Dewey warned Karin out of her deep contemplation by lifting his head from his paws and then stalking out. By the time Dave got there, she was waiting for him-still sitting cross-legged, still holding the clues Ellen had left. Things that had meant nothing to her when she’d packed them up but now suddenly meant everything.
Dave waited in the doorway, as if sensing this was her most private space. More private, even, than the bedroom.
Not that she’d had visitors to either.
“Hey,” he said, leaning against the door frame, a casual posture for someone who couldn’t possibly feel casual inside. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but…we need to talk.”
“Hey,” she said. Odd to see him there, draped in the doorway with all his innate grace and still wearing his sweatshirt as though it were designer goods. She could feel his presence from here…a baffling awareness. What was she supposed to do with that?
Enjoy it.
She blinked at the unexpected little voice in her head.
Huh.
He rubbed that spot below his lip, just above the cleft in his chin. Not a Kirk Douglas dimple, a more subtle thing at the bottom of an angled jaw. It balanced his nose-a strong nose, at that-and somehow always drew her eyes to his mouth.
At least it did when he hadn’t already caught her gaze, holding it in silence as he so often did. Like now. Then that mouth went wryly crooked. “I know you’ve been through a lot, Ellen, but…I’m running out of time. Rashawn is running out of time. I’ve got to go back…and I want you to come.”
She gave her next line on cue…the line that would make sense if she was who she’d told him she was. “You still think I’ll remember something?”
Dave gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know. But it’s not safe for you to stay here by yourself. Not now. And that’s my fault.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “We’ve established that.” Not that he had any true idea of the potential ramifications. Of course, he was so damned honest that if he had even an inkling of her warrant, he’d probably put her on a plane to California himself.
That’s not fair, said her pesky little voice. He might believe you didn’t do whatever Rumsey claims you did. He might even help you.
As if she could take the chance.
She was hardly the innocent. She might not have done what the warrant claimed, but she’d done plenty. The long-term scams were her specialty, but she’d pulled plenty of high-pressure investment scams. She’d muled for Rumsey, she’d picked pockets when she was younger…she’d done plenty. She’d done it to survive and she felt no particular guilt even though she’d been ready to leave it behind.
That, she suspected, would bother Dave most of all.
She savored the physical tension between them. If he wasn’t leaving until tomorrow, then there was the rest of the afternoon…the evening…
Take what you can get.
It had always been a motto of sorts.
Her glance fell upon the items in her hand. She looked over at him, gestured with them.
He took the invitation, coming in to kneel beside her when he saw the nature of what she had, exhaling with the surprise of it. She offered the photo; he took it, holding it out at a distance.
“Need those glasses?” she asked.
He shook his head, his mouth gone tight. “Do you know who this is?”
“Longsford,” she said, her inflection saying isn’t it obvious? even if her words didn’t.
His finger-abraded and bruised from the cliffhanger antics-stabbed at the picture. “No. The boy. Terry Williams.”
Karin looked away. “Crap.” And then, still looking away, said, “Check the date book.”
He did. Something like wonder came into his voice. “You were going to call me.” It changed to demand. “Why the hell didn’t you?”
Karin pointed at the next day. “There,” she said. “My sister reached me. She…was in trouble. She lived with my stepfather. But my stepfather isn’t a nice man, and she finally needed a way out. I left that day to get her.” So odd to talk about herself in that way…but somehow also a relief. She could tell him of herself without truly revealing anything at all. Her finger then traveled across the page, stopping at the day Ellen had died. “Here. The accident. By the time I got back home, that note meant nothing to me. ‘Hi, is this Dave Hunter? Who are you, and do you know why I was going to call you?’”
Dave ran his finger over the photograph. “Damn,” he said softly.
“Isn’t that photo enough? Won’t it help?”
He stilled, thinking about it, and then shifted beside her, settling into a cross-legged position like her own. He didn’t need to shake his head for Karin to know the answer. “Someone else, we might pull in for questioning with evidence like this. Longsford is too highly connected. When we go for him, we’ve got to have the case already made. But this is one more piece.” He flipped the photo over, checking for notes, and then gestured with it. “Can I take it?”
“It’s all yours.”
He nodded his thanks. “If I’d had any doubts about him…”
That surprised her. “Did you?”
His smile was grim and weary. “No. But I’m the only one. There’s a reason they didn’t officially bring me in to consult.”
She realized for the first time that he was doing this on his own time. Scraping around without Bureau resources, trying to find Rashawn before it was too late.
He looked over at her-caught her eye in that way he had. “You’ll come with me?”
She hesitated. She didn’t need his help…she could easily wait until he left and then do what she’d planned in the first place, hide out as someone else until the threat was over.
But if Longsford wasn’t caught, then the threat would never end. Not now, once he’d decided she was a threat. Especially not if he wanted to continue his little hobby.
She was going to have to tell Dave. To offer him the help Ellen couldn’t give him.
And when he learned who she really was, what she’d really done with her life, this man who now sat so comfortably beside her, who’d offered her his warmth and his kisses…then he’d look at her in an entirely different way.
Take what you can get.
Something must have shown on her face. The wistfulness…the want. And he had it, too. He said, “Hey.” The same way he’d announced himself at her door, but somehow an entirely different word.
“Hey,” she said softly. Had they moved closer together? Yeah. Definitely. With the want growing between them, reminiscent of their connection in the henhouse and quickly going beyond. She said what she’d said then, trusting him to catch it. “You like this with all your witnesses?”
Give the man credit, he didn’t need a Clue Bat. “No,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I’m like this with…you.”
They reached for each other at the same time, fingers tangling in hair, lips meeting with inexplicable familiarity. Her cast rested awkwardly against his neck, but when she ran her fingernails over the skin behind his ear he still froze for an instant. Then he nudged her backward, shoving the box out of the way. She went gladly and brought him with her, no hesitations…just want. She offered him full, hard kisses, half trapped under his body-and she suddenly felt bereft from the waist down. No warmth, no weight…no heat. Then his hand slid down her ribs-carefully, still somehow thinking of her battered state-and up her shirt and already she strained, lifting herself with the expectation until his hand cradled her breast. Oh, yeah. She dropped her head back, giving him free access to her throat.
Mistake. That Dave Hunter integrity was still at work, and she’d given him just enough space to think about it. “Ellen,” he said, and the doubt came through clearly enough.
“Don’t even think it!” she said fiercely. “I’m not even a witness anymore, not really. And you’re not getting away this time.”
He laughed, propped on his elbow long enough to clear her face of the hair that had somehow become tangled between them; gently, he disengaged a strand. “Gee,” he said, amused in his mild sarcasm. “If you’re sure…”
She put his hand back on her breast-as close as she could get it, hindered by her cast-and pulled his head back down. Firmly. His lips barely touching hers, he murmured, “I guess you’re sure.”
In response, she levered herself up and rolled them both over. It was noisy and ungraceful and full of intent, and when she was done she straddled him.
Dave didn’t appear to notice. Too busy helping her yank his sweatshirt over his head, and then too busy hissing through his teeth as she found the flat of his nipple and scratched it lightly; he thrust up against her to create instant lightning in all the places that were rapidly becoming the most important parts of her body. Except…
Too many clothes. She wiggled in a wordless demand and his hands clenched on her hips, his head tipping back and a delightful groan working its way through clenched teeth. A man who knew what he liked…who knew how to let go and enjoy it. But still too many clothes. “Off!” she demanded, reduced to one-word sentences. She unsnapped her jeans, fumbling to unbutton his until he took over. They separated long enough to shuck their jeans and then she was right back with him, sinking into the satisfaction of almost-contact, wrapping herself around the heat of his erection through his dark boxers. She moved against him, body thrumming, and gave no quarter as he reached for his jeans, his wallet-and then arched in helpless reaction as she reached behind herself to give him an intimate tickle.
So she did it again, and then leaned down to nibble the throat he’d just exposed.
“Lord!” he said. “You-”
She laughed into the curve where his neck met his shoulders, taking in the scent of him. But he hadn’t lost himself entirely; he dropped his wallet to grab her hips and lift his own, angling them together so perfectly she cried out at the intensity of it. “Two can play that game,” he told her.
She groped for that wallet. This was what she’d wanted, what her body had been reaching for, each and every time she’d felt the connection between them. Across the room, in a crowded henhouse, over pancakes at breakfast…this was the silent language they’d been speaking to each other. “Now,” she told him. “Now, now, now.”
Panting, his ice blue eyes alight with laughter and desire, he said again, “If you’re sure-”
She knew the only answer to that. She ran her hand up the inside of his thigh, sneaking in under his boxers. He instantly snatched the wallet up, pulled out the condom lurking within and covered himself, not bothering to remove the boxers. Karin did her best to make it a challenge, scraping her nails lightly up his thigh, high enough to make him react and gasp and tighten-but he laughed, too, short and breathless, enjoying her.
And then he didn’t bother with her underwear, which she wouldn’t have predicted anyone could just yank aside like that but who cared, not when they finally came together. Together. They spent a few luxurious moments learning the feel of each other-hard and soft, getting acquainted-and started to move. Nothing slow about that, not with the two of them so explosive, so full of coiling energy. Karin arched into him, braced her hands on his thighs and threw her head back. They danced together, fast and hard and quickly building, until all her strength drained from her fingers and toes and spiraled inward and Dave’s thighs tightened beneath her hands, raising them both.
It was impulse that made her clench her knees to his side, stopping them in mid-thrust. Impulse that made her close down around him so he gave a surprised little cry, neck straining, fingers reaching and needy and headed for the juncture of her thighs. She did it again and he froze, arching upward, trembling, still reaching for her, pulsing in response to her.
A long moment she held them that way, neither of them quite breathing, the intimacy of their connection almost unbearable, a pulsing focal point of-
“Now,” she whispered, and moved. He gave a great cry, a strangled sound…a startled sound. And he finally reached her, a single touch, and she cried out with him.
He should have been spent after that…Karin was, as limp as a noodle and not sure whether to fall forward or simply to finish falling backward to lie like an acrobat atop his knees. He made the decision for her, pulling her forward to kiss her with a surprising intensity. She thought it might be a thank you…she thought it might be his way of making certain he didn’t take her lightly. Either was fine with her and she kissed him back until they had so little breath left there was no choice.
She lay across his chest, taking a brief moment to regret that she’d never gotten her shirt off, never felt his hands on her bare breasts. Next time.
Except there wasn’t likely to be a next time. She was running out of time. She’d have to tell him who she really was…and the man who thought he’d made love to Ellen might well not want to make love to Karin. Karin who’d lied to him…deceived him…
For once, quite suddenly, she was grateful to Rumsey. He was the one who’d taught her to grab opportunities, to rely on her instinct…to avoid thinking things to death when the moment was right. And nothing…nothing could be more right than this. Whatever happened next. Nothing could take this moment away. She kissed his collarbone, drawing on enough energy to run her hand down the crisp of blond hair that covered his chest. “I changed my mind,” she said, lazy and satisfied. “This wasn’t a good idea at all.”
He laughed, as much as he could with her weight on his chest and a slight tremble still reverberating through his body, and he kissed the top of her head. “You’re right,” he said, and his voice tickled her ear. “That didn’t work out well in the least. We should never do it again.”
“Ever,” she said…and prepared to do it again.