And Able (24 page)

They were on time for dinner…just. Brett wore a suit and she wore the skirt outfit he’d bought her in Lincoln City. She was glad she had when she saw the chic dresses his mother and sister wore to the table. She felt that for a woman who had spent most of her life oblivious to fashion, she had become inordinately interested in clothes.

Strangely, it didn’t bother her.

It was a surprisingly enjoyable evening. And despite her assertion to the contrary, Claire found herself promising Brett’s mother and sister she would join them on a shopping trip to Savannah the day after the party.

Brett spent the evening treating her like she really was someone special to him, not just a woman he had the hots for and had convinced himself he had to marry. She tried not to get caught up in the fantasy, but by the time he came to her room late that night, she was lost to the feeling of being someone unique and important in another person’s life.

Her mom had needed her, but no one had ever made her feel central to their happiness like Brett did when they made love.

He held her afterward, their heated bodies close together, and brushed at tears she was getting used to dealing with. “What is it, sugar?”

“It’s just so beautiful when we make love.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But it’s not real. It’s an illusion,” she said to remind herself as much as him.

He rolled on top of her and slid into her body with an erection that should not have been possible yet. Then he leaned up on his arms. “What the hell isn’t real about this?”

“It’s just sex. It’s not love.”

“You love me.”

“But you don’t love me.”

“And you think that makes the passion between us something less than what it is?”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Don’t kid yourself. This is real. What we feel
 
together
 
is real. This…” He thrust into her. “
This
 
is no illusion.”

“But…”

“Damn it!” He thrust powerfully, sending shards of pleasure piercing through her. “Elena said she loved me, but she refused to leave her country even though she knew she was in grave danger. She died for a lost cause, but she refused to live for me. What we have is better than that kind of love. Can’t you see that? It’s honest and it’s reciprocal.”

As he increased the pace of his lovemaking, driving her to a passion-filled place that had little room for rational thinking, her mind latched on to one last thought. If he believed this was
 
better
 
than love, maybe that was because he did love her but didn’t want to use the word to describe what he felt.

Maybe he couldn’t stand the thought of breaking the promise he had made to his dead fiancée. Or maybe saying the words made him feel too vulnerable because the one woman he had admitted to loving had chosen duty over him, not the other way around.

Claire’s thoughts splintered as her pleasure spiraled, but this time when she climaxed, words spilled from her mouth, unplanned but not unwelcome. “I love you, Brett. I love you so much!”

“You are so beautiful. So perfect for me,” he husked, awe in his voice, and then he came, too. Afterward, he said nothing more, but he held her close until she slept.

When she woke, he was gone, but she couldn’t forget what he had said. Was it possible that Hamilton Brett Adams could love Claire Sharpe?

The prospect made her jittery with joy, but fear that she was setting herself up for an emotional calamity stopped her from dwelling too closely on the possibility.

She arrived downstairs for breakfast only to discover an unexpected group of visitors. Wolf, Lise, Nitro, and Josette were eating with the rest of Brett’s family when Claire entered the dining room.

Josette jumped up from the table to hug her. “Claire! It’s so good to see you. I heard you’ve had a very eventful couple of weeks.”

“That’s one way of putting it, but what are you two doing back? And here? I thought you were going to be gone for at least a few more days.”

“We couldn’t miss Ms. Adams’s birthday party,” Nitro said, and incredibly, Felicia nodded as if she had expected nothing less.

Over breakfast, Claire saw that she and Loren treated both Wolf and Nitro like members of the family and, by extension, their wives. No one seemed to find it odd to embrace two ex-mercenaries in the family bosom, but then Brett was ex-merc, too.

Still, Claire liked his family all the more for accepting his friends and by doing so, tacitly that aspect of his lifestyle as well. She couldn’t help wondering if Brett realized the significance of it, though.

After breakfast, he gathered his guests together in a room in the back of the house to discuss the case.

“Have you come up with any connections between the list in the kill book and the people who saw Lester that last month?” Nitro asked.

“Yes, but only superficial connections. Some visitors share last names with people in Arwan’s notes, both the kills and the ones who hired the jobs done, but it will take longer to find out if any of those superficial connections go deep enough for suspicion to be attached to them. We’re also looking to see if there are connections that are not so obvious, and, of course, that’s going to take longer, but we’ve got help.”

“Who?” Josette asked.

“Lester’s nephew. He came to the funeral and we met him,” Claire said.

“Can he be trusted?” Wolf asked.

“I ran a background check on him and he’s clean.” Brett handed a manila file folder to Wolf. “Whatever job he holds for the government is deep, but there are no red flags anywhere.”

“What does your gut say?”

Brett didn’t hesitate. “Never trust someone until they’ve proven themselves.”

“Exactly,” Nitro said with a firm nod which Josette emulated.

Claire gasped. “Then none of you can trust me because I’ve never proven myself.”

“On the contrary,” Brett said, “you could have sold Josie out to the media after the mercenary school was bombed, but you protected her instead. You were in enough trouble without watching out for Queenie, too, but as soon as you realized she was in danger, you insisted on helping her. You don’t have a lot of friends, but the ones you do have can count on you. You’re as loyal as they come, Claire.”

He seemed very satisfied by that knowledge.

Lise smiled, rubbing her pregnant tummy. “I usually reserve my research skills for my books, but if you point me the direction to look in, I can help search for connections between the two lists.”

Claire knew Lise was due in just a few weeks. She couldn’t believe the pregnant woman had come with Wolf to help in the investigation. “You people are amazing.”

And they proved just
 
how
 
amazing over the next few hours while they each did what they could to help with the investigation. They worked through lunch, although Wolf made Lise take a nap in the early afternoon.

She grumbled, but she looked tired and left with a smile after he gently rubbed her tummy and told her he thought Junior was sleepy.

When it came time to get ready for the party, they had established three possible connections that looked like real leads.

Josette offered to come to Claire’s room so they could get ready together. They had each showered and put on their dresses when there was a knock on the door. It was Eleanor, already perfectly put together, but with a large basket full of beauty paraphernalia dangling from one arm.

She smiled, her eyes dancing with anticipation. “I had an idea for Claire’s hair and thought I’d see if y’all were ready to go yet.”

The hair in question was still damp and Claire grimaced. “As you can see, not even close.”

“I love your natural curl, but it needs a little taming. I think if you put a little product in it and then let it dry naturally, you’d really like the results.”

“Product?”

“Curl enhancer, lightweight hair gel, and when it’s dry something that will make it shine without making it stiff.”

“You think my curl needs to be enhanced.” She didn’t mean to use a tone of voice that implied Brett’s sister was unhinged, but she couldn’t help herself.

Claire’s hair was curlier than Shirley Temple’s would have been after sticking her finger in a light socket.

“You want to enhance the actual curl, as opposed to the kinks and twists.”

“Oh.”

Eleanor lifted the basket. “Are you game?”

“Definitely.” Claire sat down on the edge of the bed and let the other woman apply whatever goop she wanted to her hair.

“Now we’ll let it dry while we’re doing makeup.”

Josette’s eyes lit up at that pronouncement and what followed was forty-five minutes of hysterical fun. Eleanor happily showed Josette three different ways to apply eye shadow. They settled on one that gave Josette’s eyes a slightly tilted, exotic look that both Eleanor and Claire pronounced perfect.

The former mercenary asked scads of questions about all the girlie-type products in Eleanor’s basket and insisted on trying a few of them out. After she was done, her usually straight, unstyled hair was swept up with a few curling wisps framing her face and she had finished her makeup with a dark lip gloss that complemented her strikingly made-up eyes.

When it came to doing Claire’s makeup, Eleanor said she wanted to go with the natural look. Claire wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but it sounded good to her. She was willing to believe she’d like it more than the extensive grooming she’d received for the wedding. And she was right.

When she went to look in the mirror, she was shocked at how feminine the halo of ringlet curls around her head looked. It was totally natural and yet
 
not
. Her curls were tamed, or at least looked like an actual hairstyle, and her brown eyes looked dark and intriguing, highlighted by the subtle shadows and liner on her lids.

“Wow,” she whispered.

Eleanor stepped behind her and grinned at her in the mirror. “My brother is going to drool so much, you’ll need to carry an extra handkerchief for him.”

Josette laughed. “I think you’re right.”

Eleanor turned to face her, still grinning. “Your husband will probably just pick you up and carry you back to your bedroom. I’ve seen how that man operates.”

Josette twirled in front of the mirror, her skirt floating around her highly toned legs. “He’ll have to catch me first and that’s not as easy as he likes to think it is.”

H
 
otwire’s breath seized in his chest as Claire walked into the ballroom. Josette was on one side of her and Eleanor the other, but both women faded to the outer edges of his vision as his entire being centered on the only woman he craved like an addiction. Man alive, she was beautiful.

He liked her hair…it looked more natural than at the wedding, and if she was wearing makeup, he couldn’t tell. He liked that. Claire didn’t need enhancement.

She was stunning all on her own.

Her body encased in the sexy number she’d worn to be in Josette’s wedding, her feet shod in the dangerously high stilettos, she walked slowly forward. Her hips rolled seductively because of the shoes, and while other men noticed, her attention was fixed solely on him.

And the look in her eyes made him want to sweep her into his arms and carry her back up that huge staircase. There was such tenderness there and approval for what
 
she
 
saw.

She had said she loved him and he was starting to believe that might be true.

His first reaction when she’d said the words was that she was confusing physical ecstasy with love. After all, if she loved him, wouldn’t she want to marry him?

But maybe she did. Maybe she really
 
was
 
just scared he was going to lose interest one day and walk away. Her parents had done a number on her for sure, but that was never going to happen. Every time they made love, he wanted her more, not less. And he didn’t just crave having his body buried in hers so deep neither of them could tell where the other one started and they left off.

He craved her affection, her attention and her presence. As he’d told her…it was better than love.

He felt a jab in his ribs and turned to glare at Wolf. “What the hell was
 
that
 
for?”

“Lise has asked you three times if you and Claire have plans to see each other after the investigation. I’m guessing the answer is yes.”

The smirk on Nitro’s face said he’d been speculating, too.

Hotwire shrugged. “You could say that. I asked her to marry me.”

It was the first time he’d seen his friends dumbfounded. Both men’s mouths dropped open and then snapped shut without a word being uttered.

“You did what?” Wolf demanded after a short silence, his arm wrapped possessively around his wife’s pregnant waistline.

Hotwire rolled his eyes. Like he’d stuttered the first time? He didn’t think so. “I asked her to marry me.”

“Boy, you are one fast worker,” Nitro said. “I distinctly remember you telling me that you and Claire were nothing more than friends.”

“I was wrong.”

Nitro did a double take. “You sure you aren’t sickening?”

“There’s nothing sick about my attraction to Claire.”

“Hell no, there isn’t…” He paused and grimaced. “Pardon the language, Lise. But, Hotwire, you admitting you were wrong is one for the record books.”

“Only for petty-minded people who keep track of that sort of thing.”

Wolf laughed, but Nitro just shook his head. By then the women had reached them and Hotwire forgot about his friends’ reaction to his news. Claire was standing right in front of him, her soft, silky skin in touching distance, the gentle fragrance that he recognized as only her, luring his senses.

“Hi,” she said, looking nervous.

“Hi, yourself.” He reached out and pulled her into him for a quick kiss. He couldn’t help himself, though he guessed he’d catch hell for it later from Mama. He spoke low, close to Claire’s ear, “You are so beautiful, you look good enough to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

She gasped and turned pink. “Brett!”

“It’s all right, sugar. Our friends understand.”

Her gaze skidded to Nitro and Josie, and his followed. Neither was paying Hotwire and Claire the least attention.

Josie’s hand was on her husband’s arm and his attention was focused one hundred percent on her. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

Hotwire recognized that tone as one he used often with Claire. It was the
 
I want to get you away from here and strip you naked
 
voice.

Josie preened, former hardened mercenary nowhere in evidence. “Thank you, Daniel. I don’t suppose you want to dance?” She turned to the others. “He taught me on our honeymoon.”

She sounded very proud of herself.

Nitro didn’t need any further urging, but took his wife onto the ballroom floor and pulled her into his arms without so much as an attempt to use a formal dance hold. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what kind of dancing that couple did best.

“What about you, Lise?” Wolf asked. “You feel like dancing?”

“Maybe once,” she said with a smile, but turned to look at Hotwire. “I really enjoyed talking to your parents. Your father has so many interesting stories.”

Wolf laughed. “You better watch out, or he’s going to end up in a book.”

Hotwire winked at Lise. “Don’t you worry, Lise darlin’. Daddy wouldn’t mind that at all.”

Wolf scowled at the
 
darlin’
 
and Lise said, “He looks so much like you. I felt like I knew him right away.”

“There isn’t much resemblance when we open our mouths,” Hotwire scoffed.

“You don’t think so? I’m not so sure. I caught myself feeling like I was talking to you several times.”

“I know what you mean,” Claire said, turning within the circle of his arms to face the other woman. “If there wasn’t the age difference, they could be mistaken for twins.”

Hotwire just shook his head.

Wolf tugged Lise out onto the dance floor before she could say anything else.

Hotwire pulled Claire back around to face him. Looking at her close up made him feel sucker punched again.

She wasn’t looking at him, though; her focus was on something across the room. His parents? “Do you want to go wish Mama a happy birthday?”

“No. Well, I mean…yes, but not right this second. I need to talk to you about something.” But her gaze was still on his parents across the room.

“You look exquisite tonight, Claire.”

That got her attention and she smiled at him, albeit distractedly. “I think we established that you liked me in this dress at Josette’s wedding.”

“Is that why you wore it? For me?”

“What do you think?” she asked in a breathy, warm voice that went straight to his groin.

“I think it’s going to kill me to stay at the party long enough not to offend Mama.”

Claire patted his chest in what he was sure she thought was a comforting manner, but all it did was turn him on further. “You’re strong enough to survive an assignment in a jungle infested with predators, both men and animals. You can handle a few hours of unrequited lust.”

“You sure about that?”

“Positive. And if you get exhausted from the effort, I believe I know just how to revive you.”

“You’re teasin’ me at your peril, woman.”

She laughed, the seductive sound an aphrodisiac of unequaled potency. Then she grew serious. “Listening to Lise made me remember something I believe could be important.”

“About Lester’s case?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“A couple of days before Lester died, Queenie and I were talking about him. She was worried his mind was slipping further into dementia, but I wasn’t sure I saw it. I mean, he definitely had his bouts of senility-driven dialogue, but that had been going on for a long time. Only something he had done very recently had really worried her.”

“What was it?”

“There was a group of politicians who came to Belmont Manor. They were on a committee charged with assessing the living and care options in Oregon for the elderly.”

“So?”

“Well, Lester pulled one of the men aside and started talking to him. He called him by the wrong name and really made a pill of himself, according to Queenie. One of the orderlies had to coax him back to his room. It was odd, because as a general rule, Lester refused to speak to people he didn’t know and a lot of people he did.”

“But he acted like he thought he knew this guy?”

“Yes. Which is what worried Queenie so much. She said the politician didn’t know Lester from Adam. Not only that, but even though the politician is only in his forties, Lester talked like the guy was one of his clients from his days as Arwan. Queenie was sure it meant that Lester was moving into total senility.”

“And you don’t?” It sounded like dementia to him.

“No. Think about it, Brett. If someone who had known your father as a younger man, but hadn’t seen him since, ran into you, they might mistake you for him at first. Our brain plays tricks on us like that and even though you are so much younger, their first reaction wouldn’t be to take that into account. Neither was Lester’s and because he
 
was
 
going senile, he was convinced he was speaking to a man he had met many years before.”

“So far, none of those politicians has any known links to any of Arwan’s hits.”

“No, but one of them shares the last name of a client Arwan turned down. It was in the late eighties and Lester had all but retired. I don’t know how the man contacted him, but Arwan refused the job.”

Hotwire said a word that his mother would have washed his mouth out for, remembering exactly what Claire was talking about. “You’re right. We dismissed the possible link as unlikely to generate a real suspect.”

“Because Arwan turned down the job.”

“But he kept a record of it being offered, and even if the politician didn’t know about the kill book, he saw Lester as a threat because Lester had remembered meeting the man’s father and was just senile enough to say something.”

Claire’s big brown eyes were filled with regret. “He signed his own death warrant when he unwittingly greeted a man from the past.”

“Most civs wouldn’t want the fact that their father had tried to hire a hit man to come out, but a politician would be doubly vulnerable. Heck, you were even worried about my sister being adversely impacted by your past.”

“Exactly. And what if his dad followed through with hiring the hit? Just because Arwan turned him down doesn’t mean that he gave up on the idea of getting rid of someone who was in his way. For all we know, he took care of the job himself.”

“There was a farmer standing in the way of land development in a small town in Eastern Oregon and the client wanted him disposed of,” Hotwire said, remembering what he’d read in the kill book.

“That town isn’t so small anymore and I bet that land development had a lot to do with it. The state representative probably built his political base on his father’s success revitalizing that area.”

“We’re doing a lot of speculating here.”

“It wouldn’t be hard to check any of this out.”

“No, it wouldn’t. But it will have to wait until after the party.” His family would never forgive him otherwise, and the politician wasn’t going anywhere. “Now, sugar, I want to dance.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Just hold on to me and sway to the music.”

“I can do that.”

And she did…beautifully. The feel of her in his arms paid hell on his good intentions, and it took all of his self-discipline to break away from her when the music moved into a slightly faster rhythm.

That didn’t stop him from dancing with her again and again throughout the festivities. He was either a glutton for punishment, or hopelessly addicted.