“Has it been hard being away from your family?”
“Not really. My brother and sister are married and busy with their lives. My father, well I talk with him often enough, and see him on holidays. We have more in common than you realize—you and me. My mother is gone. She died when I was four.”
Pain flashed in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was for him or for her loss. Maybe both. And suddenly he wished he hadn’t brought up the subject. “How?” she whispered.
He paused, hating what came next. “Cancer,” he said softly. “Sorry. Bad subject.”
Lindsey smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. She reached up and touched Mark’s jaw. “No worries. I’ve, of course, thought of his death. The other day, when I went to see him, he didn’t look good.” She seemed to fret a moment. “Do you think it is harder to lose someone you are close to or someone you, well, someone you never seem to get it right with?”
He took a sip of his wine and thought about the best way to answer her. “I don’t know, Lindsey, but if you can manage to put your relationship back together with him, this would be a good time to do it.”
A wave of emotion danced in her eyes. “The only way to make things better with him is if I live my life his way.”
Mark sat down his wine glass. “I’m not suggesting you make choices that aren’t your own. Just be careful you don’t make choices just to defy his control. You’ve had some time away, and deep down you, and you alone, know what you really want. Make him understand and accept your choices.”
Lindsey turned abruptly and tucked her knees to her body, chin on her knees. “That’s just it . . . I don’t know what I want anymore.” She eyed him. “I can’t believe I’m even telling you this.”
His fingers gently touched her cheek. He wasn’t going to comment on what she did or didn’t tell him. He was just glad she was opening up to him. “You don’t have to make decisions right this minute. Give yourself time, but give him time too. Start talking to him about why you feel like you do. The worst that can happen is he doesn’t listen.”
Lindsey looked at him, her eyes probing as they held his. “What do you want from me, Mark?”
It was a vast question that he could have answered so many ways. Simple seemed best. “Nothing you don’t offer freely.”
Her lashes dropped to her cheeks, dark circles against her perfect, ivory skin. When she opened her eyes again, fixing him in a stare, she smiled. “I’m glad I’m here tonight.”
“Me too,” he whispered, and he lowered his mouth towards hers. “I really want to make love to you again, Lindsey.” His lips lingered just above hers. “Can I?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’d like that very much.”
And his mouth covered hers, their kiss one of tenderness, passion, and possibilities.
Chapter Seven
Lindsey woke to the warm feeling of Mark’s strong arms wrapped around her. Nuzzled against his shoulder and chest, his scent wrapped around her like a cozy blanket. Running her hand through his chest hair and down his flat stomach she couldn’t help the satisfied smile that settled on her lips. There was never a time she could remember feeling so perfectly wonderful nor could she remember ever wanting a man the way she did Mark.
Needing her own identity, not wanting to be defined within the confines of a relationship, it had been years since she had even been with a man. Somehow, Mark seemed different than the men in her past. Would things change when he became more comfortable with her?
Was he simply like the rest but with a better disguise?
The dull ringing of her cell phone broke into her thoughts. It was in her purse, which was still in the living room. “Damn,” she murmured as she moved to get out of the bed only to feel Mark’s arms tighten around her.
“Where are you going?” he whispered, half-asleep.
Lindsey smiled and kissed his cheek. “My phone’s ringing. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded. “Hurry back,” he murmured.
Lindsey grabbed Mark’s shirt off the floor, and pulled it over her head. The ringing had stopped, so she didn’t rush. Once in the living room, she sat down on the couch, removed her phone from her purse, and checked the caller ID.
Just as she thought, it had been Steve. Lindsey hit the callback button and he picked up in only one ring. “Listen,” he said without saying hello. “I’ve got some interesting information. There was a string of rapes in Vegas last year that fit the Hudson profile.”
“Really?” Lindsey paused, her mind racing with possibilities. “They fit the Williams profile then, too.”
A moment of silence and then, “Except they were raped, not raped and then murdered.”
At this point, Lindsey was convinced there was reason to check out the possibility of a connection. She dismissed his comment and asked, “What information can you get me?”
“I can give you names, addresses, and general information on the victims, but not much more. I know they have no suspects.”
“When was the last attack?”
“Almost a year ago—here’s the odd part—not long before the first victim in your case was found.”
Lindsey’s mind raced with options. The possibility of the Hudson and Williams cases being related had just moved to the possible scale. The implications the new knowledge represented made her stomach churn. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Steve’s voice held a warning. “Lindsey, I think you need to turn this information over to the right people. The Williams’ murders were violent. I don’t want you taking crazy risks.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I need some time, Steve, please. Once the prosecutors know about this, I’ll have a much harder time uncovering what is truth and what is colored over.”
“You have a history of pushing beyond what you should. Lindsey, these girls all look like you. I don’t like it.” He made a frustrated sound. “Not one bit.”
Lindsey knew she pushed the envelope. “I’ll be careful. Just give me a couple days.”
He was silent a moment, then in a softer voice, “How long are you going to pay back the world for Hudson? When are you going to forgive yourself?”
She swallowed back the threatening emotion. When she felt she had herself in check, she said, “Give me a few days.”
His hesitation was silent but it reached through the phone line. “Three days and no more, and I want to be kept in the loop. The minute you shut me out, I shut you down.”
Lindsey didn’t like being held captive by Steve or anyone else, but her options were limited. “Fine,” she conceded.
“How about we meet at that coffee shop you love, and I’ll give you what I have. Say,” he paused as if looking at his watch, “in an hour?”
A quick goodbye later, Lindsey hit the end button on her phone, and curled her legs underneath her body. Her thoughts were running wild. Could Hudson and Williams be innocent? She hated to even think such a thing. What if she was wrong?
But what if she wasn’t and she didn’t pursue the real criminal? How many women might die?
“What are you doing?”
Lindsey looked up to see Mark standing a few feet away; dressed in only his boxers, he was a picture of rippling, perfect male. It took her a minute to find her voice. Mark so took her breath away. “Just sitting here thinking.”
He walked to the couch, and her eyes followed his every step. He sat down beside her, and pulled her legs across his lap. It was an intimate, comfortable act that made her smile inside. His hand ran up her bare leg. “You look good in my shirt.”
She smiled and spread one hand on his chest, loving how it felt to touch him so freely. “You look good without it.”
Mark laughed and brushed his lips across hers. “Who was on the phone?”
She drew back slightly, eager to tell him her news, and watch his reaction. “Steve,” she said. “Get this. There was a string of rapes that fit the Hudson and Williams profiles in Vegas last year. They never connected anything to Hudson, of course, because he was in jail.”