Extreme Exposure (17 page)

When he came out of the bathroom, Emily was sitting on the end of her bed. Heart hammering in his chest, he said, “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

“Yes.” She stared down at her hands and when she spoke her voice was flat. “It’ll help if you give me some pointers, but I think I can do it on my own.” She looked up, hopeful. “What are you going to do?”

Closing his eyes, he pinched his nose. “I still have to find out who’s behind all this.”

Standing up, she stared at him. “What? Why?”

“If I don’t find out, I’d have to disappear, too.” He took a breath. “I can’t do that. I can’t just leave everything, my company…”

She shuffled back a few steps.

Her swallowed hard. “Did you think I would come with you?”

Red blotches appeared on her face. “Of course not. I thought you would go back to Boston.”

“They know who I am. They’ll find me.”

She leaned against the wall and sank slowly to the floor, covering her face with both hands.

He knelt in front of her and put a hand on her knee.

When she spoke her voice was a hoarse whisper. “I am so sorry. Never in a million years did I expect this to happen.”

He wiped a tear from her cheek. “I know that. It’s not your fault.”

For some reason, it wasn’t the right thing to say because she started sobbing uncontrollably. He shifted to her right side, put his arm around her, and pulled her close, stroked her hair with his left hand.

He said, “We’ve got to find somewhere safe for you to hide out.” There was another reason for doing that. It was bad enough spending night after night in motel rooms trying to keep a distance. Now, despite the mounting danger, all he could think about was getting her in bed. That could get them both killed.

Her head jerked back and she looked at him with watery eyes. “What do you mean? I’m not going to hide out.”

It was his turn to be surprised. “You just said you would.”

Breaking away, she jumped to her feet. “That was when I thought you were leaving. Since you’re not, I’m hardly going to go hide out. Whatever happened to being in this together?”

He stood up. “I’m not saying we’re finished. You don’t have to hide out forever, depending on what happens.” The thought of her being in any more danger nauseated him.

“You are such a jerk.” She glared at him a moment before turning to the door.

He caught her hand. “Where are you going?”

“For a walk. I have to get out of here.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Am I missing something here? I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And it’s okay if you do?” She pulled her hand away, rubbed her wrists. “How does that make sense?”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. I just feel protective of you.”

“You don’t think I can look after myself, is that it?” Eyes lit with anger, she turned toward the door again.

Scratching the back of his head, he studied her. “So now you’re going to go? Is that it? Just walk out?”

“It was a mistake, right from the start, trusting you. Letting you get close.”

He scoffed. “You haven’t let me get close. You’ve done everything you could not to let me get close.”

He had hit a nerve. She froze, seemed to be trying to think of something to say.

He pushed. “Why is that?”

“Why are you making this my fault?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’re avoiding the question. Why won’t you let me get close?”

“This is hardly the time to be having this discussion.”

“You want to get close. I can see it.”

She looked down, not saying anything. He waited, let the silence stretch between them. When she looked up, all traces of anger had vanished, replaced not by that cool and collected game face he’d expected, but by a look so raw and unfiltered his heart clenched.

She said, “Because if you get too close, you’re not going to like what you see.” Her eyes, deep and vulnerable, burned holes into him.

Walking over, he took her hand, recognizing the courage it took for her—especially for her—to expose that vulnerability. “It’s the opposite. The closer I get, the more I like what I see.”

She stood frozen in place, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

He said, “I think you’re the smartest, gutsiest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. What’s not to like? Never mind that I can barely keep my hands off you.” She stood, open-mouthed, not seeming to believe him, unidentifiable emotions flashing across her face. He said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She said, with a kind of desperation, “You know, the usual, what a mess I’ve made of everything.”

Tilting his head, he looked at her closely. “Did you ever think it might be the other way around, that things have made a mess of you?”

Her moist, expressive eyes looked huge in that pale face. “I think that’s just about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He smirked. “Really? It wasn’t
that
nice.” The soft swell of her breasts was clearly visible under her T-shirt. He clenched his fists to stop himself from reaching for her.

She said, “It’s funny what you said about having trouble keeping your hands off me.” Something new and dark lit those eyes.

“Why is that funny?” he said, throat dry.

“I was thinking the same thing about you.” She wet her lips, and reached up to stroke his cheek with long, pale fingers.

Her touch sent a surge of blood racing to his groin. Standing on her toes, she brought her lips to his. He shouldn’t, he knew that, but couldn’t stop himself. He’d waited too long. Sucking in a breath, he kissed those warm, soft lips, wanting to go slowly, taste every inch. His hand stroked the silky white skin of her neck.

Tentative at first, she put her arms around his neck and drew him close, swirling her tongue in his mouth and pressing herself against him. She was hurrying, trembling fingers struggling with the button of his jean shorts.

Pulling away, he looked into those gorgeous smoldering eyes. “Emily…”

Her hand went to her lips and she stumbled back. “Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Are you sure you want to do this? No regrets?”

She was breathing heavily, the soft swell of her breasts rising and falling through the T-shirt. “No regrets.”

“Okay, not too fast.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Blood rose in her cheeks and she pulled her arms tightly across her chest. “I’m nervous, I-I’m out of practice.”

“It’s okay.”

She backed away and a hot flush crept up her neck. “Well, I can’t really say that I’m out of practice, because that makes it sound like at some point I was in practice. And that is clearly not the case.”

“I don’t want somebody practiced. I want you, Emily. I knew the moment I first saw you, I wanted you. But I don’t want quick and dirty, not this time. I want every square inch of you.”

Chest heaving, she stared at him.

He sat on the bed and held a hand out to her. “Come here.”

Taking his hand, she stood between his legs, looking down. Tilting his head up, he put his mouth on hers, felt her soft, moist breath. Nibbling her lips, she gave a little whimper as his tongue found hers.

Running his fingers through her hair, the kiss deepened. As she sucked gently on his tongue, he felt his erection pushing against his fly.

“Take off your shirt,” he said in a gruff voice.

Pulling back, she lifted her T-shirt over her neck, stood before him in a white bra, a lacy thing with a pink bow in the middle. He traced his finger down her neck to the soft mound of a breast. A low moan escaped her throat and she arched her head back. Leaning in, he pulled down the fabric of the bra and thumbed her hard, pink nipple as more moans escaped her lips.

After a minute, he took off his shirt, and she unhooked her bra, exposing firm, round breasts. Those innocent eyes on him, she put her palms against his chest, drew wide circles. He left a trail of kisses on her breast until his mouth found a stiff nipple and began sucking it. After a long moment, he shifted back on the bed. Still sitting up, he drew her onto his lap, her knees on either side of him.

A sound came from the hallway outside. They froze, turned to listen as somebody entered the next room. The television came on.

He looked at Emily and smiled.

Still feeling shy, she said, “Can we get under the covers?”

She shifted off him and he stood up, reached over, and pulled back the sheets. “You get in first. I want to be on this side, because of my arm.”

He slipped in beside her and put his arm under her head. She moved closer, so that she was on her side, facing him. Her eyes had flecks of brown and blue amid the green.

Molding her body to his, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His rough hand followed the curve of her waist down to the soft slope of her hip. Blood rushed through him and the need to be inside her was like an ache. He wondered how in the hell he was going to take this slowly.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

E
mily lay curled up in bed, her mind floating on a blissful cloud, her body sore in all the right places. Matt was talking on a cell phone on the balcony, but the door was closed and she couldn’t hear him. He must have had a shower, because his hair was wet and tousled and he had a white towel wrapped around his waist.

The bedside clock said it was after nine. Shadowy morning light filtered in the west-facing window. She hadn’t slept that well for weeks. Who knew sex could be like that, so intense physically and emotionally? Remembering her legs wrapped around that waist, the feel of him sleek and hard inside her, heat rose under her skin and she felt herself become wet.

Whew.

She got out of bed, crept into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. When she came out, wearing a bathrobe, he was still on the phone.

Five minutes later, finished with the cell phone call, he came back in the room, walked over and kissed her.

“How long have you been awake?” she said, reaching over to brush hair off his face.

“A couple of hours.” Worry edged his voice and he seemed distracted.

“What’s wrong? Who were you talking to on the phone?”

“My sister,” he muttered. “My father’s in the hospital.”

Her heart caught. “Is he okay?”

“I think so, for now at least. He has really bad stomach pain and some sort of obstruction. They’re trying to figure out whether he needs surgery or not. She doesn’t really know much more than that right now.”

A queasy feeling rose in her stomach. “You should go.”

“She’s going to give me a call later, when she knows more. As it stands right now, I don’t think I have to go, at least not right away.” He ran a hand through his hair.

She said, “I’ll be okay.”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving. I can’t anyway, at least until I talk to the police. They’re expecting me in two hours.”

She backed away. “How is your arm?”

“I should get something for it, take the edge off.” He sat down on the bed. “I was talking to a friend from home who works for the
Boston Globe
. She called someone she knew at the Riverton paper, a reporter. He checked the court records here to see if there was anything on Celia. Apparently he’s got good contacts, people who let him know stuff, but they couldn’t find anything.”

“Maybe there was no such thing. Maybe Jason was wrong, or was lying. Maybe it has nothing to do with what happened to Amber anyway.” Sitting down on the other bed, across from him, she fidgeted with the bedspread, tried to rein in a mounting feel of hopelessness.

He lifted the bedside phone. “Let me order some breakfast from room service. We can take another look at Amber’s notes. Something Jason said is eating away at the back of my mind. I just can’t put my finger on what it was.”

“Just let me run out and get you some pain relievers.”

“That’s okay, it’s not that bad.”

While he phoned room service, she grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom and changed. When she came out, Matt had changed into shorts and a T-shirt and was sitting on the bed looking at the notes.

She didn’t know what it was—his father’s illness, pain from his broken arm, or frustration with the investigation, maybe a combination of the three—but he seemed preoccupied and distant. His life had been turned upside down, all because of her. Was he questioning whether it was worth it? She likely would be, if she were in his position. A couple of hours of hot sex wouldn’t change that.

Her heart shivered, the blissful peace she had felt half an hour earlier gone, leaving in its place something cold and forlorn.

There was a sound in the hallway outside their door. She darted a glance at Matt.

He said, “Probably just room service. I told them to leave the food outside.”

It was room service. They tucked into omelets and coffee. After, sitting on the bed with a second cup of coffee, she picked up Amber’s notebook again. There were some pages she hadn’t even looked at yet. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she should be getting back to business.

She said, “Jason said something about Amber thinking she was getting too much money in the settlement.”

Matt looked up, brows furrowed. “Now that you mention it, he did, didn’t he? Most people don’t complain about that sort of thing. And didn’t Celia say she gave half of it in her will to the place she worked at?”

She nodded. “So Jason was right about that. But I can’t see why somebody would kill her for complaining that the settlement was too much money.”

“We have to get that lawyer, Ackerman, to talk to us. Maybe we should drop by his office, after I get back from talking to the cops.”

He put down his coffee cup. “I’m going to slip out and get us some clothes. Any preferences? I’ll be back within half an hour. Put the chain on the door when I’ve gone, okay?”

Smiling, he leaned down to kiss her on the lips. But there were tight lines around the corners of his mouth, and he still looked distracted, as if he’d already moved on.

*  *  *

Matt opened the bottle of Tylenol, popped two in his mouth, and took a long swig of water. Emily, who had let him back into the hotel room a minute earlier, was giving her full attention to the papers fanned out across the bed in front of her.