Authors: Patricia Sargeant

You Belong To Me (32 page)

BOOK: You Belong To Me

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Confused, Nicole opened her eyes. She looked around and realized that while she'd been dazed with passion, Malcolm had carried her to his bedroom. He smiled into her eyes. She returned the gesture and pulled him back into her arms.

Malcolm shivered as Nicole's hands slipped beneath his shirt. Her short, neat nails journeyed from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. Helplessly, he bowed into her. Nicole separated her legs beneath him, and he settled between them. She lifted her hips against him, undulating her need against his own. But he had more to share with her than his physical desire. He wanted to share his joy. Joy that she was safe and that they were back together.

Blood thrummed in his ears, but he cautioned himself to slow down. Their previous coming together had been fierce and hot. But this time he wanted to cherish her. This time was a renewal of their promise to each other. Malcolm wanted to show Nicole how much he appreciated her giving them a second chance. He wanted to prove himself worthy of her.

He gritted his teeth and, with an effort, rose to his knees on the mattress so he could undress her slowly, careful with her still-sore right arm. But Nicole wouldn't stay still. She sat up and pulled his shirt off him to suckle his nipples. Malcolm's legs began to quake.

“Not yet, Nicky,” he whispered, pushing her away from him so he could take off her sweater, mindful of her bruises. He feathered a finger over the light scrapes on her rib cage. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered.

Nicole cupped his cheek to lift his gaze to hers, then kissed him softly. When she pulled away, her ebony eyes were hot with desire. She leaned back from him and took off her bra with her left hand. Then she pulled him close to rub her naked torso against his. Malcolm moaned at the sensation, every pulse in his body racing.

He felt her hands at the waistband of his denims. He helped her slip his pants off; then he reached for her jeans. When they were both naked, she pushed him onto the mattress for a full-body caress. Her firm, silky body moved all over him, and her tongue found hot zones that pushed his body temperature toward combustion. He rolled over with her and pinned her to the bed.

She wrapped her legs around him, locked her ankles behind his hips, and rubbed herself against him. He felt her taut stomach muscles flex beneath him. The heat from her body battered against him like waves from the Pacific Ocean.

Malcolm covered her mouth with his own and stroked her tongue with his as he sank into herâlong, slow, and deep. Every pore of his body wanted to be filled with her. Nicole arched into him, writhing under him. He moved within her, meeting her arches with counterthrusts. Malcolm gave her everything he had, then begged her to take more. She gave back tenfold.

Nicole stiffened beneath him. Her body pulsed around him. He stiffened above her, falling into herâand landing home.

Nicole wiggled farther under the covers, scooting back in search of Malcolm's warmth. She'd traveled almost halfway across the mattress before realizing she was alone. Rolling over, she opened her eyes and scanned the empty room. Daunted but not down, she rose carefully from the bed. She hoped a hot shower would ease the residual stiffness from the accident. Memories of the previous evening brought a happy song to her lips. Laughter and love had lifted her mood and blocked out the violent events of the past month. Had it only been five weeks since Tyrone's death?

Nicole paused midlather. Yes, it had. She'd returned to Los Angeles the second week of March, and it was now mid-April. A lot had happened in that time, and there was a lot more to do. Nicole shrugged off the threatening dark cloud and turned off the water. She wanted to extend their romantic interlude a little longer. Later she would think about the murder investigation and the person who wanted to add her to the body count.

The knock at the door helped distract her. Malcolm's voice called through the barrier.

“Shake a leg, lazy bones. I'm about to put breakfast on the table.” Amusement laced his words.

Nicole smiled in response. “Does that mean you're hungry?”

“I'm starving.” He prolonged the two-syllable word for effect. “You wore me out last night.”

Nicole chuckled. “I'm sorry, stud muffin. How inconsiderate of me.”

His rumbling laughter, deep with wicked memories and full of satisfaction, carried through the door to her. “Very. If you hurry, maybe I'll let you make it up to me.” His voice faded as he moved away from the door.

Malcolm's teasing fully restored Nicole's good mood. “Twenty minutes,” she called, not certain he'd heard her promise.

She entered the kitchen precisely twenty minutes later. She hoped she didn't look like she'd just thrown herself together, although that's exactly what she'd done. Malcolm waved her to a chair so he could serve her. Steam rose from the plate of pancakes and turkey bacon. Her coffee and orange juice followed. She felt pampered and decadent as she waited for him to take his seat.

“I'd like to make a toast.” He sat and lifted his juice glass. “To embracing the future.”

Nicole lifted her glass. “To the future.” She took a sip before placing her glass on the table. “What are your plans for today?”

Although she wanted to enjoy the glow of their reconciliation as long as possible, Nicole had to admit she was still shaken by Thursday's events. She looked forward to getting her courage back. In the meantime, she hoped Malcolm didn't have any plans that would take him away from the house for an extended period of time today. Even though it was Saturday, with his hectic schedule, he may have to go into the office.

Malcolm hesitated before answering. “I'm meeting with Omar to discuss a limited partnership for the
InterDimensions
project.” He sipped his orange juice.

Surprised, Nicole stopped eating. “You don't think he's a suspect anymore?”

Malcolm set down his glass. “No.” He told her about his meeting with Omar the day before. “I don't think Omar would commit any crimes while driving a car with personalized plates.”

Nicole forked up her pancakes. “I wish you had told me yesterday about your meeting with him.”

Malcolm's eyes narrowed. “We had other things to talk about yesterday, like the
Preview
article that claimed we were still married.”

Nicole nodded. “Or perhaps this is another example of your not wanting to trouble the little woman with business matters.” Her tone was deceptively mild.

Malcolm dropped his hands to his lap, a stony mask covering his face. “That's not what I said.”

Nicole took a moment to readjust her attitude, hoping to salvage the situation. “Would you be able to meet with Omar here? I'd rather not be alone today.”

“Of course. I'll ask him to come over.” Malcolm finished his pancakes and sipped his coffee.

Nicole waited a beat. “Do you want me to join you since you'll be discussing the
InterDimensions
project?”

Malcolm shook his head, putting down his coffee cup. “We're going to be talking about forming a limited partnership to produce the
InterDimensions
movie.”

Disappointment pinched her. She rose from her chair and placed her dishes in the dishwasher.

“Where are you going?”

Nicole shrugged. “To lie down.”

He stood and stepped toward her, concern knitting his dark brows. “Are you in pain? Do you want some aspirin?”

Nicole raised a hand to stop him, anger making her movements jerky. “I'll be fine.”

He came closer. “I'll help you upstairs.”

Nicole allowed temper to snap in her eyes. “I'll manage just fine on my own. Enjoy your business meeting.”

She took advantage of his surprise to whirl out of the room.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

Nicole closed Malcolm's bedroom door with mature restraint, then marched to the bed and punched his pillow. Twice. After releasing some of her anger, she walked over to the windows. She looked at the tree and the bushes in Malcolm's front yard before switching her attention to the red tulips in the neighbor's garden across the street. Nicole turned her head left and right, straining to see as far down both blocks as possible. No silver BMWs in sight.

She turned away from the windows and strolled back across the room. Her bare feet sank into the thick, champagne carpet. Nicole stopped before the chest-of-drawers where Malcolm had a small CD player. From the tray, she selected a CD that suited her mood and pressed the PLAY button. Erykah Badu's voice offered sisterhood and sympathy. She lowered herself onto the edge of his bed and lay back on the king-sized mattress.

Why wouldn't Malcolm let her help him with the business side of the
InterDimensions
project? Was he still trying to take care of her, or did he think she had nothing to contribute?

Erykah Badu sang on. Her lyrics drew a picture of another woman who wondered about her role in her man's life. The doorbell rang, and Nicole frowned at the ceiling as she pictured Malcolm and Omar discussing their limited partnership. She swung one leg in time with the music.

Why didn't Malcolm tell her yesterday about his meeting with Omar? Was it really just an oversight, or was he deliberately trying to exclude her from his business dealings? If the answer was the latter, why didn't he want to share that part of his life with her? Tyrone had shared his business concerns with Joyce.

Restlessly, Nicole stood and wandered around the room again. She felt as though she'd lost control of her life. She couldn't convince Malcolm to see her as a partner in this business project. She couldn't find the person who had killed Tyrone and was threatening her and Malcolm.

She lay back down on Malcolm's side of the bed, his pillow cushioning her head. Fatigue crept over her, but she shook it off.

Nicole remembered how solicitous Malcolm had been when he'd brought her home yesterday. He'd been so afraid for her. He hadn't told her so, but he didn't have to. It had been on his face and in his actions.

Nicole's eyes grew heavy, but she struggled to stay awake. What did it matter whether Malcolm discussed his work with her? Why did she feel left out if he didn't ask for her help? She'd fallen in love with him as he was; why was she intent on changing him?

Despite the trauma of the past five weeks, the past four years had shown her she was happier with Malcolm than she'd been without him. Sleep pulled at her again, and this time she allowed it to carry her away.

“Nicky? Nicky?”

Malcolm's whisper roused Nicole from her nap. She found her ex-husband sitting on the corner of the bed. Her drowsy gaze saw the concern in his dark eyes, and noted his well-muscled arms braced on either side of her. “Umm. What time is it?”

He smiled faintly. “Just after eleven. Omar's here. Do you feel up to joining us?”

Nicole blinked, suddenly wide-awake. Her heart lifted with the invitation. “But I thought the two of you were going to discuss your business partnership?”

“We already have.” Malcolm stood up. “We're on to more important topics now, like catching a killer.”

Nicole had proof that people in the film industry had lost their grip on reality. That proof was the two men sitting with her in Malcolm's great room.

Malcolm spoke with marked irritation. “Why does it have to be Rutherford?”

“Do you know a better media contact?” Omar's Southern California drawl flavored the question. “Nate has the pull at the
Preview
to make sure our announcement gets the right play.”

Nicole shook her head in disbelief. They wanted to play up the announcement of their partnership to lure the murderous psycho fan to them.

“How do you know the killer reads the
Preview
?” Malcolm asked.

Omar's lazy chuckle danced around the room. “If it's not the
Preview,
which magazine is it? Admit it, the
Preview
is giving this project more play than anyone else. You're just upset because Nate made up that story about your marriage.”

Nicole was still angry with the
Preview
reporter for his invasion of her privacy. Apparently, so was Malcolm. He rumbled an obscenity that made Omar chuckle again.

“Jackass or not, he has the pull we'll need for the coverage. We'll need the exposure to flush the killer out,” Omar said.

“This plan isn't without risks,” Malcolm cautioned. “Are you prepared for that?”

“I've never run from a fight.” Omar sounded offended.

Nicole had stayed quiet long enough. It was past time to interject a voice of reason into the debate.

“Do you really think it's a good idea to do a full advertising campaign with TV, radio, newspapers, and magazines promoting the movie? This guy killed Ty just for buying the movie rights. A promotional campaign that expansive is like putting bull's-eyes on your chests.”

Determination hardened Malcolm's gaze. “I'm not planting my hands under my ass while that nut job comes after you.”

“Instead, he's going to come after you.” Nicole didn't care whether fear shone in her eyes.

“That's a risk I'm willing to take,” Malcolm murmured.

Nicole was astounded. “I'm not expecting you to hide in your room. I'm just asking you not to pin a target on your chest.”

“Nicky,” Omar interrupted. “It's not like that. It's a good plan. Mal and I will watch out for each other. And we're going to let the police in on it.”

Nicole threw up her arms. “Great. They can complete the homicide report afterward.”

“Maybe I'd better go.” Omar stood. “Call me later, Mal. Bye, Nicky. It's good to see you're feeling better.”

“Thank you.” Nicole nodded, deciding not to mention the slight throbbing in her head. It probably had nothing to do with her concussion and everything to do with her fear for her pigheaded ex-husband.

Malcolm escorted Omar out while Nicole waited impatiently for his return.

She pounced as he reentered the great room. “This is too risky, Mal. Please don't do this.”

“I'm not going to sit around doing nothing while some head case gets away with terrorizing you.” He walked restlessly past Nicole and leaned against the fireplace mantel, arms folded across his chest. The sleeves of his dark blue jersey wrapped around his flexed biceps. His long, hard legs were covered in black Lee jeans. He looked big, tough, and dangerous. Invincible. But even Superman was vulnerable to kryptonite.

Nicole wanted to pull her hair out. Or perhaps pull out Malcolm's. “Why can't you wait for me to get that chat room membership list from Scott?”

Malcolm shook his head. “Analyzing the list would take too long. Besides, we don't know whether he'll give us the list. Meanwhile, the killer knows who you are, what you look like, and where you live.”

Nicole tried willing him to be reasonable. “You're being impetuous in a life-and-death situation.”

Malcolm paced toward her, impervious to reason. “It's time to take control of the situation and turn the tables on him. I need to do this. For you. For myself.”

Nicole could feel Malcolm's will and determination and knew he was set on his course. The fight was draining out of her. She gathered her forces to try one last plea.

She cupped his cheek. “I don't want anything to happen to you.”

Malcolm held her gaze and placed his hand over hers. “I don't want anything
else
to happen to you.”

Two days later, Nicole sat in Malcolm's great room updating her calendar with her agent on the other end of the phone line.

“Are you ready for the
A.M.
L.A.
interview tomorrow?” Denise's voice sounded tinny on her speakerphone. The woman redefined multitasking.

“Not really. I don't feel mentally prepared.”

“What's to mentally prepare for?” Denise shuffled papers. Nicole could hear her automatic stapler chomping on her desk. “They always ask you the same questions, anyway.”

Amusement warmed Nicole's tone. “Thanks. I'll remember that as they're thinking up new and creative ways to torture me.”

“What are you worried about? You always do great. The real dilemma is what to wear?” Her friend sighed dramatically.

“I thought I'd wear my cream suit.”

“Well, that's a thought. Not necessarily a good one, but it's a thought.”

Nicole quirked an eyebrow. “What's wrong with my cream suit?”

“Nothingâif you're going to tea,” Denise elaborated. The crackling sounds told Nicole the other woman was stuffing envelopes. “That suit's not really helping your image. It makes you look more like a society matron than a sci-fi writer.”

Nicole didn't know whether to be amused or offended. She chose amused. She'd had enough heavy emotions for a while. “All right. All right. What would you recommend I wear?”

“Girl, I can tell you what I'd recommend you
do
. Go shopping for something new.”

Nicole didn't intend to run errands without her bodyguard, and she didn't think Malcolm had time for the trip tonight.

“Funny, Denise. I don't have time to go shopping. The interview's tomorrow. So, of the clothes I do have, what would you recommend?”

“Well, did you bring that red skirt suit?”

Nicole took the cordless phone upstairs to her closet. “No.”

“Hmm.” Denise picked up the receiver, disconnecting the speakerphone. “The sapphire blue suit won't do.”

“Good, because I didn't bring that one, either.” She rifled through her outfits. “What do you think of the emerald-green suit?”

Denise snorted. “I think you need to go shopping.”

“I like that suit.” Nicole pulled it out and held it against her. She imagined herself wearing it in front of millions of strangers. The image changed, and she saw Denise's point. She returned the suit to the closet and looked again.

“Did you bring the black pantsuit?”

“Yes.” Nicole flipped through the hangers until she found the trim suit with the nipped-waist jacket.

“Good. Wear that. Put your hair up and wear dangling earrings. You did bring dangling earrings, didn't you?”

“Yes, I did. That will look great. I wish you were here. You have a way of steadying my nerves.”

“You'll be great. Well, now that our business has been concluded, catch me up on the murder investigation.”

Nicole filled Denise in on the accident and Malcolm's plan to use the media to draw out the murderer.

“You were in the hospital?” Denise screeched. “And you didn't call me?”

Nicole winced at Denise's volume. “I'm sorry, Denise. Everything happened so fast. Today is the first day I was able to call you.”

“Humph. Well, how are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks. The headache is completely gone now.”

“Good. And I like the sound of Mal laying a trap for that gutless stalker.”

“I understand his wanting to take control away from the maniac and pull him out of the shadows. I could even buy into the planâif I wasn't afraid he'd get hurt.”

“Nicky, you're his ex-wife, not his mother. Learn the role.”

“I know I'm not his mother. But I can still worry about him.”

“Yeah, but within reason. He's a grown man.” Denise's exasperation snapped in Nicole's ear. “Someone killed his best friend and is now trying to kill his ex-wife, a woman he obviously still loves. Instead of running for cover, your man is stepping out with this challenge. You wanted a man who would stick in a crisis. He's proving he can do that and more. Instead of holding him back, you should be cheering him on.”

Nicole considered Denise's words. Had she held Malcolm back in their marriage? She knew she had a tendency to coddle the people she loved. Derrick had pointed out her habit in their relationship, and she had since backed off. Did she do the same thing to Malcolm?

“I am cheering him on.”

“Humph. Well, cheer a little louder and smother a little less.”