining close, he whispered, “I promised a real date, and I mean to keep that promise, but I could use some help.”

The veil of passion lifted sufficiently for her to see his crooked smile and the twinkle in his eyes. “How… how do you do that?”

He kissed her forehead. “If you’re referring to what happens when we kiss, I was going to ask
you
that question. If you mean how did I stop, the answer is with superhuman effort. But I should warn you, I wouldn’t count on it happening a third time.”

Easing away from her, he picked up the bottle and glasses and nodded toward the living room. “Shall we?”

By the time they were seated on the sofa, Ellery’s mind was more or less back in her body. As he poured, she said, “Unlike you, I don’t seem to be blessed with any psychic abilities. I’m afraid you actually need to tell me where we’re going tonight so that I’ll know if I’m dressed appropriately.”

“It’s a surprise, and you couldn’t look more perfect. Let’s make a toast,” he said, holding up his glass. “Here’s to achieving our goals in life.”

She tapped her glass against his. “I’ll certainly toast to that.”

After they took a sip, he reminded her, “You never did get into your adult years the other night. What goals do you want to achieve?”

She decided it was safe to answer that. “One of these days, I hope to be a United States Congresswoman representing the State of California.”

“I can see how working for Jones might help with that. But why stop with Congress? Why not the Presidency?”

That brought a smile to her face. “Oh I thought you meant
immediate
goal. I’m not eligible to run for president for several more years.”

“But you could still be working toward it in the meantime. I can see you running the whole country. You’d probably do a better job than most of the men who have held the power.”

“You know, those could be fightin’ words in some parts of this country, mister.”

“I’m serious. Why wouldn’t you aim for the top? You could handle the job.”

She chuckled. “Of course I could handle the job. Getting elected is the tough part.”

“Things will be totally different a decade from now. By the time you’re ready to run, the country will be ready for you.”

“Don’t tell me, when you’re not teaching you do motivational speaking.”

“Naw, that was just one of my psychic flashes. But sometimes teaching and motivating aren’t that far apart.”

“What about you? I seem to remember asking you about how you like your work, but I don’t recall you giving me an enthusiastic answer. What goals would you like to achieve?”

He took another swallow of wine then topped off both their glasses. “First, I’d like to live long enough to see you in the White House.”

“Come on. I told you mine.”

“Maybe I’d like to be your campaign manager. I have no idea what the job entails, but it sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “If you don’t give me a serious answer, I’ll never tell you anything personal again.”

“Okay. For as long as I can remember, my only goal has been to live each day to its fullest, content that I’m in the best place I can be at the moment, with the courage to face my darkest fears.” He took another drink, as though to wash away a bad taste.

Rather than comment on his overuse of clichés, she said, “You don’t strike me as the type to have dark fears.” At least not the kind that she had. Was this another insight about her that he’d been told about?

His mouth turned up on one side. “My best friend once told me, only fools have no fear. In fact, I’m having to face one of my big ones right now.”

She sensed a set-up, but had to ask. “Which fear might that be?”

“The fear of commitment.” He held her gaze until she understood.

“I asked you not to say things like that to me. It makes me very uncomfortable.”

He feigned chagrin. “Sorry. That one slipped out. It won’t happen again.” His gaze dropped to her feet. “Do you have a pair of flat shoes or at least ones with lower heels? The comfortable kind?”

She glanced at her strappy, high-heeled sandals. Most men seemed to like the way they showed off her narrow feet and long legs. “I like these shoes with this dress. Oh no. I can’t believe my height bothers—”

“No! I think it’s great that I don’t have to bend down to kiss you. I was thinking of your comfort… for later.” Her expression grew more leery by the moment. “Just humor me on this. If you take a pair of flat shoes with you, you’ll thank me later.”

Her deductive skills kicked into high gear. She considered what activities would require a change of shoes. Both bowling and skating provided the necessary footwear and, since sneakers had not been suggested, she was probably safe in scratching most other sports. Thank God. Also, she gathered it was something she could do in the dress she had on.

He wasn’t wearing a tie, but he did have on a dress shirt and sports jacket, so it was also probably safe to assume that he wasn’t taking her to anything like a monster truck rally or naked mud wrestling. She wouldn’t put either choice past this man.

She finally concluded that he must be planning for them to take a long walk after a nice dinner and the change of shoes was his way of being thoughtful. Yes, that thought made her comfortable to do as he suggested. While she got a spare pair of shoes, he cleared away the wine and glasses.

On the way to wherever they were going, she realized that Luke had passed up a golden opportunity to ask questions about her job and the senator while they were discussing her political aspirations.

That seemed to imply that he was not with her to get inside information, but she did not want to jump to an innocent verdict too quickly. “I’ve been curious about something for several days now,” she said in a casual tone.

He took his eyes off the road for a second to smile at her. “What’s that?”

“After we had lunch the other day, and we ran into Senator Jones…” She noted the way his fingers automatically tightened around the steering wheel. “You did several things that I would like to hear an explanation for.”

“Shoot.” A muscle in his cheek twitched.

“First, there was something odd about the way you were looking at him, and I don’t think it was my imagination.”

He was quiet for a moment then his fingers relaxed. “It wasn’t your imagination. I know this sounds crazy, but he… reminds me of… a recurring nightmare I’ve had for some years. There’s something about his eyes. Like they’re hiding something weird about him… on the inside.” He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe his own words.

Ellery wasn’t sure how to respond.
Something weird
was awfully close to
something not quite right
. Did he use that expression because he’d been clued in about her mother, or did he too sense what Audrey had? For now, it was better to go on to the next question. “What about you telling him you didn’t know the detective? After I thought about it, I’m sure I remember seeing the two of you together at the reception, talking like old friends.”

BOOK: Twisted Hunger
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