Debra Cowan – Still the One (страница 7)

He swallowed hard, his gaze sliding over her before he could stop himself. Memories burst in his head like popping flashbulbs. The full curve of her breast peeking out from the deep-cut armhole of his jersey, the hem skimming the center of her smooth, bare thighs, the flush of shyness she’d never lost even though they’d been lovers for months.

That fast, he went hard. He could taste the sweet musk of her skin, smell his scent on her. His body quivered like a newly strung bow.

He sucked in a ragged breath, and his gaze went to hers. He saw the way her eyes darkened to purple, the pink that climbed her neck, the frantic tap of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. She remembered, too.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered forever.

Her reaction only hollowed his gut, sheared the edge off any control he thought he possessed. Involuntarily, he stepped toward her. For one hellacious, gut-twisting instant he wanted to drag her to him, kiss her and prove to both of them that there was nothing left.

As if coming out of a trance, Kit jerked into motion. She shoved the basket against the washer face and shut the door.

“Is that—”

“No.” She flashed a brilliant smile, so brilliant it cut him to the core. “Looks like yours. Not yours.”

Bull. He was tempted to call her on it, but he resisted.

Where would that get them? Why had he thought he could ignore the past? Kit was his past. And he was good and pissed over her slingshotting back into his life. Hell.

Rafe clenched his teeth against the razor-edged desire that slashed through him.

Remember, he ordered, trying to escape the grasping hands of memory, of want, pulling at him. Ruthlessly he dredged up the rejection he’d felt when Kit had refused his marriage proposal. When he’d said forever, he’d meant it; she hadn’t.

“What about friends? Tony’s friends?” he asked quickly, his voice rough, the words scraping his throat.

“Can you think of anyone who might let Tony and Liz stay with them? Anyone who might hide them or know where they’ve gone?”

“No,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “Maybe you can ask his parents—”

His cell phone jangled, and Rafe grabbed at it like a drowning man going for a rescue line. “Yeah,” he said, almost ashamed at the enormous relief that rolled through him.

It was Porter, and as the cop spoke, Rafe’s jaw clenched tighter. The ambivalence he’d tried to shake off seconds ago surged back. Displeasure merged with concern. And his protective instinct, always deeper and stronger with Kit, roared to irritating life.

“Thanks, Kent.” He disconnected, his hand curling over the phone. “We’d better get going if we want to make it back from Davis before midnight.”

She started, taking a step toward him. Her soft scent curled around him. “What? You want me to go? Hel-lo! Just two hours ago you flat out told me you didn’t want me along on this case.”

Rafe exhaled and turned to fully face her. “That was before I talked to my buddy at the OCPD.”

She frowned.

“He says the officer investigating Liz’s accident believed she wasn’t paying attention to her driving. That her accident wasn’t deliberate.”

“But—”

“I’ve dealt with this officer before, and I don’t trust his judgement,” Rafe said baldly. “Neither does Kent.”

“Are you saying you believe what Liz told me? That someone ran her off the road?”

“I’m saying…” He gentled his voice. “I don’t like the odds, Kit.”

“So Tony was right,” she murmured.

“Maybe. Kent said he also might have an idea about this Alexander person. And…”

“And what?” Anxiety pulled at her features.

He hated dumping all this on her at once, but she deserved to know what they might be up against. “I noticed a car behind me on the way over here. The same car, three different times.”

She shook her head. “What—”

“It’s possible you’re being tailed. I’ll know better when we leave here.”

“Tony was right about that, too?” She sagged against the wall, her features wan and suddenly ravaged by fatigue.

Compassion and protectiveness swept through him. His first impulse was to put an arm around her, but he stayed where he was, giving her time to absorb it.

She stood quietly for a few moments, her fingers thrusting repeatedly through her hair. Fear, uncertainty skipped across her features then resignation. She straightened, her voice shaky. “I guess we’d better get going.”

“You all right?”

“Yes.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Rafe couldn’t stop the hard squeeze in his chest.

Fighting the vortex of memories, the emotion sucking at him, he pivoted and walked out of the room. “On our way out of town, I’ll drop off these photos and have some copies made.”

He didn’t like the concern for her that chewed at him. He wanted space, needed it; instead he was spending the next three to four hours with her.

“Tomorrow I’ll take Tony’s computer to the office, see if my contact can salvage anything useful off there. I’ll also check out Tony’s current employer and his parole officer.”

She nodded and followed him into the hallway, still looking shell-shocked.

“Could you write down the name of anyone else who might’ve been implicated in the scam he pulled, anyone who testified against him?”

“Sure,” she said faintly.

His body humming with frustration and remembered passion, Rafe waited on the lawn while she locked the front door, then walked toward his car. She halted uncertainly at the edge of the driveway.

His gaze shot between her car and his. It would be dark soon, but he’d made the drive south between Oklahoma City and Davis many times. The Department of Public Safety was more tolerant of his night blindness than the United States Air Force had been. Besides, he needed something to occupy his hands and his mind. Needed a release for the energy seething inside him, needed to feel the raw power of the ’Vette beneath him. “We’ll take mine,” he said gruffly.

She moved to the passenger side and opened the door before he could. Once inside, she shut her door with a loud click.

Gripping his keys so tightly they bit into his palm, Rafe walked to the driver’s side. Maybe he didn’t need to take her to Davis. Maybe she’d be safe here. But could he risk it?

No. He slid behind the wheel and started the car, leashing the resentment churning inside him. He could tell himself he might feel the same caution for any client who was possibly being tailed by the mob, but this wasn’t just any client. This was Kit.

And as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deny that seeing his old jersey had hit him hard. Or why.

The connection he and Kit had shared had been deeper than any he’d ever had. An ember had ignited in the secret part of him only ever occupied by Kit. A part he’d thought erased by years and resentment.

Inches away from her, webbed by her faint scent and the torturous images that had seared his brain moments before, Rafe knew she still owned that tiny place inside him. He hated that little revelation, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that she might also be in danger. So much for avoiding his past.

Chapter 3

Arousal fired little points along her nerves. Rafe had nearly kissed her. Even now, hours later on the return trip to Oklahoma City from Davis, that thought hammered through Kit’s mind. With every pulsing sense in her, she wished he had.

Thank goodness he hadn’t.

Smoky midnight swirled around them. Phil Collins crooned on Rafe’s state-of-the-art car stereo. Kit ran a hand over the Corvette’s buttery soft tan leather seat, not surprised that Rafe drove such a speedster. He’d always said he had a need for speed. As they traveled north on I-35, leaving behind the south side of Oklahoma City, lights from the highway and roadside businesses flashed by in a blur. For the late hour, there was still a fair amount of traffic.

She glanced over her shoulder, as she had every couple of minutes since they’d lost the tail outside her neighborhood a few hours ago.

It wasn’t the dread of seeing another car following them that had her nerves feeling raw and exposed. It wasn’t the compact space and tight lines of the Corvette’s interior that made her feel…cornered. Or the fact that Rafe had barely spoken since they’d left Tony’s parents. It was the way Rafe’s body heat formed a wall against her arm, the way his dark, rich scent stroked her senses.

It was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about that split second in the hallway when memories had crashed over both of them, when naked hunger had tautened Rafe’s features.

Only he had ever looked at her that way. Other men had said they wanted her, but none of them had ever looked at her as if they had to have her. For that one heartbeat of time, she’d wanted to fall into his arms, call back what they’d shared. And that was dangerous.

She was no more willing to give up her independence now than she had been in college. At fourteen, she’d been handling responsibilities most women didn’t handle until they were twenty-one, and she wasn’t going to give that up. Couldn’t, really.

The truth was she’d never gotten close to any man, until Rafe. Or since Rafe, she thought ruefully, staring over her shoulder again.

Her gaze shifted to his chiseled profile then dropped to his mouth. During their trip to Davis and the visit with Tony’s parents, she’d managed to dodge thoughts of that near kiss. But now…