He looked down at her, and despite the dimness of the light, she could see the desire he felt, just as she had seen it in her kitchen. She’d talked herself out of acting then, a flare of second thoughts making her bolt. Afraid he would be as controlling as the men in her past. Afraid she was lost to him if she gave in to her attraction.
But there was no way to hide from this moment.
Flattening his hands on her back, pulling even closer, he molded them together. And she didn’t fight him, silently giving her approval of his actions. Her heart was racing, pounding so loudly in her chest, she wondered if he could hear, or at this proximity, feel it.
Her hand settled on his chest, fingers spread. They stared at one another, a mutual understanding, a need, shared in those moments. Both knew what the other wanted.
“Hey there kitty, how are you?” A woman’s voice made Lindsey stiffen as she listened, never taking her eyes from Mark’s. The voice was loud. Close. “I brought you your favorite food. You miss Roger, I bet, huh?”
Mark slowly moved his hands up her back, sliding them around her waist, and then up her sides, barely skimming her breasts. Lindsey almost gasped from the sudden, intimate touch. Mark smiled down at her with a challenge in his eyes. Surely, he knew he’d already won. She was ready to surrender.
It was pure madness, but standing in a closet, about to be caught for breaking and entering, his every little move impacted her with such intensity, it took Lindsey’s breath away.
His eyes were full of suggestion, and Lindsey felt her body responding with a resounding YES. The only thing keeping Lindsey from completely losing control and attacking Mark was the voice on the other side of the door.
“Little kitty, eat up! I can’t stay tonight. I have to go see your Daddy.” The woman was talking in a baby voice to the cat. Lindsey started to roll her eyes, but then she heard the sobs. The woman was crying. Lindsey’s heart sank. She felt the pain of Roger’s sister as if it were her own.
Suddenly Lindsey felt the tickling of a sneeze. Panic formed and overwhelmed her as she struggled to stifle her urge. Just as suddenly as the sneeze had snuck up on her, so did Mark’s lips. Hungrily they met hers and she accepted them, her sneeze disappearing without a trace, passion replacing it in equally uncontrollable dimensions.
It was a long, sweet kiss that tasted of desire and temptation. His flavor was perfection, even better than she remembered, and she wanted him to keep kissing her. God, she wanted to do a whole lot more than kiss.
For a few moments she forgot they were in a stranger’s house, forgot the investigation, and even forgot Paxton. His kiss was like a drug, making her out of control, consuming in its potency. Whatever walls her mind built to protect her from Mark, her body dismissed. The chemistry between them was like a live charge. Leaning into him she could feel every inch of his long, hard body. The sound of a door slamming jerked their lips apart. For several seconds they stared at each other, both breathing heavier than normal.
“She’s gone,” Lindsey whispered but didn’t move out of his arms.
His answer came slow. “Yes, I believe she is.”
“Uh, we should get out of here.” She all but stammered the words. Still she didn’t move.
“I suppose we should,” he said, in a husky voice as he pulled her tighter against his body and lightly brushed his lips against hers. Then, nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “Mission accomplished.”
And she knew he was talking about winning her surrender.
* * * * *
Standing at the door of Elizabeth Moore’s apartment, now maintained by her former roommate, Lindsey felt a tightening in her chest. One of the things she hated the most about her involvement in criminal law was the pain of the family and friends of the victims. At the same time, it was that very thing that had driven her to get out of bed each day. Fighting for justice was the only thing that could be done to help. And if that meant getting an innocent person set free, then so be it. At least, then, attention would be turned to finding the real criminal.
The door opened, revealing a young woman with dark hair and eyes, and a less than welcoming expression on her pale face. “Can I help you?” Her tone mimicked the look on her face. Dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt she appeared to be in typical college hangout attire.
“Ms. Vicky Kencade?” Mark asked.
“Who wants to know?” she shot back, propping one foot on top of the other, arms hugging her thin body.
“Au-choo.” Lindsey sneezed, covering her mouth in an abrupt action. “Excuse me,” Lindsey said with a sniffle. “Cat allergy,” she explained trying to fight off another sniffle. “We are investigating the murder of Elizabeth Moore. I’m Lindsey Paxton,” she said and waved a hand towards Mark, “and he’s Mark Reeves.”
“I’ve already told the police everything I know.”
Lindsey really wanted to hear what this woman had to say. Telling her they were defense counsel wasn’t likely to help. “Can we just ask a few more questions? We’re attorneys and it’s our job to go to court and help the jury make a good decision.” Lindsey hoped Vicky would assume they were prosecutors.
When the door was suddenly opened to them, she was relieved. Success. She and Mark exchanged a look before Lindsey stepped into the apartment with him at her heels. Quickly scrutinizing her surroundings , Lindsey found it typical college living: small, with homemade wall hangings and posters, as well as second-hand furniture.
Feet planted in the middle of the living room, Vicky faced them. “I’m so glad that freak is in custody. I want him to hang for what he did to Elizabeth. Tell me what I can do to help.”
She motioned towards a plaid, worn couch, and Mark and Lindsey sat down. Vicky dropped to the floor as if to gain a comfortable distance from them. She pressed her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
“Ms. Kencade, did you ever meet Mr. Williams?” Mark asked in a quiet voice.
“Yeah, the night Elizabeth was killed. He came in for coffee after a tutoring session.”
“You were here when Mr. Williams came by?” Lindsey asked, as she pulled a pad of paper and pen from her briefcase.
“Yes,” she said with a deep sigh. “He seemed nice enough. I would never have guessed what a real bastard he was.” Her voice reeked with bitterness.
“Why did you think he was nice?” Lindsey asked.
“He seemed to really care about Elizabeth. She was hurting over her mother’s death and had these crying spells. Something set her off in the tutoring session. She was upset. He seemed really concerned that she get home safely.”
“Were you here when he left?” Mark questioned.
“Yes, actually I was.”
Lindsey’s expression held surprise. “So you saw him leave, and Elizabeth was unharmed?” Mark put a hand on her shoulder as if in warning. She understood. Vicky might decide they were the enemy, if she wasn’t careful, and then they wouldn’t get anything more from her.
Vicky was frowning. “Well, yeah, but Elizabeth decided to go out after he left that night. I guess he followed her.”
Mark raised a questioning brow. “Out?”
“Yes, to a club called the Pink Panther,” the girl stated.
“Did you two go there often?” Mark asked.
Vicky nodded. “Yeah, it’s the spot we hang at, if you know what I mean.”
“Did you know any of the other victims?” Lindsey asked.
“I knew of one of the other girls. I saw her around a lot. Mandy Gibson. We didn’t hang or anything.”
“Was Ms. Moore seeing anyone?” Mark asked.
“Her and her boyfriend broke up a few months before . . . um,” she paused and looked down at her hands which started to shake, “you know, she died.”
Lindsay’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. I know how difficult reliving all of this can be. We’ll try and hurry.” When Vicky nodded, seeming to pull herself together, she continued, “This guy she was seeing, was the breakup easy, hard . . . ?”