Trace of Fever (31 page)

“Oh, those.” She peeked at him. “I figured you wouldn’t be fooled.”

“You still have them?”

She put her head back against the seat. “Since I didn’t get a chance to use them…yeah.”

“I’ll take them off your hands.”

“Why?”

Because he didn’t want her to keep reminders of the day.

And he didn’t want her playing around with dangerous gag weapons.

If she needed protection, he’d damn well protect her. But it wasn’t the time to lay all that on her.

“Better to have them destroyed than to run the risk of someone later finding them, and maybe tying you to the scene.”

Her hand squeezed his, and she said faintly, “And the deaths.”

Trace kissed her knuckles. “Exactly.”

She nodded agreement. “So…Alani.” She turned toward him again. “You two are close?”

“Very. We always were, but especially after my parents died. She’s eight years younger than me, so I’ve been sort of a stand-in parent as well as a brother.”

“Eight years younger, so that makes her…?”

“She recently turned twenty-three.” Too damn young for Jackson. Unless…unless Jackson was the one she wanted.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Priss told him. “But she’s not much younger than me. Definitely not a child.”

“No.” Losing both her parents had forced her to grow up quick. “She’s been throwing herself into her work. After what happened, with the abduction I mean, I wanted
her to take some time off, but she said that she needed to stay busy.”

“That’s what I’d do.”

No. Priss would go after the one responsible. Trace had to give thanks that Alani had the good sense to leave the destruction of bad guys to him.

“She’s an interior decorator or something, right?”

“Yes.” Trace brushed his thumb over Priss’s knuckles. Other than Dare, he hadn’t talked with anyone about Alani. But talking to Priss felt right. “I backed her financially and helped her get set up, so she owns her own design business. She can set her own hours, but instead of taking it easy, she puts in fifty-hour weeks or more.”

That amused Priss. “So even though you’re rich, and even though you’ve probably done your best to spoil her, she still has a great work ethic.”

Pride swelled inside him. “I tried to give her every advantage, yeah. But she’s still grounded.” Still very sweet and unspoiled.

Like Priss. She’d never had anyone to spoil her, but that would change now. Her mother’s fear had handicapped her upbringing, depriving her of so much. Trace had the means to give her a taste of everything she’d missed, and then some.

He was due a little time off. Unless Dare or Jackson needed him, he’d be free to dedicate plenty of attention to Priss. That decision was as much for him as it was for her. Even in the middle of chaos, he wanted her. Maybe with enough alone time, he’d finally be able to blunt the sharp edge of need.

But probably not. And truthfully, he was starting to enjoy the way she made him feel.

A
FTER DROPPING HER OFF
to “visit with Molly and Dare” earlier that day, Trace had left her. He hadn’t specified
where he was going, or when he’d be back, but he’d already been gone for hours.

Dare was working in the yard, and Molly got a phone call from her agent, so Priss decided to swim in the lake. Chris and Matt were already down there, and the animals—including Liger—had joined them. With the sun so bright and the sky so blue, a swim just might cool her temper.

It wasn’t that she needed Trace’s constant attention, but she resented the secrecy surrounding his absence today.

For two months now, they’d spent the better part of each day together. Trace woke her with kisses, held her while she slept, and between those times he alternately made love to her and treated her to one adventure after another.

She was happy. Happier than she’d ever known possible, and with every minute, she loved him more.

Normally she’d be worried about the shop after being away so long. But she and Trace had been there twice to check on things, and surprisingly, Gary did a great job running it. Once the responsibility fell to him, he’d stepped up and proven to be even more attentive to details than Priss herself. During each visit, she’d found the shop well organized, the stock in order, all the computer work up-to-date and not even a speck of dust marring the appearance.

It was nice not having to think about the shop.

In fact, she didn’t have to think about much of anything. Maybe that was part of the problem. She was so used to focusing on how she’d get to Murray, how she’d make him pay, and now…she felt in limbo.

Blast him. Where had Trace gone and why did he still not confide in her?

As Priss strode onto the sun-warmed dock, the dogs looked up at her, and Liger stirred. He tended to trail the
dogs wherever they went, but he drew the line at actually getting in the water. He’d walk along the shore on the rock retaining wall, and the fish fascinated him. But most of all he’d taken to sunning himself. Now, with Priss smiling at him, he got up to wind in and around her bare legs.

“You’ve been even more pampered than me, haven’t you?”

Liger brushed his teeth over her knee, gave her one of his sweet meows and then fell to his back again, stretching out and closing his eyes.

Matt popped up over the end of the dock. “He’s really taken over running the place.”

“I can see that.” Liger got attention from everyone, sat where he wanted, slept when he felt like it, and enjoyed playing with Sargie and Tai. While she and Trace traveled, Chris insisted on keeping the cat. Liger didn’t need constant supervision, but Chris had gotten close to him, and vice versa.

With Liger now resting, Priss pulled off her cover-up.

Matt whistled. “Nice suit.”

She looked down at herself. The suit was pretty basic; beige with no adornment, not an itty-bitty bikini but not overly modest, either. It was almost the exact color as her skin, so it didn’t clash with anything, but the material was thick enough to conceal all things vital. “It’s the first one I’ve ever owned. It looks okay?”

Chris swam over to the dock, too. Crossing his forearms over the end, he surveyed her. “Trace hasn’t seen it yet, has he?”

She shook her head, and tried not to sound sour when she said, “He’s out and about somewhere.” She flapped a hand. “Don’t know where, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Matt dunked his head, then came up for air. His
bleached hair stood in wet, spiky disarray, but as always, he looked good. “I’m surprised anyone could separate you two.” He swiped water from his face. “It’s been what? A couple of months together now, right? All of it nonstop clinginess.”

Dropping her towel and cover-up on a chair, Priss pretended annoyance. “Why are you here again?”

He preened theatrically. “Molly liked what I did with your hair so much that I do hers now, too. Dare even added a regular salon room in the basement for me. Makes it pretty easy to work and it saves Molly from having to suffer through the crowds and incompetence in town.”

Priss was willing to bet that Dare enjoyed knowing Molly was safe. They all trusted Matt, as far as it went, and he did do fabulous work.

Chris still hung off the end of the dock looking all too serious. “So.” He splashed Priss with a cupped hand. “What exactly are you doing down here?”

“I’m getting ready to swim with you guys.”

“No, I meant with Trace.” He glanced past her up the hill toward the house, then back again. “If that suit is supposed to push him over the edge, I’m guessing it’ll work.”

Priss doubted anyone or anything could push Trace anywhere that he didn’t intend to go. “I needed a suit, so I bought one.” She sat on the end of the dock next to Chris and let her feet dangle in the water. “And why do you always attribute ridiculous childish emotions to everything I do?”

He shook his head. “Just wondering why you haven’t yet told Trace how you feel.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

Matt laughed. “Your baleful expressions of discontent?”

Chris just stared at her, waiting.

Fine, why not be honest? “I don’t know how he feels, that’s why.”

“That’s so lame.” Chris splashed her again, harder this time, so that the water hit her in the face. “Who says the guy has to spill his guts first?”

Her temper sparked. “I’ve spilled plenty of guts for him! I confided in him about my mother long before he’d tell me anything. Do you know how long it took him to even admit—”

Matt said, “La, la, la…” and wisely dunked his head under the water again.

“—that he was undercover?”

“You know why,” Chris told her.

It annoyed Priss that she’d forgotten to be cautious. Obviously Matt was a welcome, trusted friend, but he wasn’t in on the business, and she knew better than to mention anything about it. “In the beginning, sure.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t need him to tell me.” She looked out across the water. “I’ve figured it all out.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“He took off again today, all hush-hush, and
still
didn’t trust me enough to say where he had to go.”

Matt resurfaced. “Sorry.” He gasped for air. “Can’t hold my breath any longer.”

“No problem,” Priss told him. Maybe she’d catch Chris later and talk with him more, but for now, she’d show some discretion. “Conversation is over. I’m ready to swim.”

Chris tilted his head to study her. “You’re getting red.”

“I am
not
embarrassed about any of this.”

He rolled his eyes. “I meant from the sun. You need sunscreen if you’re going to be down here. The water reflects everything, and you’re fair-skinned.”

“Oh.” She looked at her shoulders with disinterest. Indeed, they were already turning pink.

Matt swam over to the ladder and climbed out. Just as Sargie and Tai might do, he shook off excess water, sprinkling Priss in the process. “I’ll do it.”

She eyed him. “It?”

“Put sunscreen on you.” He dripped water beside her as he held out a hand. “Up.”

After she took his hand, he hauled her to her feet. Picking up the big tube of sunscreen, Matt filled his palm. While he spread it over her shoulders and back, he said, “You know, all kidding aside, I like you, Priss. You’re a good sort.”

“Ditto.” What brought that on?

“I don’t like seeing you unhappy.” Before she could object, he continued, “I know. You and Trace have been hitting it off. You’ve enjoyed every moment. You’re
deliriously
happy.”

She frowned at him. “I would never be that dramatic.” But the description sounded about right to her.

He cupped her shoulders and smiled down at her. It was a very brotherly look, and Priss enjoyed it. She hadn’t thought to stay friends with anyone, but now she knew that, even if things didn’t work out between Trace and her, she’d keep in touch with these people. She liked them all a lot. She was especially taken with Matt.

Until he said, “It’s time to fess up, hon. Tell Trace how much you care. You’ll feel better when you do.”

Climbing up the ladder, Chris said, “Better sooner than later.” He nodded at the hillside behind them. “Because here comes Trace, and he doesn’t look happy.”

Both Priss and Matt turned, Priss with anticipation, Matt with tempered dread.

Dressed in jeans and a snowy-white T-shirt, Trace stalked down the hill.

Priss shielded her eyes to better see him. When he’d left, being so guarded about his mission, she’d half wondered if he’d return before dinner.

Trace wore reflective sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but his entire demeanor—heavy stride, rigid shoulders, tight jaw—bespoke annoyance.

As soon as he was close enough, Priss called out, “What’s wrong?”

Without answering her, Trace continued onto the dock. He didn’t stop until he stood right in front of…Matt.

Backing up to the edge of the dock, Matt said, “Uh… Hello?”

Trace didn’t say a thing; he just pushed Matt into the water.

Arms and legs flailing out, Matt hit the surface with a cannonball effect.

Stunned, Priss shoved his shoulder. “What the hell, Trace! Why did you do that?”

Trace took off his sunglasses and looked at her, all of her, from her hair to her body and down to her bare toes. After working his jaw a second, he said, “If you need sunscreen, ask me.”

Her mouth fell open. Of all the nerve! He left her at Dare’s, took off without telling her a damn thing and then had the audacity to complain when a friend tried to keep her from getting sunburned. “Maybe I would have, if you’d been here!”

“I’m here now.”

Emotions bubbled over. “So you are.” With a slow smile, Priss put both hands on his chest. The shirt was damp with sweat, the cotton so soft that she could feel every muscle beneath. “And you look a little…heated.”

Trace’s beautiful eyes darkened, and he reached for her.

“A dip will cool you down.” Priss shoved him as hard
as she could. Taken by surprise, fully dressed, Trace went floundering backward off the end of the dock.

Priss caught a glimpse of the priceless expression of disbelief on Trace’s face before he went under the water.

Excited by the activity, the dogs leaped in after him. Liger roused himself enough to move out of the line of splashing.

Chris climbed up the ladder. “So that’s the new game, huh?” He laughed as he scooped Priss up into his arms.

“Chris!” She made a grab for his shoulders. “Put me down!”

“Afraid not, doll.” Just as Trace resurfaced, Chris jumped in with her. They landed between the swimming dogs.

Sputtering, her hair in her face and her skin chilled from the shock of the cold water, Priss cursed. Trace had already waded toward the shallower water off the side of the dock. His fair hair was flattened to his head and his T-shirt stuck to his body.

“Wait!” Priss shouted at him.

He was still waist-deep as he turned to glare at her.

Kicking and splashing, Priss doggy-paddled over to him, grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Oh, no, you don’t!”

Startled, Trace scooped her bottom in his hands and struggled for balance on the squishy mud bottom of the lake. “What the hell?” And then lower, “You look naked in this damn suit.”