Watching Amanda (19 page)

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Authors: Janelle Taylor

BOOK: Watching Amanda
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“No, Paul,” she whispered. “I can't. I don't know that that's what I want.”
“I understand,” he said. “It's very difficult to keep my hands off you. But I won't take another liberty, I promise you. I'll let you make the next move, if you want to. And if you don't want to, I'll respect that.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “We'd better get downstairs before my chicken cacciatore turns to rubber.” She took a final glance at her sleeping son, and then Paul followed her out of the room.
A few minutes later, they were seated across from each other at the dining room table.
“Wow, everything looks delicious,” Paul said. “I remember what an amazing cook you are. I've missed your home cooking.”
Amanda smiled. “Now if only I can get Tommy to eat anything other than scrambled eggs, cheerios, and bananas.”
He laughed. “You know what this table is missing?” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a book of matches, then lit the two candles in the center of the table. “There. Now it couldn't be more perfect.”
It was a little too romantic for Amanda's comfort level, but she reminded herself that they were just candles.
They are what you attach to them
, she told herself.
Paul heaped some salad onto his plate. “Amanda, I'm curious. That little joke I made about this Ethan guy coming with the brownstone—he doesn't actually live here, does he?”
“No,” Amanda said. “But until certain elements of the will are finalized, he is staying here.”
“Ah. That's why he's here now,” Paul said. “I have to say, when I came in and saw him, I was thrown for a major loop. I didn't know if he was your boyfriend or what. I'm very, very relieved to know that he's just an ‘or what.'”
An
or what
. It actually fit.
“So he's staying upstairs?” Paul asked. “Right near your bedroom?” He put down his fork and shook his head. “Forget I even said that, okay? I have no right to be proprietary about you or jealous. I apologize, okay?”
She smiled. “Okay.”
He's not the person who attacked me. He can't be.
No one is ruled out
, she could hear Ethan saying in her ear.
As Paul began talking about Tommy and how much it meant to him to be able to put him to sleep, Amanda forced herself to put Ethan Black out of her mind. And by the time they finished eating and Paul cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher—he insisted—she realized she hadn't thought of Ethan once in at least a half-hour.
Well, it was a start.
After dessert
,
they moved into the living room for coffee. Amanda set down a tray with two cups and a sugar bowl and some milk, then sat down on the sofa, and Paul sat next to her, not too close, but close enough for her to be very aware of him.
“Amanda, I can't tell you what this evening has meant to me,” he said, sipping his coffee. “I never thought I could be a father because I was such a disappointment to my own father. I didn't think I would know what to
do
. And tonight really helped me see you really don't need to know what to do—you just need to feel.”
Amanda picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, even though she really wasn't in the mood for coffee. She needed a buffer between them, even it was just a small china cup.
She offered a smile, mostly because she didn't know what to say. Yes, you needed to feel, but you also needed to be a responsible adult. You needed to be a parent. This didn't seem the time or place for that kind of discussion, though, and perhaps she should just let Paul proceed as he needed to. Baby steps, as she'd said. It wasn't as though she even wanted him to jump right in and actually be Tommy's father in practice.
Arg, she didn't even know what she wanted!
She glanced at her watch. “Wow, it's getting so late. Tommy is such an early bird that I need to get to sleep by ten or I'm a zombie the next day.”
He smiled. “Enough said.” He stood up and so did she. “Thank you so much for the delicious dinner, Amanda, and this chance to be with you and Tommy again. I—” He paused and tears pooled in his eyes. He blinked them away, wiping at his eyes fast. “I felt like we were family tonight. I didn't think I'd ever really know what that would feel like. And it felt so good.”
She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I'm glad, Paul.”
He looked into her eyes. “Can I see you both again soon?”
She nodded. “I'll call you, okay? I just need a little time to process all of this.”
“I understand,” he said, heading toward the door. He took his coat from the rack, wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled open the door. Then he paused and leaned forward. “A kiss good night?” he asked.
She leaned forward, but awkwardly, and the kiss he meant to give her on her cheek landed on her lips. He pulled back a bit, looked into her eyes, and kissed her again. She didn't open her mouth or kiss him back, but she let herself be kissed, let him pull her against him, her breasts crushing against his heavy wool coat. She could feel his erection hard against her thigh and he shifted so that it was directly between her legs.
Her breath catching, she stepped back.
“I'd better go,” he said, his brown eyes smoldering with desire for her. “God, Amanda, what you do to me.” And with that he turned into the night and was gone.
CHAPTER 20
Ethan had to force himself not to race down the stairs and pummel Paul Swinwood to a lifeless pulp. He'd watched their entire evening on his wristwatch screen; the camera pointing at the sofa also covered the dining room and foyer, and as he watched Paul kiss Amanda, pull her against him, he clenched his teeth.
When the two of them had gone upstairs to put Tommy to bed, he'd come really close to going after Paul.
He rewound the tape on his wristwatch and forced himself to watch Paul kiss Amanda again. But he had no idea if he needed to see it because he couldn't believe he was so damned jealous or because he wanted to remind himself that he couldn't let himself care about her, that he had to keep his distance and make sure that what happened between them the other night never happened again.
If he wasn't a cold-blooded killer in sheep's clothing, then maybe they deserved a second chance. The kid would get his mother and father back together. Amanda would get back the man she clearly once loved.
But until Ethan knew for sure that Paul Swinwood wasn't the one who tried to kill Amanda, he'd watch the guy very closely. And he'd make sure Paul kept his hands to himself.
Once he was sure Amanda was in bed for the night, he left his room and did a final check of the doors and windows. And then he headed back upstairs, stopping in front of Amanda's room and wondering whom was she dreaming of.
 
“Whore.”
Amanda felt the whispered breath in her ear a split second before the pillow came down hard on her face.
Nooo!
she'd screamed against the pressure. But there was no sound. And once again she was no match for whoever stood over her. She couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't breathe.
Couldn't call for help.
Tommy!
she shouted in her mind as tears and adrenaline fought for control of her.
Ethan! Help me, please!
She struggled against the taut arms on either side of her, and then with her last thought, she managed to release one arm and waved it beside the bed with force.
Something landed with a thud on the floor. Yes. Yes. She'd knocked over the alarm clock.
Please, Ethan. Please have heard that and come. Please.
“Amanda?” he called. “You okay?”
Come. Please come!
The arms let go and Amanda bolted upright, her hands flying to her sore neck. She gasped for breath. As Ethan raced into the room, the figure pushed him against the wall and ran out the door and down the stairs.
Ethan ran out in pursuit, and Amanda jumped out of bed and rushed to the crib. Once again, Tommy lay safe, his chest rising and falling steadily.
As Amanda gasped for breath, she realized how easy it would have been for whoever had attacked her to have taken Tommy and gone, just like that.
How the hell was the person getting in? How?
With her key? Amanda wondered, Clara Mott's disapproving face popping into her mind.
Whore ...
Oh God. Whoever it was had called her a whore. Why?
Ethan came running back into the room. “Are you all right?”
She dropped to her knees on the floor in front of Tommy's crib. “I'm so scared, Ethan. Once, okay maybe it was a random break-in. But this was the same M.O. Someone wants me dead.”
He kneeled down in front of her and reached out his hand. She took it and let him pull her up into his arms. He carried her to the bed and gently laid her down.
“Tommy and I can't stay in this room,” she said.
“I'll camp out on the floor,” he offered. “We'll lock the door and barricade it with the desk chair.”
She closed her eyes. “Okay.”
Ethan locked the door and set a chair under the doorknob, then sat down on the edge of Amanda's bed. “Tell me everything you can remember. Everything. Every smell, every breath. Height, weight. Anything you can remember.”
Amanda sat up against the headboard and burst into tears, unable to stop. “Who is trying to kill me? Who hates me that much?” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Amanda,” Ethan said gently, “this will sound weird, but it may have nothing to do with hate and nothing to do with you at all and everything to do with unadulterated greed.”
“Let's call the police,” Amanda said. “I want police protection.”
Ethan nodded and picked up the telephone and handed it to her.
She dialed 911. “Someone just tried to suffocate me with a pillow,” she told the operator. “This is the second time someone broke into my house and tried to kill me.” She was assured that the officers were on their way.
As they waited, Ethan asked her again what she remembered. “Whoever it was whispered ‘whore' into my ear. Right before I realized that I couldn't breathe, I heard the whisper in my ear.”
“Whore,” he repeated. “Was it a male voice? Female?”
“I don't know!” she cried. “It was a whisper.”
“Was there any trace of accent? Was it said with anger or just stated?”
She shook her head. “I don't know. I'd been sleeping and—I do know the person was tall—not as tall as you, though.”
“Yes, I'd say that too. I couldn't get a handle on weight, though. I couldn't judge if it was a man or a woman.”
Amanda leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “How are they getting in? Is it Clara with her key? If someone had broken in, wouldn't we have heard glass shattering or something?”
“Amanda, let's just wait for the police. They'll determine that. In the meantime, just try to breathe, try to relax.”
“Who do you think it is, Ethan?” she asked, searching his eyes.
“I don't know,” he told her. “But I do know that from now on, I'm sleeping on this floor. Anyone who wants to hurt you is going to have to kill me first. And trust me, they won't get the chance.”
“I just want this to be over,” she said. “I want this to be over so I can just leave this house and figure out what to do with my life.”
The doorbell rang and they headed downstairs to let in the police. Again they investigated and dusted. “Someone picked the lock or used a key,” one of the cops told Amanda.
“You'll call if you find anything?” Ethan asked the police.
They assured them both they would and then left. Then Ethan brewed a fresh pot of coffee. “Paul was on this block earlier today,” he reminded her. “He told you he saw us coming out. Perhaps when we parted, he ran around back and got to work on the lock.”
“It could have been several other people,” Amanda said.
“With that kind of access to the brownstone?”
“Clara had access.”
“Clara has a key,” Amanda pointed out.
“She's also smart enough to realize she would have to make it look like she broke in,” Ethan said. “As far as we know, she's the only one with a key.”
“So Paul and Clara,” Amanda said, wrapping her trembling hands around her coffee mug. “That's who we're focusing on.”
“And your sisters' mothers,” Ethan added. “They're a little too invested.”
“Well there's still my father's former secretary's son,” Amanda said. “And don't forget all the other heirs you claim there could be. It could be anyone.”
“You don't want it to be Paul pretty bad,” he said.
“Right. I want the father of my child to be the one who keeps trying to kill me.”
“I would also add because you're still in love with him,” Ethan said.
She whirled to face him. “You have no idea how I feel.”
“I saw enough to have a pretty good idea,” he snapped. “Including that good-bye kiss at the door.”
Her cheeks burned. “Too bad you weren't looking before dinner,” she retorted. “When he put his hands on my breasts. You would have gotten an eyeful then.”
He glared at her. “Did you sleep with him?”
“I think you would have overheard that, Ethan.”
“You're not that loud, Amanda,” he said.
She slapped him across the face and then gasped, shocked that she'd done it. “I'm going back upstairs,” she said, scooping up sleeping Tommy. “You can lie across my closed and locked door if you want, but I don't want you anywhere near me.”
“Fine with me,” he snapped.
Furious, tears stinging the backs of her eyes, she cradled her son against her chest and rushed upstairs, closing the door to her room behind her. Once she settled Tommy in his crib, she slid down to the floor and cried.
Since there had been two attempts on her life, Amanda was relieved that the police on “her beat” were going to keep a closer eye on her residence. And Ethan was going to have the locks re-keyed as a precaution. What she wanted most was a burglar alarm system and was baffled as to why the brownstone didn't have one. But until the place was hers, she wasn't allowed to make any changes, even for hers and Tommy's protection. As angry as she was with Ethan, at least he was there and determined to safeguard them. If she didn't drive him away.

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