You're Still the One (3 page)

              Frustration hardened her voice. "How did you get in this line of work, anyway? It's got nothing to do with flying jets."

              His face closed. "Long story."

              One he plainly wasn't going to tell
her.
Swallowing against a sharpness in her throat, she said,"Fine."

              He tapped a finger on the desk, his gaze scouring her face. "No more talk about the past."

              "Fine." She knew
that
was for the best, but the old would inside her cracked open.

              He irritated her, but even so, he was the one man she regretted walking away from. The one man who could reach places in her no one else ever could.

              She couldn't ignore the knot in her belly that was part anger, part anticipation. Not affected by him? Who was she kidding?

              She wanted him to reassure her, tell her he'd find Grace quickly, that she would be able to handle all this. But she squared her shoulders against the maverick wish. She needed Rick to find her sister. That was all.

              She couldn't let herself start needing him for anything else.

              The sun sank to the horizon in a smear of gold and purple, edging the clouds with shimmering light. As Rick drove north on May Avenue behind Katie's car, following her from her brother-in-law's apartment to her house, he rolled his shoulders against an edginess that worked through him, made him feel cornered. What he wanted right now was distance, but he'd needed Katie's access to Tommy Harrington's apartment and her house.

              She hadn't been shy about letting him know she didn't appreciate the way he did business. Even now, his blood charged at the thought. That sassy, sharp-tongued woman was not the Katie he'd known. No, sir. And he liked this new Katie. Which was why it would be better for
him
. He needed to stay on this side of the past. Letting her tag along on this case would make that difficult, if not impossible.

              He didn't like the idea of spending a lot of time with her. Hell, any time with her. Rick's lips twisted.

              The scent of fresh-cut grass and car exhaust drifted through the window of his '67 Stingray. Golden light shimmered across the Corvette's sleek black hood. He was making a big deal out of nothing. It was the shock of seeing her - his first love - after all these years, that was all. Plus the fact that he didn't like working with anymore, especially the client who'd hired him. But with Katie there was another layer.

              Calling in to report once or twice a day he could handle. Breathing the same air, smelling her provocative scent, having her in his space - no, thanks.

              He rubbed his chest against the ache that had settled there upon first seeing her. The focus, the action of working the case would enable him to treat her like any other client. Eventually.

              So far, so good. They hadn't discussed the old days while Rick had searched Tommy's place for scraps of paper, plane or bus ticket stubs, anything that might give a clue as to where Harrington had gone.

              On the assumption that Harrington really was being watched by the mob as he'd told Katie, Rick had swept the guy's place for bugs and surveillance equipment. And found nothing. As a precaution, he needed to sweep Katie's place, too. If he didn't find anything there, he'd be free to start working the case.
Alone.

              As he swung his 'Vette behind her late-model four-door compact in the drive of a small brick house, his stomach clenched. He'd never seen Katie's home, never known she lived in this popular older neighbourhood. After college, she'd gone to work for a major airline in Tulsa. How long had she been in Oklahoma City? Longer than the three years since his own return?

              Those questions had nothing to do with her supposedly missing sister. Rick pushed them aside as he got out of the car, grabbing his device for detecting transmitters and his cell phone. Sergeant Kyle Walker, a buddy from the Oklahoma City Police Department, had promised to call Rick back after reviewing the report of the traffic accident that had send Grace to the Hospital. Walker had also said he would see what he could find out about any do-wrongs named Henderson.

              Rick followed Katie up the neatly swept concrete porch steps, flanked by terra-cotta pots brimming with yellow and white petunias. There were no memories for him here, nothing to distract him from the case.

              Except the woman whose hips swayed so compellingly as she moved across the porch.

              From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of silver. He turned in time to see the tail end of a sedan across the intersection at the end of the block. It looked like the same car he'd seen a few minutes ago on May Avenue, right before Katie had turned into her neigborhood. Which could mean that they lived nearby. Or that someone was tailing her.

              The little pinch in his gut told Rick it was the latter, but he'd check again for the car before he left to speak to Harrington's parents. He turned his attention to her home as she opened the front door and stepped inside.

              He put a finger to his lips, then walked in, motioning for her to stay in the entry hall as he activated his bug detector. The late-model CPM-7307 had been modified by a buddy to also pick up the presence of hidden cameras. In addition to locating commonly used transmitters, the tool allowed Rick to test AC outlets and phone lines. The small metal box, no wider than his wallet, included an output so he could listen for any phone modifications such as resistors or infinity bugs, anything placed on the wire itself.

              Katie shook her head, wearing the same expression of amazement and disbelief she'd worn when he performed a search at her brother-in-law's apartment.

              Rick bit back a grin. Making a quick sweep, he moved through the living room, peripherally aware of the honey-colored walls and ivory woodwork, the bold punctuation of color around the room. One wall of built-in bookcases boasted two shelves devoted to titles regarding functional family relationships.
Interesting.

              The scent of Katie's light perfume trailed him, but he kept his focus narrowed. He found no bugs or cameras in the kitchen, no bugs in the phones or outlets there or in the living room. Moving down the short hallway off the foyer, he checked two bedrooms and the bath, then the ceiling fan in the living room and one in Katie's bedroom. He felt along the undersides of her fluffy, distinctly feminine bed, keeping a firm lock on his imagination.

              He returned to the front part of the house to test the phone. The dial tones hummed normally, and he removed the earpiece, snapped off his machine and tucked the device into his back pocket of his jeans.

              "All clear." He turned to where she still stood in the doorway. Red-gold sunlight pooled around her legs and shimmered through the light fabric of her dress, outlining her slender calves.

              "This thing only scans one room at a time, but it's thorough. One tone sounds for bugs, another for video equipment."

              She gave a short laugh and closed the door. "Where did you learn to do that?"

              "I've picked up some things."

              A shadow passed through her eyes and she nodded tightly, wrapping her arms around her waist.

              "Think you'll find anything on that computer?" She referred to the desktop unit Rick had confiscated from Tommy's along with some disks.

              "If there's anything to be found on it. I've got a guy who's a whiz with that stuff."

              "I hope so," she said doubtfully. At his raised eyebrows, she explained, "Tommy's a computer genius. If he wants to hide or erase anything, he can probably do it."

              As she moved from the wood floor of the foyer into the carpeted living area, Rick was careful to stay in the center of the room. When she flipped on an overhead light, he took a closer look at the living room and the visible part of the kitchen. The soft neutrality of the walls, woodwork and carpet was offset by jewel tones of ruby, emerald and sapphire in pillows, candles, an area rug beneath the dark pecan oval coffee table and frames scattered on the walls.

              Katie watched him intently. So still, so quiet. Waiting. Awareness prickled his skin. As his gaze scanned the living room, he tuned in the soft snick of the undulating ceiling fan, the faint barking of a dog down the street. Something was off. Something --

             
Pictures.
The realization hit him like a one-two punch. Rick stepped closer to the wall, his gaze narrowing on the framed photograph there.

              It was of Katie and her sister, brunette heads together, laughing. The distant sound of Katie's laughter filled his mind, and he shoved away the phantom sound, his gaze skimming the wall.

              More pictures. Some of Katie and Grace. One of Katie with her father.

              One of Grace and a nice-looking man. Tommy?

              Katie walked over and removed the photograph from the wall. "This is Tommy, just before he went to prison."

              Rick nodded, taking the picture, studying the man's intelligent pale gray eyes, the shaggy, medium brown hair. Though Rick tried to concentrate on the image in front of him, his thoughts skipped back. In college, Katie had never wanted her picture taken. She's been almost fanatical about that. Rick had come to learn that was due to her innate shyness.

              The only photograph Rick had never had of him and Katie had been taken at his fraternity's spring formal. His mother probably still had it in his box of college stuff in the attic. Judging from the amount of pictures in this room, Katie seemed to  have gotten over her aversion, he thought ruefully. Such a small thing, but not for her.

              The Katie he'd known then, he reminded himself forcefully. Dragging his attention to the face of Tommy Harrington, he struggled to bring to life something besides regret and a resentment that should have cooled long ago.

              Katie walked to the mantel and took down another framed photograph. "This one of Tommy was just taken about a week ago. He sent it to Grace."

              Rick nodded, careful not to touch her as he took the frame. Harrington had cut his hair, almost a buzz cut. He'd grown a mustache and wore glasses. "I'll want to make some copies of this."

              "Sure. Let me take it out of the frame." Her fingers brushed his as she took the picture.

              Casually, he turned away, squelching the jolt of electricity that jumped up his arm.

              "Tommy had some pictures of Grace. When we checked his place earlier, I noticed they weren't on his refrigerator, where she told me he usually kept them."

              Could've been a smart move by Harrington to keep Henderson from getting a good look at Grace. Or it could've just been Harrington's way of disappearing.

              The photo Rick had requested appeared over his shoulder, sans frame, and he took it, too conscious of the way Katie's breath tickled his neck. His gaze scanned the entertainment center, the collection of CDs that ranged from the Eagles to Elvis Presley. Before it could fully form, Rick aborted the reminded of his and Katie's mutual pleasure in Elvis's "Can Help Falling in Love."

              More pictures lined the curved-leg table behind the sofa, and Rick moved toward it. This case was all that mattered. There was a picture of Katie and her sister. Another of Katie in a pale pink satin gown that hugged every curve, bared her gorgeous shoulders. She stood next to Grace, who wore an ivory tea-length wedding gown, her hand on the tuxedo-clad arm of a man whose face was cropped off. Their father? Tommy or another groom? Katie's lover?

              That last thought ambushed him, and before he could stop, Rick wondered how many men Katie had seen since their college days. Had she ever come close to marriage or had she pulled them all away before they could get too close? Was she involved with someone?

              Rick knew he should leave those questions alone, but there was one he had to ask. "Are you seeing anyone now?"

              She blinked. "What?"

              "Dating anyone?"

              A frown snapped her dark brows together. "I thought we weren't going to talk about anything except this case."

              "That's the reason I'm asking." Even while his chest tightened in anticipation of her answer, he managed to sound detached. "I need to speak with anyone who's had recent contact with your sister. They might know something without being aware of it."

              "Or they might have something to do with her disappearance?"

              "Right."

              "I'm not seeing anyone." she said stiffly, avoiding his eyes. "Haven't for... a while."

              He nodded, silently cursing the bubble of pleasure that bloomed inside him. "I'd like to take a closer look at Grace's room."

              "This way." She walked past him and down the hall.

              His gaze slid down the slender line of her back to the taut curve of her butt, the lean line of her thighs. Rick's gaze lingered on the soft magnolia flesh of her neck.