High School Reunion (18 page)

She studied an instant camera snapshot of Wendell hanging from the Swinging Oak. Wendell’s face looked peaceful, and it wasn’t discolored.

Another photo recorded the ground below his feet. The area was muddy, with water standing in the furrows made by footprints. A third was a close-up of his face after he’d been cut down.

“All that water. Your dad didn’t have an easy time with that crime scene.”

Cade flipped another page. “He’s got a note here saying the ground right there stays wet during most of the summer.”

Laurel jumped up, retrieved a lighted magnifying glass from her overnight bag and brought it back to the table. She studied the close-up of Wendell’s face and neck.

“What are you looking for?” Cade asked.

“Trying to get a sense of how he died. I see the bruising from the broken hyoid bone. I see marks made by the rope. What I don’t see is the lividity consistent with death by hanging.”

“Dad told me a crushed hyoid bone could cause death instantly.”

“He’s right. And that could be what happened. Does he say if he got any fingerprints?”

Cade latched on to another slice of pizza while he searched through the file. “Nope. Here are some notes. Looks like the rope was too rough, the piece of chain was badly smudged and Wendell’s skin didn’t show anything. Dad says he couldn’t lift a print.”

“We could send the chain to the FBI lab. Technology has changed a lot in the past ten years.” She picked up the photo, holding it so it caught the light and moved the magnifying glass closer. “Wait a minute. It’s hard to tell, but I think there might be two different sets of bruises on his neck.”

“Two sets? Show me.”

She held out the picture and the glass. Cade wiped his fingers on a napkin, then took the magnifying glass.

“I don’t see it. Maybe you’re seeing shadows.”

“Maybe, but this picture definitely goes to the lab. What if somebody choked him and then hanged him?”

She took a long drink of cola, then looked at the can. “Oh, man, I probably won’t sleep a wink tonight.”

Cade looked up and she had to ignore the heat in his gaze that suggested being awake all night for certain reasons might not be a bad thing.

She nodded at her drink. “Caffeine.”

He straightened and rubbed his eyes. “So stop drinking cola and turn in. It’s after twelve. If Decker sends us any of that evidence tomorrow we’re going to be busy.”

She yawned. “Not a bad idea. Are you ready for bed?”

His hot blue gaze ignited flames of awareness when he centered it on her breasts. How could he make her react just by looking at her? As if taunting her for even asking, her breasts tightened and she sucked in a sharp little breath.

Embarrassed, she jumped up. The sheet and blanket she’d used the night before were folded on the end of the couch, just like she’d left them. She picked up the sheet, but by the time she got it unfolded, Cade was by her side, reaching for it.

“I’ve got it,” she said.

“I’ll help you make up the couch.”

“No. I’ve got it.” He was too close, too big and gorgeous and sexy. And she was too near naked, with nothing but a thin layer of cotton covering her.

He reached around her to snag a corner of the sheet, and his forearm brushed her breast.

Electrified pleasure streaked through her. She was horribly afraid she’d gasped aloud again.

He froze, which for her was not a good thing. The tip of her nipple strained toward the slight pressure of his arm, increasing the tingling awareness that branched like lightning through every inch of her.

She heard a quiet, frustrated moan and was
chagrined to realize it had come from her throat. Taking a step backward, her calf hit the edge of the couch and she lost her balance.

Cade caught her before she fell. Now she was stuck in the circle of his long hard arms and in about one second his sexy woodsy scent would hit her and she’d no longer be responsible for what she did.

“Sorry—” she choked out.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured at the same time.

“I don’t—”

His hands, warm and rough—a man’s hands—wrapped around her upper arms and pulled her to him. “Do you know you’re driving me nuts?” he asked gruffly.

She shook her head. “I’m not trying—”

“I know you’re not. But could you stop?”

“Stop?” she croaked. She couldn’t move, could barely think. All she could do was stare up at him and wait to see what he would do next. Because right now her brain had left the building, and an erotic haze swirled around her, wrapping her in his masculine scent and hard body, so deliciously different from hers.

“Stop being so—aware. Stop looking at me as if you want to crawl into bed with me. Stop being so sexy and irresistible.”

Heat suffused her face and prickled her scalp. “Are you accusing me of—of
tempting
you?”

He shook his head and grimaced. “Not on purpose. But you’ve got to know what you look like in that T-shirt with that wild hair curled around your face.”

She’d forgotten to dry and straighten her hair. She must look like a redheaded Medusa.

Cade let go of her arms and stepped backward, glaring at her in exasperation. “I knew it was a bad i
dea to bring the case file home. I should have stayed at the office. I should have spent the night there.” He spiked his fingers through his short hair.

“You
are
blaming me.” The heat of embarrassment turned into heat of anger. She poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “Don’t you dare—after you forced me to stay here. After you tried to give me your—” she flung her arm out toward his bedroom “—your
bed.
”

She stuck her chin out. “I would never look at you like I wanted to crawl into bed with you. How dare you say I look sexy and—and irresistible!”

His brows shot up and that killer smile of his started to grow.

She’d had enough of his accusations and his sexy grin. She was leaving. She stomped off to the bathroom—or she tried to. Her feet tangled in the sheet and she pitched forward.

“Whoa.” He lifted her enough to free her feet, then set her down, way too close to him for comfort.

C
ADE FELT HER RIBS
expand under his fingers with each agitated breath. He knew he was acting like an idiot, but that was only because he
was
an idiot.

She was right. He was the one who’d forced her to stay here. He could have gotten her another room at the bed-and-breakfast, or let her stay with his dad.

Dad had a little trouble with certain words but he was otherwise fine. He played golf almost every day and he and Cade had gone to the firing range just a couple of weeks ago. Dad could still shoot a two-inch diameter grouping in the center of the target. Dad would have no trouble defending her.

Meanwhile, as his head swirled with all the things he should have done, Laurel wriggled enticingly. She tried to step around him, but all she managed to do was unbalanc
e them both. They went tumbling onto the couch and he ended up with her sprawled across his chest.

He found himself looking through her tumbled curls straight into her eyes. He’d been fascinated by all the different colors that danced in them from the first time he’d locked gazes with her. Green and gray and brown—shot through with amber and blue and that odd rust color. Surrounded by dark red lashes, they were stunningly beautiful.

And snapping with anger.

He felt her breasts flatten against his chest as she took a breath, but before she could unleash on him he put his palms on either side of her face and kissed her soundly. She gasped against his mouth, but he ignored that and kept on kissing her, nibbling on her lips, waiting to see if she was going to rear back and deck him.

Triumph flared when she relaxed against him. Raging desire engulfed him when she met his exploring tongue with her own. He nearly lost it when she crawled onto his lap. He’d thought he was already hard, but as she maneuvered her butt against his thighs and loins, he grew painfully rigid and pulsed with need.

“This is your fault,” she whispered against his mouth. “Not mine.”

He pulled back to gauge the expression on her face. Her voice was light and teasing, but her face reflected caution, maybe even apprehension. “I’ll take the blame,” he panted.

“You ought to be a gentleman and stop us.” Her mouth nuzzled his jawline and traced a path to his ear.

“I’m no gentleman.” His voice sounded strangled to his own ears as he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her so she could straddle him. Then he ran his palms down her hips to her thighs, stroking them gently through the thin cotton pajama pants. He made a heroic ef
fort not to strain toward her in a simulation of lovemaking. He didn’t want to scare her.

Her hands were flat against his pecs and her fingers scraped his sensitized nipples. He swallowed hard. She’d done that earlier—and surprised the hell out of him. He’d never noticed how unbearably sensitive they were.

He pushed his fingers into her curls and pulled her head down. This time he didn’t stop himself—couldn’t. As his mouth closed over hers he thrust rhythmically against her. The hindrance of their clothes made the exquisite torture even more acute.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last.

Chapter Eleven

Laurel had no idea how she’d gotten to this point. One minute she was preparing to stomp out of Cade’s house and the next they were in a heap on his couch. Despite what she’d told him, she was pretty sure that was her fault, not his.

As he kissed her deeply, he rocked against her, driving her toward a sexual mountaintop that she was sure had only one way down. To get there she first had to reach the pinnacle.

“Do you have something?”

“Something?” His fingers crawled up her ribs to the underside of her breasts. Her T-shirt might as well not have been there at all, for all the protection it gave her against his touch. As his thumbs skimmed the tips of her breasts and his hips kept up their erotic rhythm, she felt a deep sense of safety and certainty that she’d never felt before.

“Something,” she hissed. “A condom.”

His eyes opened, searing blue and heavy-lidded with passion—passion she’d put there. They widened as he assimilated what she’d said.

“I guess so—somewhere.”

“You guess so? Don’t you—”

His cheeks turned pink and he took a long breath. “Not nearly as much as you might think,” he
said. He grasped her waist and set her off him. He stood and took her hand, pulling her behind him as he headed for his bedroom.

“Looks like I’m going to get you to crawl into my bed after all.”

Laurel let him lead her into his room. She enjoyed the view from behind. His perfect bottom in those gray sweatpants, his back planed with muscle underneath his T-shirt. That enticing curve right above the waistband of his low-slung sweats made her mouth water.

Still, she couldn’t let him think he had the upper hand. “Don’t push your luck,” she rasped.

Just inside his shadowy bedroom, Cade turned and pulled her into his arms. She went willingly despite the little voice in her head telling her what a foolish thing she was doing.

He pulled off his T-shirt. Her hands followed the shirt’s tail. His skin was hot and smooth, like thick rich velvet. His flat belly rose and fell with his rapid breathing.

With no thought other than the intense longing to surround herself with him, she pressed her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder.

Breathing deeply of his intoxicating scent, she melted into his arms. Her body curled toward his heat, craving it. He pushed her shirt up, bunching the material across her shoulder blades before tugging it off and letting it fall. His fingers traced the bumps on her spine as he bent his head and kissed her shoulder.

Laurel trembled. She felt like a teenager, like she’d never felt back then. She felt new, beautiful, sexy. He wanted her. Cade Dupree, whom she’d adored with all her teenaged heart, and who had never known she existed, wanted
her.

With a sigh, he touched her collarbone, then traced a finger down between her breasts. He whispered somet
hing, she didn’t know what. All her focus was centered on his hands. Then he lifted her and lay her down on his bed.

She watched him push his sweatpants down and off. Her thighs tightened with an almost painful thrill as she saw his naked body for the first time. He was as beautiful as she’d imagined he would be—more than she’d believed any man could be.

He crawled onto the bed next to her, pressed his palm against her belly, then pulled the drawstring on her pajama pants. Sliding his fingers underneath the elastic of her panties, he pushed them down her legs. Slowly he ran his palms up her ankles, her calves, her thighs. Each place he touched burned with the fire of desire.

Stretching out next to her, he kissed her and pressed her close against his body. With his fingers he touched her, opened her, drove her to the edge of climax again and again, only to pull her back and start the journey over.

Finally, desperately, she murmured his name and felt for him. He arched his neck and moaned.

“Sorry,” she whispered, jerking her hand away.

But he shook his head. “No,” he whispered roughly. “Don’t stop. It’s good.” He took her hand in his, guiding her.

When he raised himself above her, she met his blue gaze and saw the lust and tenderness there. When he gently spread her legs and pushed into her, she cried out with sudden hot pleasure.

“Are you okay?” he whispered hoarsely.

She couldn’t speak. Her throat was choked with shock and awe and the promise of tears.

She was no virgin. She’d had a couple of intimate relationships. But nobody had ever measured up to her high-school crush. She’d never realized she’d been comparing them.

He lifted his head, frowning down at her as he touched her damp cheek.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she finally managed to say. For another instant he didn’t move, then he kissed her and took her over the edge.

T
HE SOUND OF
his cell phone pulled Cade out of a dreamless sleep. He rolled over to reach for it and encountered firm, supple flesh.