Shocking Pink (34 page)

A
ndie watched Julie go, the blood rushing to her head, panic with it. Dear God. Could David Sadler be Julie’s lover? Could Julie be the special woman he had talked about during their sessions?

I don’t want to hurt her, Dr. Bennett. Help me, please. I don’t want to hurt her.

Andie began to shake. She thought of David, of what she knew of him from their work together. She remembered the things he had said about his sexual preferences, how he had described women and his need to control them, his need to subjugate them.

She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the rope burns she had seen on Julie’s wrists the day she’d visited her friend at her apartment. And tonight, she had seen Julie wince and bring a hand to her throat, as if she was hurting, the gesture instinctive. Did she have bruises there, too? Bruises from a rope?

Mrs. X, dangling from the end of a rope. Her once-beautiful face distorted in death.

Fear took Andie’s breath. She took a step backward, toward her house. If David Sadler was Julie’s lover, that meant he was involved with all three of them. Her, Julie and Raven. Best friends.

Her heart began to thrum, adrenaline to pump through her. It could be a coincidence, she told herself, struggling to get hold of herself. Sure it could be. He could simply have—

What? Thistledown was a small town, but was it that small? One man, involved with the three women who had been involved in Thistledown’s most notorious crime?

Two, a coincidence. Maybe. But all three? No way.

Andie thought of the calls and clippings, thought of Mr. and Mrs. X’s music and the noose and black silk scarf. She recalled the way Raven had questioned her about David Sadler, as if pumping her for information about him. As if she had already known about him and Julie and wondered if he might be involved somehow with Andie.

Why was he doing this? Why had he sought out the three of them? What would be the…

Her blood went cold.

David Sadler really was Mr. X.

With a cry of pure terror, Andie turned and ran back to her house, slamming and locking the door behind her. She raced to her purse and rummaged through it, looking for Nick’s card. She found it and reached for the phone.

Nick would know what to do. He would find David Sadler and lock him up. She and her friends would be safe.

She punched in the number, then hesitated as it began to ring. What if she was wrong? She was upset. Frightened for Julie. For all of them.

Emotion clouded good sense, rational thought. Could be David Sadler was just what he said he was. His being involved with the three of them could be, if not purely coincidental, relatively innocent.

What he and Julie were involved in was dangerous, but as far as she knew, not illegal. Wasn’t that what those cops had told her all those years ago? And all those years ago, she had followed her instincts and her world had been blown apart; her friends, and their families, had been hurt.

She had much more to lose now. Her career was at stake. Her reputation. Her safety, that of her friends.

She dropped the receiver back onto the cradle. If she went to the police, to Nick, she would break her oath of confidentiality. She could be exposing an innocent man to embarrassing, even damaging, scrutiny; a man she had made a promise to. If she didn’t, she might be allowing a killer to roam free. Or worse, she might be allowing him the opportunity to kill again.

I don’t want to hurt her, Dr. Bennett. Help me.

Andie brought the heels of her hands to her eyes, recalling the day David had told her about the special woman he’d met. He’d been taunting her, she realized. Asking if she wanted to know the woman’s name, all the while knowing his lover was one of her best friends.

David Sadler had been playing with her all along.

No, Andie thought. That wasn’t quite true. Half the time he had been playing a twisted game with her, the other half he had been begging for her help. He wanted her help; in that, he was being sincere. She believed that with every fiber of her being.

What did she do? Suddenly, her house seemed too big, too quiet. Her questions, the decision she had to make, pressed in on her. She didn’t want to be alone. But she didn’t want to be with just anybody.

She wanted to be with Nick. If she confided in him, he would know what to do. If she didn’t, he would still make her feel safe.

Without giving herself the time to change her mind, she went to the phone book, hoping against hope that he was listed. She found an N. Raphael on Marigold. In The Meadows subdivision, she realized. She had looked at a house on Marigold, way back.

Saying a silent prayer of thanks, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

F
ifteen minutes later, Andie stood on Nick’s doorstep, torn between praying he was home and hoping with all her heart that he wasn’t. She lifted her hand to knock again, then thought better of it and turned to leave.

Before she could, the door opened behind her. “Andie?”

She spun back around, tears flooding her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but unable to find her voice, just gazed helplessly up at Nick.

He searched her expression a moment then without speaking, swung the door wider. She stepped through it and into his arms. For long moments, she clung to him, finding more comfort than she could have imagined in his strong arms that surrounded her, in the steady beat of his heart under her cheek. If only she could find the answers she sought as easily and as well.

He cupped her face in his hands and tipped it up to his. “What’s happened?”

She shook her head, overcome with emotion. “I…can’t. I—”

“Andie, if—”

“Daddy! Who’s—” Mara barreled around the corner, skidding to a stop when she saw Andie, her face falling.

Andie’s heart broke at the look. She remembered what it was like to have to share her father with a stranger. “Hello, Mara.” Andie smiled at the child, then looked at Nick. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, making a fluttering motion with her right hand. “I didn’t know… I should have thought that it might be your weekend with Mara.”

“It’s all right.” He winked at his daughter. “Isn’t it, sweetie?”

The girl said nothing for a moment, as if thinking it over. Then she nodded. “I guess. But you have to do what we want to do.”

Nick opened his mouth as if to reprimand his daughter, and Andie stopped him by touching his arm and jumping in. “Of course I will.”

“We made popcorn an’ we’re playing Battle.” She narrowed her eyes. “Ever play it before? It’s real fun.”

“Battle?” Andie repeated. “What is it?”

“A card game,” Nick offered. “We called it War when I was a kid.”

When Andie still didn’t recall, the girl took her hand and led her toward the living room. “That’s okay,” she said. “It’s pretty easy. I’ll teach you.”

The child sat on the floor and she pointed to the place across from her. “Daddy can sit next to me.”

“How about a glass of wine?”

“Thanks.” Andie smiled up at Nick.

“Bernard
never
plays what me and Mommy want to.” The little girl wrinkled her nose. “We always have to do what he wants.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Andie said lightly.

“It isn’t.” Mara sighed and propped her chin on her fists. “I liked it better when my mommy and daddy were together.”

“I know what you mean,” Andie said, mimicking Mara’s body language, propping her chin on her fist. “My mommy and daddy moved to different houses, too.”

“They did?”

“Uh-huh. And I was really sad.”

Mara reached out and patted her hand. “Me, too.”

“But you know what?” She smiled at the girl. “One day I woke up and I wasn’t sad anymore.”

“Did your mommy and daddy get back together?”

“No.” Andie shook her head. “But I realized that even though we were living apart, they both still loved me as much as they always had. And that made everything…okay.”

Mara thought about that a moment, then cocked her head. “You looked sad tonight,” she said. “When I first saw you.”

“I was,” Andie answered.

“How come?”

Andie thought a moment, wanting to be as honest as she could be with the six-year-old. “A friend of mine is in…trouble.”

“My daddy helps people who are in trouble.” Mara’s face lit up with love and pride. “Is that why you’re here?”

Andie lifted her gaze. Nick stood in the doorway, watching them. She met his eyes, and her heart did a funny little something. Was that why she was here? That’s what she had told herself when she left her house and headed over here. She had told herself that he would have answers, that she would know what to do when she saw him.

She had been lying to herself. The truth was, she hadn’t thought about those things since she walked through his front door. The truth was, she was here because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, because she liked him and liked being part of his little family, a lot more than she should. The truth was, she had been wanting to be with him again, ever since the night he had spent on her couch.

“Yes,” she murmured, “that’s why.”

He crossed the room, never breaking eye contact. He bent and handed her the glass of wine, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he whispered, “Just can’t stop working, can you, Dr. Bennett?”

She took the wine; their fingers brushed.

Nick announced that there had been enough talk, it was time to get back to the game. With Mara’s consent, he reshuffled and dealt new hands, so Andie could be included.

The game went from zero to fast and furious with the first throw, which turned into a triple battle. Mara was quick; she knew her numbers and the value of face cards, and quickly cleaned up. After several hands of that, they moved to a rousing three-game round of Candy Land.

Finally, Nick called it quits. It was late, and though Mara protested loudly and vigorously, she was out on her feet.

“Sorry, shortcake—” he stood and held out a hand “—time for bed.”

“Daddy!” She drew the word out, sounding adult and exasperated, one last attempt to wheedle a few more minutes out of him. “I’m not tired.”

“Sorry, kiddo, tired or not, it’s ten o’clock. If you don’t go to bed, you’re going to be a grump tomorrow, and your mother will have my head.”

“Okay.” She dragged herself to her feet. “But I want four stories.”

“Two,” he countered, smiling.

She looked at him long and hard, then held out three fingers. “And no less.”

Nick laughed and met Andie’s eyes. “I’ll be back.”

He and Mara started off, then Mara stopped and ran back to her. She gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “’Night.”

A lump the size of Texas formed in Andie’s throat. “Good night,” she managed to say, her voice choked.

Mara skipped back to her dad, and Andie watched them go. Dear God, what was she doing? Falling in love with Nick? With his daughter? She squeezed her eyes shut, acknowledging the truth.

She was falling in love with a man who wasn’t really free. A man who wasn’t ready for a relationship, a man who had a daughter who still dreamed of her mom and dad getting back together. A man who was nothing like anyone she had ever imagined herself being with.

Then why did being with him feel like a dream come true?

Stupid. Stupid.
She knew better. She was setting herself up to be hurt. The Big Hurt. A broken heart.

Andie opened her eyes and glanced toward the front door. She could jot a quick note of apology and goodbye to Nick, and be long gone before he emerged from Mara’s room.

So why didn’t she? Her cheeks heated at the truth. Because she didn’t want to. She was afraid, but not that afraid. For the first time in her life, she realized with a sense of shock, desire overpowered her instinct for self-preservation. Nick Raphael was worth the risk.

Desire.
Andie brought a hand to her mouth, feeling giddy, light-headed and short of breath. She burned with it. With the need to be with a man, this man, with the need to mate with him.

Another first.

Andie stood and crossed to the bookcase, her legs shaky. She scanned the titles without really seeing them. Was this how Julie felt about men? she wondered. Hot and achingly alive, distracted and flushed and more than a little bit out of control?

If so, she could understand now how her friend allowed herself to be ensnared by one unsuitable man after another, how she managed to embroil herself in one disastrous love affair after another.

Here she was, sensible Andie Bennett, on that very precipice herself.

“Mission accomplished. She’s asleep already.”

Startled, Andie spun around, cheeks on fire. “Nick.”

He slipped his hands into his pockets and cocked his head, studying her. His lips lifted. “You were expecting someone else?”

“Of course not. I…you move quietly.”

“I’m a cop. It’s one of the tools of the trade.” He took a step into the room. “I wondered if you would still be here when I came back out. I half thought not.”

“Intuitive, too.” She smiled nervously. “Another asset?”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed to stand before her. He reached out and trailed his index finger down her cheek. She felt his touch to the tips of her toes, and tipped her head into the caress. “What happened, Andie? When you got here, you looked like the devil himself was chasing you.”

She feared he was.
“I’m better now.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Her lips lifted. “I know.”

“Andie—”

She laid her fingers against his mouth. She saw the concern in his eyes, the speculation. She didn’t want either, not right now. And she didn’t want him to be a cop—only a man.

“I can’t,” she said again. “Not yet.” She searched his gaze. “Give me some time. Okay?”

He caught her hand and held it against his mouth a moment more, then brought it to his heart. “You said I was right, that you almost sneaked off while I was putting Mara to bed. Why?”

Underneath her hand, his heart beat strong and steady. She curled her fingers into his cotton pullover, longing to be closer, to feel that beat against her own breast. “Because,” she murmured, her voice thick, “if I stayed, I knew what would happen.”

The tempo of his heart increased. “And what was that?”

She lifted her gaze boldly to his. “I knew we’d make love.”

For one moment he stood frozen, surprised, she knew, by her sudden daring. Then he kissed her, deeply, passionately, drawing her into him as surely as the sun drew a flower to its bright heat.

She kissed him back, long, drugging exchanges that went on forever, yet not nearly long enough. Never breaking contact, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them.

He dispelled her second thoughts with the brush of his fingertips, a murmured endearment, a throaty sound of passion. He dispensed with her clothes the same way, and she with his. They sank to the bed.

Being naked with him was a sensual delight, his hard body made for her softer one. She explored at her leisure, and he at his. His body fit hers as if they had been made for one another.

She had never known, never believed, sex could be like this, magical and renewing and perfect. She had never imagined a man could be so gentle, so willing to give and receive in return. He made himself vulnerable to her, he told her what he liked, he asked for what he needed.

He expected her to do the same in return.

At first she was afraid. Asking for what she needed came with risks. So did sharing what she really wanted. Once he knew what really mattered to her, she would be completely vulnerable to him.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against her mouth, as if sensing her hesitation. “I’ll give it to you, Andie. I promise.”

So she did. She opened herself to him in all ways but the last. She asked for what she needed, what she wanted, she told him what was in her heart, what really mattered to her.

And when she opened herself in that final way, he took what she offered and sank into her. Their hands met as their pelvises did; he laced his fingers with hers. He caught her mouth, taking the very breath she needed to survive, drawing it from her lungs and into his own. Then in the moment she was sure she would die, he gave it and her life back to her.

Nick Raphael breathed life into her.

She arched against him, crying out her pleasure. Her release. He muffled the sound with his mouth, with his own sound of pleasure. His own release.

Afterward, they lay on their sides, facing one another. He brushed his fingers over the curve of her hip to the dip of her waist and back, seemingly content just to gaze at her.

“I should go,” she said, dreading the moment, dreading how she would feel an hour or a day or even a minute from now. Already hating her worries, her hopes, the anxious hours she would spend waiting or wondering.

It had started already. Nick wasn’t a free man. He had uttered not one word of love, no promises, no mentions even of the day after tonight or the minute after this one.

He tangled his fingers in her hair. “I don’t want you to go. Not yet.”

“Mara—”

“Won’t be up for hours. She’s a sound sleeper.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

She smiled. “I don’t want me to go, either.”

He moved his gaze over her face, then lower, taking a leisurely path. When he found her gaze again, she knew that her cheeks were pink. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

A smile of pure, feminine pleasure stole across her mouth. If she were a cat, she would purr and rub herself against him.

“I mean it, you know. It’s not just because we made love.” His lips lifted. “Or because I want to make love again.”

She arched her eyebrow. “You promise?”

“Which?”

“Either. Both.”

“It’s not.” He rolled her on top of him. “But I do.”

She lowered her mouth to his. “I do, too.”