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  And then there were no more words.

  Jess wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but Kyle’s brand of lovemaking came as a complete shock, and a pleasurable one. At first he seemed to be battling for control, his tongue dueling with hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her, subduing her into submission. He twisted his body around, and she found herself atop the naughty red comforter, with him on top.

  Just when his overpowering passion began to both thrill and frighten her, he backed off, returning to the teasing kisses and sensual massage he’d started with. He tenderly removed the rest of her clothes, caressing her limbs with velvety touches that soaked into her body like a hot bath, all the way to her core.

  She felt overwhelmed—not by him, but by her own responses. She was drowning in desire, almost mindless, and he’d hardly started. Her earthier feelings for him, building over the past few weeks, were pushing to get free like storm tides against a weakening dam. She wanted to let go, but her fear of the unknown kept her alert, fighting for control, even as her body arched against his hand like a wanton cat’s.

  He removed his own clothes with a lithe grace and total unconcern for himself. In fact, his gaze never left her. His confidence awed her, and she shivered.

  Apparently he thought she was cold, because he whipped back the comforter and silently urged her to slip into the red satin cocoon, which she did willingly. She wasn’t accustomed to having her nude form studied so thoroughly, and though it was exciting, it was also unnerving.

  One step at a time. She’d always been conservative when it came to sex; she couldn’t turn brazen overnight.

  Or could she? After Kyle slid between the cool sheets beside her, his simple nearness had her questioning everything she thought she knew about herself, her body, her sexuality. He stroked her not as if he were seeking selfgratification, but as a man bent on learning and absorbing everything about her. The effect was both awe-inspiring and evocative. Her body arched against his hand wherever it touched, and she couldn’t help the sounds that came from her throat, soft mewling noises that were half pleasure, half crazed anticipation.

  He followed his caresses with his mouth, leaving soft, lingering kisses in places she’d never imagined being kissed before. His beard gently abraded her skin, adding to the bombardment of sensations that threatened to overload her brain until steam came out of her ears.

  At last he returned to her mouth, joining with her there again in a kiss that stole away not only her breath but her soul as well. For those few minutes, at least, he possessed her. She knew it, and she suspected he did, too. This was a man who never did anything halfway.

  He covered her body with his, but he seemed in no hurry to complete the act. He gave her the opportunity to accustom herself to his weight, his ever-present warmth, the feel of his body hair against her skin. All the while he continued to kiss her, never breaking contact except once or twice so that they could both inhale great gulps of air, only to resume their frenzied coupling.

  She wanted this man inside her as she’d never wanted anything in her life. In his arms, everything else faded away. She forgot, for a little while, her upcoming trial, the charges against her, the horrifying possibility of incarceration. For this little while she was free, and she was deliriously happy.

  When he finally entered her in one velvet-smooth stroke, she raised her hips to meet him, joyously laughing at the same time.

  He smiled, then, an expression of pure bliss that made her heart flutter as if it was trying to escape from her rib cage. When she’d first met him, she hadn’t thought he was particularly handsome. Now she thought he was the most beautiful man in the world.

  He moved inside her with infinite slowness, patience. Of course, he wouldn’t rush anything. She was fully aware of his presence inside her, his length, the incredible depth he reached, and she felt every inch of the contact to her deepest core. She could feel him in the tips of her fingers and the roots of her hair...and in her heart, which ached with a fullness that was new to her.

  Just when she was thinking he was a man who wouldn’t lose control, he did. His strokes grew faster, more frenzied, and she moved with him like some crazed flamenco dancer trying to keep up with an ever-increasing tempo.

  It was all too much for her. She let go completely, giving herself up to fate and God and whatever else was out there controlling her. The sensations washed over her now, like the wind at the top of a mountain. She heard her voice, and his, but she couldn’t make out what either of them was saying.

  She knew the exact moment that he found his release from the maelstrom they shared, and somehow or other she became one with his ecstasy until it seemed they’d become part of the same climax.

  Which was patently ridiculous, she thought as she gradually became aware of her back against the satin sheets, her hair draped over her face, the harsh breathing of the man who held her, still embedded within her. She was afraid to trust the experience her mind had told her was real. Ordinary human beings didn’t have that kind of cosmic trip just by having sex...did they?

  She nearly cried when he finally pulled away from her, signaling the official ending of the consummation. There would never be another first time for them. There might not be another time for them at all, period.

  She prepared herself for the awkward postcoital murmurings of two people who had just shared the ultimate intimacy but had no future. There would be no false declarations of feeling, just a jarring transition back to the real world.

  But Kyle’s wry eloquence surprised her.

  “You’re a lovely woman, Jess. And somewhere out there is the perfect man for you. I can’t imagine why he hasn’t found you. He must be looking. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”

  But I’ve already met him, an inner voice suddenly informed her. And as a wealth of feelings welled up inside her, she realized she’d done it again. She’d fallen for a man who was all wrong for her. Only this time it was different. Her feelings for Phil and for Terry had been nothing but immature schoolgirl infatuations that had crumbled upon close scrutiny. This was real.

  And it was doomed.

  Maybe she was lucky Kyle didn’t return her feelings, that he had no intention of remaining with her once this stakeout succeeded or was abandoned. She’d admitted to herself all along that Kyle was too much man for her. She would be swallowed whole if they tried to make a go of a relationship.

  She mustn’t let him know how she felt, she decided. She wouldn’t give him even a clue, because if he found out he would feel wretched and awkward, and the rest of their brief time together would be ruined.

  “I don’t think the right man for me exists,” she said with total honesty.

  “He has to. They say everyone has a soulmate. But I’ll tell you one thing. No mild-mannered Milquetoast would do for you. You’d turn him to ashes the first time he kissed you. You need a strong man, Jess, to match your strength. Anything less, and you’d be bored to tears.”

  “A strong man, huh? Like you, maybe? Is that what you’re suggesting?” She’d spoken in a way that he was sure to understand was teasing. Yet she held her breath as she waited for his answer.

  He rose up in bed. “Listen. The rain’s stopped. Time to get back to work.” He threw the covers off, but she halted him before he could get out of bed.

  “My shift, remember? I’ll wake you in four hours.”

  Just like that, they went from passionate lovers to cool business associates. Jess managed to hold on to some semblance of dignity until she’d pulled on her clothes and headed out the door. But as she sat in the recliner positioned by the patio door and gazed through the binoculars at the floodlit house across the lake, she sobbed quietly.

  Why had she done it? Why had she let herself taste heaven when she knew it could never be hers?

  Chapter 14

  Kyle couldn’t sleep. He blamed himself for what had just happened between himself and Jess. She was the one who’d come into his bedroom, and only a strong man could have t
urned his back on her tentative invitation. He was a strong man, wasn’t he?

  He’d given her fair warning that he wasn’t going to fall in love with her, that this wasn’t a prelude to some lifetime thing between them. But hell, he could rationalize this thing seven ways to Sunday and he still felt slimy about it.

  Deliciously satisfied, but definitely slimy. As if he’d taken advantage of her.

  That was ridiculous. She was an adult, an experienced woman. She knew what she was doing. But she’d seemed so naively trusting, his conscience argued. In this day and age, what was wrong with two consenting adults, everything out in the open, sharing a little ecstasy? It had all felt completely right at the time. Perfect, in fact. Then why the guilt now?

  For starters, how about the fact that you just made love with a murder suspect? Until he’d crossed that line, he’d been able to vigorously defend, in his own mind at least, his justification for having a special interest in Jess’s case. He’d been seeking truth and justice and all that crap.

  Now he was starting to wonder. Was he really that committed to justice? Or had his hormones led him astray? Was he grasping at straws Jess handed him, hoping to put them together into her innocence? Or was he no smarter than his former partner, who’d let his love for his wife blind him to the fact that she was a dangerous crack addict?

  That was what it all boiled down to. As smart as he and Buck had both thought they were, they’d been taken in by Melissa, by her victim mentality and her pleas for understanding and leniency. Between them they’d thought they knew more than the system, that they could help Melissa straighten up without involving official authorities.

  God, how wrong they’d been. Buck, because he’d loved his wife, the woman she used to be, anyway. And Kyle because he’d loved his partner and hadn’t wanted to betray his trust.

  How different was his current situation? Yeah, he was feeling something for Jess, something strong. Did that make her a good, innocent person? Did that excuse the career-risking moves he’d made in the past few days?

  He’d have liked to think he couldn’t possibly love a murderer. But that’s what Buck had thought.

  All he knew was that he’d better tread carefully. He needed to stay alert and think clearly, and that meant keeping his distance from Jess Robinson.

  He ordered himself to go to sleep. Rest was essential. Amazingly, it worked. The next time he awakened, it was to find Jess gently shaking his shoulder.

  “Mmm, what time is it?” he asked.

  “Almost five,” she said. “I took a couple of extra hours. I wasn’t sleepy, and I figured you could use the rest.”

  He sat up and stretched, suddenly aware of the woman standing so close to him in the darkness. He caught the barest whiff of her scent, musky and womanly and still somehow fresh as a spring day. It made him want to reach for her.

  She stood very still, perhaps sensing his urge, waiting for it, maybe even wanting it.

  He resisted. He had to keep his reason for being here firmly in mind, and that reason wasn’t to tumble Jess every time she came too close to him. Aside from all the other very sensible reasons he’d come up with to keep his distance, he also realized that it was wrong to take advantage of her emotional vulnerability. She was frightened for her fate, and for some reason she found that being close to him offered her a feeling of security, no matter how brief.

  He was misleading her by letting her wallow in that security. He wasn’t her safety net, or her champion.

  That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway.

  “Any action?” he asked her.

  “Nothing. Well, maybe something. I thought I saw a light go on in the house. Then I couldn’t see it anymore, and I convinced myself it was a trick of the wind and the mist and the trees moving around, causing weird shadows.”

  “Could very well be,” Kyle said cautiously, although his hopes spiked at the possibility. He was becoming more and more convinced someone—maybe Terry—was holed up in that house, taking extraordinary precautions not to be detected. It was more than a hunch.

  Wasn’t it?

  “I’m going in the other room to sleep. Four hours and I’ll be good to go again.”

  He looked at her then. Although she was barely visible in the ambient light coming through the window, he could see the lines of exhaustion on her face.

  “I’m feeling great,” he lied. “Sleep as long as you like. I have a feeling it’s going to get even more tedious before this is through.”

  She nodded and all but stumbled out of the room. A few moments later Kyle heard a door close down the hall. Silly, but he’d relished the thought of her sleeping in this bed, even without him.

  He resumed watch. Morning dawned, the floodlight went off, and things looked pretty much as they had the previous day—cold, gray, windy and no activity at the Gilpatricks’ house.

  Jess didn’t appear again until almost noon, when she crept sheepishly down the stairs, her hair wet, and carrying with her a lovely, soapy, floral scent. She was wearing fresh clothes—black jeans and a bulky, cable-knit sweater. Her feet were bare, and for some reason that bit of vulnerability made him want to bundle her up by the fire again, the way he had last night.

  “I grabbed a shower,” she confessed. “You should have woken me up earlier.”

  “Why? I’m doing fine. I got a good chunk of sleep last night.” Enough to keep him going, anyway. But Jess’s pristine condition reminded him of just how grungy he was. “If you’re ready to take up the vigil, I’ll grab a shower of my own and then fix us some breakfast.” He wondered how he could sound so normal, like nothing earth-shattering had happened between them last night.

  Jess seemed to welcome the normalcy, because she smiled, though a bit awkwardly. She came closer. “I’m ready. Anything going on?”

  “Just some squirrels chasing each other. Neighbors on either side of the Gilpatricks’ got in their cars and went somewhere.”

  “So the neighbors are around. Maybe we should go talk to them.”

  “I thought of that.” He got up from the recliner and handed her the binoculars. “But I’m really worried about alerting out quarry that we’re on to him before we can tighten the noose around his neck. He might slip away again.”

  Jess nodded and flopped down into the recliner. Soon her eyes were trained out the patio door, and it appeared she wasn’t interested in continuing the chitchat.

  Kyle showered, shaved, stared at himself in the mirror and gave himself a stern lecture about professional detachment. He went downstairs, whipped up some coffee and instant oatmeal and brought Jess some of each. She thanked him politely, and he said, “You’re welcome,” with a similar degree of impersonal civility.

  And he felt like screaming. Why, he wasn’t sure. Wasn’t this the way he wanted it? Jess wasn’t clinging to him, making demands, displaying any uncomfortable expectations. Their lovemaking apparently had been nothing more than a release for her. She’d never claimed it was anything else.

  So why did he suddenly find himself wishing she felt differently? The male ego was a perverse thing, he decided.

  They spent the rest of the day in a companionable routine, swapping places every couple of hours. While one was watching out the glass, the other would read or watch TV or catch a catnap. It would have been downright pleasant, Kyle thought, if not for the tension between them. Having sex hadn’t dissipated that for very long.

  Kyle had brought along plenty of groceries, and for dinner Jess decided to cook—really cook. “Spaghetti? Broccoli? Carrots? Olive oil?” she called to him as she inventoried the cabinets and refrigerator. “You must have been intending some real meals in addition to the TV dinners.”

  “Not really. I intended to dump bottled sauce over the spaghetti and chop the vegetables up into salad. The olive oil isn’t even mine. Some previous tenant must’ve left it.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll make good use of it.”

  For the next few minutes, sounds of comforting domestic
ity drifted from the kitchen. Jess hummed as she worked, and Kyle liked the sound of her voice. He was glad she could lose herself in the meal preparations, at least for a little while.

  After a few minutes, he got up to get himself a beer from the refrigerator. What the heck. He hadn’t even touched the six-pack he’d brought with him. When he entered the kitchen, he saw Jess wielding a big, shiny knife with such expertise and precision that, for a moment, he was hypnotized by the way the lights glinted off the stainless steel as her hand moved rhythmically, reducing a big carrot to dozens of paper-thin slices.

  She looked up. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Ah...nothing.” He tried to recover. “Nothing,” he repeated unconvincingly.

  Then she looked down at the knife in her hand, and understanding dawned. “Oh, Kyle.”

  “I just didn’t realize you were such a practiced...”

  “Knife wielder?”

  “I was going to say ‘cook.’” He reached for the refrigerator door, intending to get his beer and get out of there. All right, so the picture of Jess holding a butcher knife had caught him off guard. He’d tried to visualize it so many times, tried and failed. Now here she was, in the flesh, proving beyond any doubt she knew how to make a good, sharp knife sing.

  She slammed the knife down on the cutting board. “Maybe you’d like to cut up the vegetables?”

  “Of course not, Jess.”

  “Then stop staring at me like I’m Jack the Ripper. You of all people.” Tears clogged her voice. “I thought you believed in me. I thought you trusted me.”

  “I do. Would I have brought you into my house, or into this house, if I didn’t? Wouldn’t I have at least hidden the butcher knives?” He walked toward her as he spoke, holding her gaze. When he reached her, he picked up the knife and pressed the handle into her right hand. He had to physically wrap her fingers around it before she would willingly hold it. Then he brought their clasped hands up between them until the blade rested against his neck. ,