Every Move She Makes (3 page)

Whenever a family evening ended badly, Ella knew that it was her job to console her mother, while it was her father’s job—when he was in town—to help Uncle Jeff Henry control Cybil. How was it possible, Ella wondered for the millionth time, that two sisters whose physical appearances were almost identical could have personalities that were poles apart?

She lifted her hand and knocked. Viola opened the door, her expression void of any emotion.

“She’s been waiting for you,” Viola said. “I’ve changed her into her gown and helped her into bed. I don’t know why she puts up with it. Family or no family—”

“Why don’t you go on to bed, Viola? I’ll stay with Mother until Daddy returns.”

Her mother’s nurse huffed. “Very well, Miss Ella. But if you need me—”

“I’ll call you if I need you.”

Viola plodded over to Carolyn’s bed, fluffed the pillows around her, and asked if she needed anything. Ella watched how caring and attentive the nurse was, and once again she chastised herself for disliking the woman. Viola Mull looked like Mrs. Potato Head, with thin legs and a rotund body. She kept her gray hair cut in a short, straight bob that made her head look as round as her figure.

“Ella, darling, is that you?” Carolyn’s voice contained just a hint of weakness, as if she was exceedingly weary.

“Yes, Mother.”

“Come sit with me.” Carolyn patted the bed. “Talk to me until your father comes home.”

Wearing pale-yellow satin pajamas, Carolyn sat perched in the middle of the massive, canopied mahogany four-poster with white lace trailing down the posts and pooling on the hardwood floor beneath. Pristine white sheets edged with lace perfectly matched the white down coverlet that lay folded at the foot of the bed. White pillows, stacked three deep, rested behind Carolyn’s thin body.

“Let my hair down for me and brush it, would you?” Carolyn smiled at Ella. Ever since she’d been a child, Ella would do anything to be rewarded with one of her mother’s smiles. She had spent a lifetime trying to please Carolyn, hoping that in some small way she could repay this lovely woman for having adopted her and giving her a family and a life that others could only dream of having.

Ella went into the adjoining all-white bathroom and gathered up her mother’s silver brush and comb along with the matching hand mirror. When she sat down on the side of the bed, she laid the items in her lap, then scooted up in the bed so that she sat beside Carolyn. Brushing her mother’s hair had become a ceremony over the years, and to this day she loved the feeling of closeness this simple act generated between them. One at a time, Ella loosened the pins that held Carolyn’s hair in the loose bun. When she removed the last pin, her mother’s shimmery black hair fell down her back, stopping just inches above her waist. Only a few strands of gray glistened when the lamplight struck Carolyn just right.

Ella began brushing, slowly, carefully, making sure she didn’t pull too hard and cause Carolyn any discomfort. As she had so many times before, Ella marveled at her mother’s beauty: alabaster skin, silky black hair, and striking silver-gray eyes. How often had Ella wished this woman were her biological mother? If she were, then maybe Ella would be prettier. Even though people often mentioned that she actually resembled both her parents, Ella found it hard to believe that she looked anything like the stunning Carolyn. She did have the same color hair, but there the resemblance ended. Carolyn was thin and petite, classically beautiful, and feminine in an old-fashioned, ladylike way.

Ella sighed as she continued brushing her mother’s hair. When she finished the task—one hundred strokes—she held up the mirror so that Carolyn could inspect herself.

“Lovely, darling. Thank you.” Carolyn leaned over and kissed Ella’s cheek. “You’re such a good daughter. I’m going to miss having you here with me when you and Dan get married.”

Ella tensed. She’d been dreading this conversation. As a child her parents had chosen her playmates, and as a teenager they often had picked her dates. She was well aware of the fact that Dan Gilmore’s parents were part of the old-money set in Spring Creek—people whose ancestors had been a part of this town since before the War Between the States. Carolyn had telephoned Dan’s mother shortly after Dan’s divorce had become final last year and insisted on getting their
children
together.

“Mother…I…I don’t think Dan and I will be getting married.”

“Has that young rascal not even hinted about marriage?”

“He’s hinted, but…I don’t love Dan.”

Carolyn lifted her eyebrows and rounded her mouth as she sighed. “I see. And is there someone else?”

“No, there’s no one else.”

“Dan is quite a catch, you know. If you let him get away, some other lucky girl will be wearing his ring by this time next year. His mother has told me that he wants to get married again. His son needs a mother, and a man in his position needs a suitable wife.”

“And I’m suitable?”

“Of course you are.” Carolyn laughed softly. “You have all the right credentials. You’re bright and charming and very successful. And you’re Webb Porter’s daughter—and my only child.”

Never once had her mother ever told her that she was pretty. She knew she wasn’t, but didn’t mothers lie to their little girls and tell even the ugliest duckling that she was the fairest of them all? Carolyn had told her she was smart, clever, charming, loyal, devoted, and even sweet, but never pretty.

“I don’t want to marry a man just because he finds me suitable.”

Carolyn took Ella’s hands in hers and rested them in her lap atop the spotless white sheets. “People marry for many different reasons. I’m sure Dan loves you. Why wouldn’t he? But Ella, my dear child, you’re already thirty and you’ve never been exactly popular with men. It’s not as if there’s some white knight out there waiting to sweep you off your feet.”

“Daddy swept you off your feet, didn’t he?”

Carolyn’s smile wavered ever so slightly. “Yes, of course he did. But love like Webb’s and mine doesn’t happen for everyone. What we share is very rare. Naturally, I wish you could find someone like your father, but—”

“But girls like me don’t end up with hunks like Daddy, do they?”

“Eleanor Grace Porter! What a thing to say.” Carolyn couldn’t keep the stern look on her face and soon burst into soft giggles. “Webb is a hunk, isn’t he?”

Ella hugged her mother. “Yes, he is.”

“What are my two girls giggling about?” Webb stood in the doorway, a wide smile on his face.

“Let’s not tell him,” Carolyn said. “The man’s ego is already the size of Texas.”

“Girl talk,” Ella said. “Nothing that concerns you.”

Ella kissed her mother, retrieved the silver items from atop the coverlet, and placed them on the bedside table. She paused as she approached her father.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her out into the hall. “Good night, princess.”

Ella kissed his cheek. “Is Aunt Cybil all right?”

His smile vanished. “Cybil is her own worst enemy. She’s miserable and she tries to make everyone around her miserable.”

“I think it would be terribly sad to be married to someone who was in love with someone else.”

Webb tapped her affectionately on the nose. “You’re too smart for your own good, young lady. You always were.”

“Mother wants me to marry Dan.”

“And what do you want?”

“I want the kind of love you and Mother have—real love.”

“If you want real love, then don’t marry Dan Gilmore.”

“Do you mean that, Daddy? Even if—”

He laid his index finger over her lips. “You wait for the real thing. For that can’t-wait-to-see-him, can’t-live-without-him, want-to-be-with-him-forever kind of love.”

Ella hugged Webb fiercely. “I love you, Daddy.”

“And I love you, princess.”

Reed Conway was back in Spring Creek. Paroled today. The bad boy had returned and was sure to stir up trouble. Big trouble. He was the type who’d be damned and determined to prove his innocence. That couldn’t happen—not now; not ever. There had to be a way to put him back where he belonged—behind bars—before he asked too many questions. Before he dug too deep. If he didn’t live up to the conditions of his parole, if he committed a crime, even some minor infraction of the law, he could be sent back to Donaldson.
Think. Think. How can I see to it that Reed makes a fatal mistake? Something serious enough to revoke his parole. He can’t be allowed to stay in Spring Creek long enough to unearth any long-buried secrets
.

She had told him her name was Ivy Sims. She’d been divorced twice and was presently between boyfriends. Her only kid, a fifteen-year-old boy, lived with her first husband in Mobile. She was too friendly, too chatty, and very obviously interested in more than sharing a drink at Desperado’s. She’d been skimming her red, claw-like fingernails up and down his arm for the past five minutes, and a couple of times she had none too subtly eyed his crotch. He’d had a hard-on since the minute he got a whiff of her cheap perfume—something she’d probably bought at the Dollar Store. If he had his pick of women, Ivy wouldn’t be his number-one choice. She was probably a good ten years older than he was, and every year showed on her darkly tanned face. The deep age lines of a lifetime smoker edged the corners of her mouth and eyes. And although she had nice, big breasts, she had no hips and a flat ass. But right now, Ivy looked damned good. Like a delicious, greasy hamburger would look to a starving man. She wasn’t prime rib, but horse meat would do if a man was hungry enough. And Reed was hungry. Hell, he was famished.

“Briley Joe told me you just got out of the pen. Is that right, honey?” Ivy’s full, red lips widened in a sensual smile.

“That’s right. Just got out today.” Reed lifted his bottle and downed the last drops of his fourth beer.

“You sure do look good for a man who’s been behind bars.” She wrapped her hand around the hard, bulging biceps of his right arm. “You must have spent a lot of time in the prison gym.”

“I take it that you don’t care that I’ve been in Donaldson for the past fifteen years, convicted of murder.”

“Who’d you kill? Or are you one of those guys who was innocent and did time for a crime you didn’t commit?” She chuckled teasingly.

“Yeah, that’s me, all right, an innocent man. They sent me away because a jury said I slit my stepfather’s throat.”

“I had a stepfather,” she said. “Mean son of a bitch. I thought about slitting his throat a time or two, but my old lady divorced him before I ever worked up the courage.”

“Want another drink?” he asked.

“I think I’ve had enough for now. Want to dance?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He eased off the bar stool, then helped her to her feet and slid his arm around her waist.

When they reached the crowded dance floor, she turned into his embrace and plastered her body against his. His sex tightened painfully. Ivy’s little outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. Her short skirt showed off a pair of long, skinny legs, and her cropped top hugged her boobs and exposed her midriff. She was pressed so snugly against him that he could barely breath. They moved awkwardly together, their bodies’ rhythms slower than the shit-kicking music the live band played.

Ivy nuzzled the side of his neck, then whispered in his ear, “Just how horny are you, honey? Your prick feels like it’s made out of iron.”

“Horny enough to fuck you for a week and still be hard as a rock,” he admitted.

She laughed, the sound grating oddly on his nerves. It was a throaty, rough laugh—a vulgar laugh coming from a vulgar woman. Ivy Sims was exactly what he needed tonight. He slid his hand between them and covered one breast. Her nipple jutted into his palm. He kneaded the round, soft flesh covered by nothing but her stretchy black top.

“My apartment isn’t far from here,” she told him. “We can be there in ten minutes.”

“What are we waiting for?”

She grabbed his hand and led him off the dance floor and through the horde of hell-raisers and fun-seekers that frequented Desperado’s. Reed caught a glimpse of Briley Joe sitting at a table with a cute little brunette. His cousin grinned and nodded. In high school, he and Briley Joe had shared the details of their sexual escapades, each always trying to out-boast the other.

The warm, humid night air hit him the minute they went outside. He took a deep, sobering breath. He wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t completely sober either. He hadn’t had a beer in fifteen years, and four in a row had given him a slight buzz. Reed draped his arm around Ivy’s hips, then lowered his hand to clutch the right cheek of her butt. She giggled again. By the way she reacted to his pawing, he figured she was almost as eager to get laid as he was.

“Here’s my car.” She rummaged inside the tiny shoulder bag she carried and pulled out a key chain. “You want to drive?”

“Naw, you drive.” He caressed her butt. “I’d rather concentrate on other things.”

She unlocked the car, pulled out of his arms, and shoved him inside and onto the front seat. She raced around the hood and got in on the driver’s side. “You keep your hands to yourself while I’m driving,” she told him. “We don’t want to wind up in a ditch instead of my big old comfortable bed, now do we?”

“I’ll keep my hands off you, but it won’t be easy.” He needed a woman so badly right now that he would gladly screw a three-toed sloth as long as it had tits and a cunt. And Ivy was certainly a few notches above rock bottom.

By the time they reached her apartment, a brick duplex on a tree-lined street on the south side of Spring Creek, Reed had decided that Ivy was downright gorgeous. Hell, he’d always liked blondes, hadn’t he? Even bleached blondes with dark roots.

Ivy’s hands trembled as she unlocked her front door. Reed stood directly behind her, his erection pulsing against her rear end. His muscular arms circled her. One hand covered a breast and the other crept up her skirt and eased between her legs. She shivered with anticipation. She was already hot and wet and throbbing.

She flung open the door. Reed shoved her inside and slammed the door behind them. She’d left a lamp burning in the bedroom, and only that dim glow and the illumination from the nearby streetlight kept the living room from being totally dark. The minute she dropped her shoulder bag on the sofa, Reed reached out and tugged on her cropped top. She lifted her arms and let him remove the garment. He tossed it on the floor and grasped both of her breasts. She groaned in response to the pressure of his big hands as his fingers dug into her flesh.

“Take it easy,” she told him.

His touch gentled immediately. His thumbs skimmed over her nipples. She sighed. Then he lowered his head and took one peak into his mouth and suckled. She tossed back her head and moaned with pleasure. He slid his hand between her legs and pushed upward until he reached his goal. After slipping his fingers inside her bikini panties, he rubbed her nub until she closed her legs and held his hand in place. He worked his fingers over her slippery folds and inserted them up and into her.

Reed’s movements were rough and crude. But she had to remember how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. The last time he’d made love, he’d been a kid, a teenager.

Ivy unzipped Reed’s jeans, reached inside, and slipped her hand under his briefs. He groaned deep in his throat when she encircled his shaft and withdrew him gently.

“God, Ivy, I can’t wait any longer.” He grabbed her and flung her onto the sofa.

She lifted her hips, jerked off her panties, and spread her legs. “Come on, big boy.”

“It’s been a long time for me. I’m out of practice.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripped open the packet, and slid the rubber over his erect penis.

“It’s all right, honey,” she said. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

Her teasing laughter turned to gasping sighs when he thrust into her. God, he was big. Big and hard and pumping into her like a jackhammer. If he didn’t slow down, he’d be finished before—

A animalistic cry of completion moaned from deep within him as he climaxed. Convulsions of release racked his body.

He slumped over to her side, easing part of his weight off her. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t come.”

“It’s all right,” she said, and meant it. She’d never seen a guy more in need.

“Give me another chance and I promise I’ll do it right next time.” He used his fingers to comfort and entice her. “What do you say?”

“Why don’t you stay all night?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Ella arrived at her office promptly at eight o’clock. She liked to get in earlier, but when her father was in town, she stayed home to have breakfast with him. Ordinarily she grabbed a cup of coffee and a biscuit and ate on her drive from their home on East First Street to the courthouse in the center of the town square. Her mother seldom woke before ten, and then Viola usually served Carolyn breakfast in bed. So, this morning she’d had her father all to herself. There was no one she loved and admired more than Webb Porter, and she thought herself fortunate to be his daughter. Despite the fact that they didn’t share the same genes, they were remarkably alike. In her case, nurture definitely won out over nature. She was a true Porter in every sense of the word. Her father had told her so many times. The fact that they thought alike on so many issues and had similar traits and habits seemed to delight her father as much as it did her. They were as close as any parent and child could be. She knew without a doubt that she was the joy of Webb Porter’s life. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Ella laid her briefcase down atop her large antique oak desk. Her father had sat behind this very desk when he’d served as a circuit court judge, before his election to the U.S. Senate ten years ago. When she’d been elected last year, he had told her that she was carrying on a family tradition. Webb had been a local district attorney and then a judge. His father before him had been a congressman, and his grandfather the lieutenant governor.

After removing her jacket and hanging it over the back of her chair, Ella sat down in the tufted-backed oxblood leather swivel chair. Her mind instantly wandered back to something her father had said during breakfast.

“If that man contacts you, I want to know about it immediately,” Webb had told her. “He swore revenge against me, and I wouldn’t put it past him to come after you in order to hurt me.”

“Daddy, do you really think Reed Conway is a danger to our family?”

“I think he very well could be. If he’s bent on getting back at me, then it’s possible that he’ll go after the people I love. So I want you to promise me to be careful and notify me if he approaches you, either in person or with a phone call.”

Ella shivered. A sense of foreboding echoed inside her. Did she truly have something to worry about where Reed Conway was concerned? Was her father being overly cautious? Would Reed actually jeopardize his parole in order to seek revenge? If anything happened to a member of her family, Reed would be the first person the police would question. She really hadn’t known Reed, except to recognize him as Judy Blalock’s son. Judy Conway. After her second husband had been murdered, she’d legally changed her name back to Conway.

And of course, Ella had known Reed as the star of Spring Creek High’s football team. He’d been the guy every girl wanted and every parent feared. He’d had a reputation as a stud, and even when she’d been fifteen, she had understood why girls were drawn to him like moths to a flame. He’d been big and ruggedly good-looking and possessed a cocky smile that made you think he’d been up to no good. And from what she’d heard, he usually had been up to no good.

A knock on the door brought Ella back from her memories. “Yes?”

“It’s me, Miss Ella,” a gentle masculine voice said. “I’ve come to fix your lights.”

“Come on in, Roy.”

One of the flourescent light fixtures overhead had burned out yesterday and she’d had her secretary, Kelly, request a maintenance man to replace the bulb. Roy Moses, with a tool belt hanging below his jelly-belly tummy, just above his hips, entered the room carrying a ladder. He smiled and nodded, his squinty brown eyes, greeting her with his usual appreciative glance. Roy was a few years older than she, a bit slow-witted, and one of the sweetest guys she’d ever known. He wore his white-blond hair cropped short, which made his full face look perfectly round, like a pale pink ball.

“Good morning, Miss Ella. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, Roy. And you?”

“Fine as frog hair.” He chuckled, the sound a series of deep, slow haw-haw-haws.

“That’s good.” Ella had known Roy most of her life. He had a sister who was a nurse and a brother who was a fireman. Roy’s IQ score identified him as borderline retarded, but he was a hard worker who held down two part-time jobs. He wasn’t a member of the regular maintenance staff, but was employed as a part-time janitor who did odd jobs at the courthouse—a position Webb Porter had insisted be created for him. His other position was at Conway’s Garage, where he washed and waxed cars and did odd jobs.

“Don’t want to disturb you none,” Roy said as he set up the ladder beneath the fluorescent ceiling fixture.

“You aren’t disturbing me. Go ahead and do your job.”

“You look real pretty this morning, Miss Ella.”

“Thank you.” Every time he saw her, Roy told her how pretty she looked. She suspected he had an innocent crush on her.

“Did you hear the news?” Roy began climbing the ladder.

“What news is that?” Ella unsnapped her briefcase.

“That Reed Conway is out of prison.”

“Oh, that. Yes. I’m sure everyone in Spring Creek is aware that he was released on parole yesterday.”

“I liked Reed.” Roy inspected the light fixture. “I’ll have to take this down and go get another one.”

“You liked Reed Conway? I didn’t realize that you’d actually known him.”

“Sure, I knew him. He was my friend. My brother Tommy played football with Reed and he used to come to our house sometimes. He was always nice to me. He never made fun of me the way some of Tommy’s other friends did. And he’d let me toss around the football with him and Tommy.” Roy chuckled his good-natured haw-haw-haw. “Reed used to call me ‘my buddy Roy Boy.’”

“I didn’t really know him,” Ella said.

“You would have liked him. Everybody liked Reed. I couldn’t believe it when they sent him away to prison. Anybody who knew him knew he wouldn’t have killed nobody. Not Reed.”

“Sometimes even good people do bad things.”

“I know Reed’s stepdaddy was a bad man, but if Reed killed him, he didn’t mean to.” Roy removed the burned-out light fixture and climbed down the ladder with it. “I’m going to be working with Reed.”