Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (211 page)

“How horrible.”

Tyler couldn’t agree more. He’d arrived on the scene himself before the boy had been body-bagged. Even now, the vision haunted him.

“My crew chief swore that railing had been properly attached.”

“Perhaps he was covering for his men’s carelessness. Or his own.”

“Someone was sure careless,” Tyler agreed. “City inspectors went over the place, found several other things wrong, as well, including an electrical circuit to the retail area that wasn’t grounded. I don’t understand. I only hire the best and these men have all worked for me before. It’s like I’m cursed or something.”

“Or perhaps some
one
…”

Keelin didn’t have to finish the thought. When he’d gotten the bad news, he had wondered himself if someone hadn’t been out to sabotage the project and give L&O Realty a bad name.

Or him?
he suddenly considered.

The renovation side of the business was his baby, after all, as Brock had reminded him.

Brock
.

Surely not. Surely a dissatisfied partner wouldn’t chance damaging the reputation of his own company, not when he wanted to split everything, taking both assets and current clients with him.

Arriving in the Wicker Park area, Tyler gathered his scattered thoughts and set his mind back on their present mission. Rather than wander about looking for the address that was not familiar to him, he stopped to ask directions. And before they even arrived at George’s apartment house, he figured they were on a wild goose chase.

“Wrong side of Damen,” he muttered, catching the steering wheel in a death grip. “The newsstand guy said Cheryl came from the opposite direction.”

“Perhaps she crossed Damen and circled around,” Keelin said, though she didn’t sound convinced. “That part of the vision is so shadowy, anything is possible.”

Tyler pulled up before a six flat with a front stoop and wondered if Keelin could be right.

Chapter Eight

GEORGE SMIALEK LUMBERED TO THE DOOR on unsteady bare feet, never expecting the high and mighty owner of L&O Realty to be on the other side. Him and that same little chippy he’d been dragging around lately.

“What’re you doing here?” he thundered, taking a swig of beer.

He’d been drinking a lot since Harry’s death. He’d even lost a good job over the booze. The boss had told him to come back when he meant to be sober. He weren’t going back though, George told himself. When this was over, he and Ida would disappear and he wouldn’t ever have to work again.

“We have some things to discuss,” Tyler Leighton said.

George snorted. “This ain’t your type of neighborhood. Unless you kin make lots of money on it,” he amended. “Thinking about buying the building and renovating it?”

“Who is it, George?” his wife called from the kitchen.

He held the son-of-a-bitch’s gaze as he yelled back, “The man responsible for our boy’s death.”

“Mr. Smialek, that’s not fair,” returned the woman in a lilting voice. “Nor truthful.”

He narrowed his gaze, thinking that in her floaty, flowery dress and little boots she wasn’t the rich man’s usual sort. “That building was his responsibility. Who’re you to say?”

“My name’s Keelin McKenna. Can we come inside for a moment? We’d like to talk to you.”

She was craning her neck, trying to get a good look around behind him. George all but closed the door with himself wedged in the opening.

“My lawyer says I ain’t supposed to talk to anyone connected to the realty company. You wanna settle some money on me, you talk to him.”

“We’re not here about the law suit,” Leighton said.

George’s hackles rose. “What do you want from me? You already took enough!”

“I’m sorry about your son.”

“So you say. Words won’t bring Harry back.”

Just as words wouldn’t bring Leighton’s daughter back to him, George thought, giving the rich man a once-over, searching for signs. A subtle tension radiated from him, and his eyes were haunted – George had seen that same look in his own mirror every day for weeks now, ever since they buried his boy. But the bastard seemed to be functioning like normal.

No creases on his expensive suit. No beard stubble. No tell-tale smell of alcohol.

George took another swig of his beer. Maybe the rules were different for the rich. Maybe they didn’t grieve the same way ordinary people did.

“I can understand your bitterness, Mr. Smialek, but –”

“Cut the crap, Leighton! With your fancy clothes, your fancy house, your fancy car…you don’t understand a damn thing about me!”

He got great satisfaction from slamming the door in the big man’s face.

“George?”

He turned to his wife, who lurked in the background, her expression worried as Leighton started pounding on the door behind him.

“Smialek, I want to talk to you!” came his muffled demand.

“Tough!” In a softer voice, he said, “Don’t worry your beautiful head, Ida, I got rid of ‘em.”

Her gaze shot to the door. “He’s going to cause us big trouble.”

“Let him try. He’ll be sorry.”

George kissed his wife, then drained the can of beer and stalked to the kitchen for another, ignoring the continued pounding behind…as well as the locked door between.

Leighton would be sorry, all right.

He’d get the bastard where it would hurt him most.

KEELIN FOLLOWED TYLER into the temporarily abandoned renovation site. He’d voiced the need to visit the building, as if it would somehow bring him answers about his daughter. Keelin had seen no reason to object.

As she gathered her long skirts to climb the open rear stairs, she thought about the boy who had died there. About the father who lost himself in drink to forget. And as they entered the interior with its sharp smell of new paint and varnish and the more subtle fragrance of cut wood, she tried to determine whether or not there was some connection between Harry Smialek’s death and Cheryl Leighton’s kidnapping.

“I don’t know,” she admitted a short while later, when they stood at a newly installed fourth floor window that opened an entire vista all the way to the city proper. “He was drinking ale like the man who kidnapped Cheryl…”

“Hard to pin a crime on a man over a fondness for beer.”

She nodded in agreement as she scanned the surrounding rooftops that lay below them. “If only he hadn’t closed the door on us before I could see inside, perhaps I could tell better.”

“What did you feel?” Tyler urged, “Take a shot at it.”

Keelin shook her head. “I can only say what I sensed through Cheryl in the dream,” she told him once again. “I don’t have the power to read peoples’ minds.”

“She’s so close…I can almost feel her.” His voice was raw with worry. “Out there somewhere…in one of those buildings we can see…sick with fear. A father should be able to keep his child from harm. I would give everything I own to have her safe beside me. Damn it!”

Tyler whipped away from the windows and slumped against the newly exposed brick wall, shoulders rounded in a gesture of defeat.

“No one has the power to keep another safe always,” Keelin assured him. “We can only do our best for those we care about.”

Light filtered through the glass, revealing bits of him. Just as he only revealed bits of himself at any given moment. But Keelin could see his unguarded expression. She needn’t have any special powers to recognize the grief of disappointment that he could no longer hide inside.

Her need to heal was greater than her hesitation at getting too close to a man whom she knew could hurt her at a very deep level.

Keelin stepped into Tyler’s personal space and placed a quieting hand over his heart, as if she could mute its thunder, could absorb some of his pain unto herself. She would take all gladly if she could. His warmth captured her even as his fingers closed around her wrist and tightened like a vise, threatening to keep her fast until he willed otherwise.

Her pulse quickened and her breath caught in her throat.

Then he stared down at her, and she could see that his pale eyes were shiny with unshed tears. He was hanging onto her lest he break. Unable to help herself, she reached up with her free hand and threaded her fingers through his thick hair.

Stroking him.

Soothing him.

Feeling her own insides tremble from the force passing between them.

For a moment, they stood frozen, staring at one another as if seeing each other for the very first time. The moment was magical. A turning point from which they could not retreat. Keelin felt this in her very soul.

Tyler groaned. “I need…”

“What is it you need, Tyler Leighton?” she whispered.

His brow furrowed as if he were fighting with himself. “It’s not…right…not when Cheryl…” He voiced the objection so low she could hardly hear.

“Tell me,” she urged.

He gave it up with a sigh. “You, Keelin McKenna. I need
you
.”

The invitation too great to resist, Keelin stood on tiptoe and softly brushed her mouth across his, the light contact searing her lips. Breath quickening, he drew back, his expression self-accusatory. And though she’d protested the ability to read minds, she sensed he was thinking he should be concentrating on Cheryl. She also sensed the truth of his words that he needed her…or at least the comfort she offered.

KEELIN WONDERED IF IT HAD BEEN LIKE THIS between Moira and Seamus…this dance between anger and tenderness…doubt and faith…antipathy and yearning.

She had never before experienced such a whirlwind of conflicting feelings about any man. Fondness at best. Irritation at worst. Certainly not these seething emotions that made her feel alive in every thread of her being.

Emotions that threatened to overcome her.

She wanted to be overcome, Keelin realized…like Juliet had been by Romeo…Guinevere by Launcelot…Heloïse by Abelard.

Like Moira surely had been by Seamus.

Dreams are not always tangible things, but more often are born in the heart.

Her grandmother’s legacy stood before her.

They had nothing in common, not even a country. They might not be together next week, or even tomorrow. But they could be together now. She’d waited all her life for this, and she refused to let the chance at love, no matter how brief, slip away because of doubts.

“If you need me,” Keelin said, her voice trembling. “Then know you have me.”

Tyler fisted her hair and drew her head back as if to see the truth of her words. Her breath caught in her throat and she wondered how life could be so confused. How two people so far apart could want to be so close. And then his mouth covered hers and he drew any doubts from her. His tongue filled her as she wanted to be filled in a more tender and aching space.

Her chest rose and fell against his, their heartbeats seeming to match the same too-quick rhythm. He slid his hand down along her neck and captured the fluttery beat through the fullness of her breast. Groaning, he stroked her tenderly, his mouth never leaving hers.

Her breasts tightened and her nipples hardened even before he traced their outline through the cloth. Heat seared her and her head went light. She clung to him desperately, her arms winding around his neck, fearing that she might fall if she let go.

Breaking the kiss with an audible groan, Tyler held her cradled against his chest, both hands winding around her back, pulling her closer. It seemed as if they couldn’t be close enough for him.

Keelin tucked her head in the space between his jaw and shoulder, let one hand drift down his throat. His pulse thudded against her fingers and when her palm flattened against his chest, her palm captured the uneven beat of his heart. She knew he wanted as well as needed her, just as she did him.

But the time was not right. Not when emotions at another disappointment over his daughter were running so high.

Content to wait, Keelin gave him what she could and hoped that, for the moment, the comfort of her closeness and caring would be enough to see him through the terrible hour.

FOR THE SECOND TIME IN HIS LIFE, Tyler felt emotionally snared. The first time, Helen had nearly destroyed him. Money had presented a half-assed solution. He’d never really resolved her betrayal, and he’d vowed never to get so close to another woman that he left himself exposed.

Now he’d gone and done it again.

Not that Keelin was anything like his ex-wife.

He cared about Keelin McKenna, Tyler realized in amazement. A woman he’d only known for a few days. How had it happened? How had things changed so quickly?

He slid a look over at her.

Head resting against the car seat, she seemed to be asleep, her face in repose. A dapple of sunlight played over her features, and he found himself memorizing them. He wondered that he’d ever categorized her looks as ordinary when they were in fact uniquely lovely.

But her looks were not in question here, Tyler reminded himself. Any future between them was. Once they found Cheryl and Keelin completed her family business, she would be heading home to Ireland, he was certain. He would lose her as quickly as he’d found her.

A hard truth to swallow. How many losses could one man endure?

His daughter’s innocent face haunting him, Tyler turned his attention back to the busy street. He should be concentrating on Cheryl, not on his own needs. He couldn’t fail her. Not again.

Realizing they were nearing his office, he regretted that he hadn’t insisted on taking Keelin to her hotel. He was finding it harder and harder to focus on what he had to with her so near him. A flash of her remembered sweetness stirred his insides, and he shifted in the driver’s seat.

From the first, he’d experienced a restlessness around Keelin that went deeper than the physical and at times threatened to consume him. Somehow, he’d convinced himself this was the result of his combined distress and animosity and suspicion. He’d really believed Keelin either had something to do with his daughter’s kidnapping, or that she was trying to take advantage of his grief.

Now he knew different.

And almost wished he didn’t.

SHE COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. Surely they didn’t mean to leave her here like this forever.