Wicked Obsessions (8 page)

So far, Teri hadn't been able to keep herself from offering her advice whenever he worked in her studio. Each time she did, she apologized for interfering and he assured her he appreciated her help. When he didn't push her any further about the police visit, she was the appreciative one.

On the climb back up to her studio, Teri replayed her conversation with the police officer. Maybe she should have told him about Rico's gambling. But that only brought her back to the potentially dangerous role of accuser. Was she willing to go through mug shots looking for the man who had threatened her? She realized her fearful reaction to the idea was probably what that animal had counted on when he'd confidently issued his veiled warnings in front of witnesses.

Damn!
How could Rico have involved her in something so awful? It now seemed entirely possible to her that Rico had blown the money and was hiding out somewhere. In fact, he would probably be calling any minute, begging for her help. The mere thought of his daring to ask her for more money riled her so much, most of her fears fled from her mind.

Drew gave a soft whistle when he saw the nearly completed painting on Teri's easel. "You are one talented lady, ma'am."

Teri smiled her thanks for the compliment as she donned her painter's smock. That Texas drawl of his was enough to dispel the last of her fears. She was suddenly very glad she hadn't had his phone number to stop him from coming today. "I almost called you this morning but I don't have your number. It didn't come up on my caller ID. Are you still staying at Ann's?"

He was busy spreading out the contents of his shopping bag on the table as he answered. "Oh. I thought you had my cell number." He wrote it down for her. "As to staying with Ann... as of yesterday afternoon, I moved into a place in Tarrytown. It's just a furnished efficiency, but it's all I need at the moment. It was wonderful of Ann to let me stay, but I was really ready for a space of my own."

"Still, you're lucky to have her."

"Don't I know it. She says she has a weakness for lonely cowboys."

Teri chuckled. "Her and a few million other women." When he turned his head back to her and raised one dark eyebrow, she quickly added, "It's one of the so-called feminine fantasies, which is why historical western romances have always been so popular."

Turning the rest of his body toward her with his hands fisted on his hips, he gave her his full attention. "You mean women find something romantic about cleaning stables and listening to cattle moan all night?"

She laughed at his disbelieving expression. "More like they imagine riding off into the sunset on a big, black stallion across the wide-open prairie, with a barely civilized but
immensely
capable man." Her mind flashed an image of Drew as that cowboy with her cradled in front of him, between his spread thighs. She laughed again, this time at her overactive imagination, and started preparing her paints. "You should try reading one."

Drew wasn't ready to abandon such a fascinating subject. He rolled a stool up next to hers and perched on it with one boot heel hooked on the upper rung. "Tell me more about these feminine fantasies."

She thought he was teasing her, but his brown eyes were bright with sincere interest. "You really want to know?"

"Sounds like the kind of inside information that could come in mighty helpful." Then, with a wink, he tacked on, "In my new line of work, that is. Marketing to the female psyche is a big part of an advertising photo."

Teri groaned as she realized he
was
teasing a little, but she didn't feel threatened by him. It had been so long since she'd relaxed around a man that she couldn't remember how to counter innocent innuendo. She opted for a serious answer to his reasonable request. "Mind you, the only reason I know this is because of an article I read. Besides the cowboy, there's the Cinderella/Prince Charming fantasy and the captor/captive angle, where the heroine is more or less forced to do what she wanted to do anyway, but couldn't for one reason or another."

"That one sounds twisted."

Teri pursed her mouth thoughtfully. "It's probably best not to try to figure out what women fantasize about."

Drew leaned forward, crossing his arms over his bent denim-covered knee. "And what about you, Teri? What's
your
fantasy?"

His deep voice had softened, making Teri think of black velvet brushing against her bare skin. Her common sense told her not to answer, to get to work, to send him back to his side of the room. Her rebellious emotions demanded she answer and extend the luxury of his freely offered attention a little longer. "I... I don't know," she hedged with a shrug. His finger stroked her cheek and it felt cool against her warm flesh.

"Why, I do believe you're blushin', ma'am. C'mon, tell the lonely, barely civilized cowboy which kind of fantasy makes you want to ride off into the sunset with a man."

She laughed at him. "Why don't you get to work,
cowboy
?"

"Cain't. Once my curiosity's aroused, it's like an itch that needs scratchin'. But I'll make you a fair trade. You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

The twinkle in his eyes was contagious and Teri found the nerve to tease him back. "All right. My fantasy is to be on an island where there are no men at all. That way, I might get some work done!"

Drew's hand covered his heart. "You wound me deeply. But I can take a hint." He rose from the stool, then lowered his head so that his departing words tickled her ear. " 'Course, now you'll be wonderin' all day just what
my
fantasy is."

As he sauntered back to his paraphernalia, she rolled her eyes and shook her head, but let him have the last word. A few minutes later, when the tint she was blending looked about right, she realized she was still smiling. What kind of existence did she have, that smiling had become a noteworthy event? Why, the last time she'd had a good laugh was—

Her brush froze in midstroke. It wasn't that long ago. Only about a week. When she and Selena were joking about...
about how to get Rico out of her life permanently
.

Chapter 5

Teri daubed her brush carefully on the canvas, creating a slightly raised area within a purplish cloud. Her moment of levity was over. Rico was back, at least in her head. With Rico, she had never been able to tease and walk away. He was the kind of man who only touched or cuddled as a prelude to sex, and never ever afterward. Now that she thought about it, the only time he even talked nicely to her was as a form of foreplay. Drew talked to her. Today he even teased her and encouraged her to play, without making her feel obligated to perform a personal service for him in return.

Like a rancher's dinner bell, the reason clanged in her brain. His little act had fooled her completely, at least at that moment. Each time she had seen him before, he was kind and extremely polite, but there was nothing playful about him. If anything, she had noticed a sadness that overcame his expression when he was certain no one was watching. The teasing male routine, with those not-so-subtle yet utterly safe innuendos, was all for her benefit. Rather than badger her to explain about the police officer or pretend he wasn't interested, he distracted her from her worries.

She could not think of a single time when Rico had behaved so intuitively. In their relationship it had always been her responsibility to keep her antennae tuned to his needs if she wanted peace.

Peace...
was such a state ever going to be hers again? She had thought getting a divorce was going to bring enough additional anxiety into her life. What was she going to do if Rico really had disappeared? One thing for sure, she couldn't file for divorce. When she had made that offhand comment to Selena, she hadn't imagined it actually happening or the problems his "getting out of her life" could create.

With a sigh, she set down her brush, wiped her hands, and walked over to the table where Drew was arranging some items on a swatch of ivory satin. When he turned to her, she held out her hand.

He accepted it, but raised a questioning brow.

"Thank you," Teri said with a poor attempt at a smile. When he grinned back, she knew she had guessed right.

"Shucks. Tweren't nothin', ma'am."

Her smile grew. "Stop that. You had me going there for a minute."

He enclosed her small hand between both of his and squeezed gently. "I'll keep up the witty cowboy repartee if you'll keep smilin' for me... unless you'd rather talk about what's causin' those unsightly worry lines across your forehead."

She wanted to laugh it off, but he was looking at her with such tenderness that she choked up instead. She turned, but his hands held her in place.

"Easy," he murmured, tugging her back.

Her lower lip quivered, then her eyes filled with moisture.
Oh, God, no... not now.
But the Almighty must have decided against saving her pride. Teri burst into tears.

Drew released her hands so that he could wrap his arms around her. He held her close as she sobbed against his chest. When her crying lessened to an occasional ragged breath, he stroked her back and hair and rocked her slowly from side to side as if she were a small child.

Teri had never felt such comfort at the hands of a man, and it took all her willpower to give it up so quickly. But the sharp reminder that she barely knew Drew gave her the strength to pull away.

"I am
so
sorry," she said, swiping at her cheeks with her fingers. "I guess it's been building up for so long now, and after this morning..." He released her and went over to her work station for a tissue. After she'd dried her face and blown her nose, her eyes widened at the huge wet spot on his shirt. Lifting the hem of her smock, she rubbed it frantically against his chest.

"Whoa," he said with a laugh and stilled her hand. "I'm okay. It's drip dry. But now you definitely owe me an explanation."

She frowned as he led her back to her stool and again sat next to her. She wondered if it was really written somewhere that if you let someone see you cry, you had to explain yourself. He didn't insist. Somehow, she knew he never would. And for that reason she told him why the police officer had come to see her.

He listened to what she said and guessed at what she kept to herself. "Did you tell him about the hood who threatened you?" When her eyes flew open in surprise, he knew that answer, too. "Teri, I was here. Remember? Pretending it didn't happen doesn't make it so. That guy promised violence because of something your husband owed someone. And I haven't forgotten that five o'clock today was the deadline for payback."

Taking a deep breath, she decided she needed advice, and Drew seemed willing and able to offer it. She told him about her husband's gambling and the cash she gave him for what was supposed to have been the last payoff.

"Are you certain he made it?" Drew asked, voicing her own doubts. When she shook her head no, he grabbed her hand and pulled her upright. "C'mon. Let's go."

Confusion caused her to dig in her heels. "Where?"

"The police, of course."

"But—"

"Teri, even from what little you just told me, it seems pretty obvious that foul play could be involved. Or worse, he could have taken off leaving you at the mercy of the bad guys. You might need protection."

She freed her hand to unbutton and remove her smock. "But couldn't there be some other explanation?"

"Sure. It doesn't sound like your marriage was going smoothly. Maybe he ran off with someone else, in the middle of a work day, without his car."

"No. That sounds crazy. Besides, he promised me an uncontested divorce in exchange for the money. He was the one that hadn't wanted to end our marriage."

"You had already asked for a divorce?" he asked with surprise.

"Yes, and he signed a settlement agreement so I could file it as uncontested, but—"

"No more buts." His look was one of total exasperation as he tugged on her hand and she pulled back again.

"Wait! What if these 'nasties', as Rico called them, come after me because I've accused them of something?"

Drew gripped her shoulders and gave her a small shake. "You have no choice. They may be coming after you anyway... at five-oh-one today. Now let's go."

* * *

Detective William F. Kidder tilted his head to the left so that his good right ear had a better chance of picking up everything being said by the woman across the desk. It didn't really bother him that his once flat stomach now protruded over his belt or that what little hair he had was snow white. His hearing was the defect the department was using to force him out of the job that was more important to him than life itself. True, he had never worked in the big city, but even in White Plains he had solved more than his share of homicides in the past thirty years.