released him. He tried not to think about how much better it
had felt with her warmth touching him.
"How long are you in town?" she asked.
"I'm here until Christmas day. I'll be heading out that
afternoon."
"You have to leave on Christmas?"
He nodded. "I'm bidding a big job, and the client wants to
meet on Christmas evening."
"Who would want to work on Christmas if they didn't have
to?"
"Someone who doesn't celebrate Christmas. He's a
Jehovah's witness."
"Ah. I see. To him, it's just another day."
"Right."
Nicolette seemed at a loss for what to say next. She
glanced around the room, then back up at him, a worried
frown tugging at her brow. He reached out and took her
hands in his. They felt like she'd been ice fishing without a
pole.
"Is everything okay?" he asked quietly.
She smiled, but it was small and forced. "Of course. I
mean, I miss Rudy like crazy, but other than that,
everything's fine. Why?"
Heath searched her eyes, noting a hint of fear before she
let her lashes fall over them. "You seem upset, distracted,
maybe a little scared."
"Scared?" Her laugh was as forced as her smile. "What do
I have to be scared of in a room full of people?"
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He moved his hands up her arms and felt a shudder run
through her body. Something was definitely not right. He
made his voice hard, authoritative, and tightened his grip. "I
don't know, Nicolette, why don't you tell me?"
She flinched, and his guilt increased. Damn. He hadn't
been around her for five minutes, and he was already making
a mess of things. He tried again, "If there's something
bothering you, if you have a problem, I want to help."
"I'm fine," she insisted.
"You don't seem fine. I think you're lying." He didn't know
why he was so certain she was in some kind of trouble, but
he was.
The right side of her mouth lifted in a humorless smile.
"You always did say what was on your mind, didn't you?"
Not always, Heath thought, I didn't tell you I loved you
before it was too late.
Aloud, he said, "Just remember—if you need me, I'm
here."
She lifted a hand, running her fingertips down the side of
his face and his heart sped up. "You always were, weren't
you?" she whispered.
"Yeah. And don't forget that, okay?"
Before she could answer, a voice behind Heath said,
"Nicolette. We've been looking for you."
The man was about Heath's age, well-groomed with sandy
blond hair and a big, toothy smile. A small, curvy, red-haired
woman stood next to him.
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"Hello," Nicolette greeted them. "Donovan, Marla, I'd like
you to meet an old friend, Heath King. Heath, these are dear
friends of mine and Rudy's, Donovan and Marla Sussman."
Heath shook hands with the couple, but on the inside, he
cursed their timing.
"I really should mingle," Nicolette said to Heath. "It was
good seeing you. Maybe next time you're in town, we can get
together for coffee or something."
Next time. Message received. He wouldn't be seeing any
more of her during this trip. Trying not to let his
disappointment show, he returned her smile as she gave his
hand a parting squeeze and disappeared into the crowd.
[Back to Table of Contents]
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Chapter Three
One more hour and you can get out of here. Be alone. Fall
apart.
happiness, was wearing on Nicolette. All she wanted was for it
to be over. Correction, that wasn't all she wanted. Damn it to
hell, she also wanted Heath.
No use lying to herself. She'd had a thing for him all those
years ago but had done her best to put it out of her mind
when she married Rudy. Then, the almost kiss just before
Rudy's death had brought it all back, and she knew. No way
in hell was she over Heath King. Not even close.
But he was Rudy's best friend. Her friend. Nothing more
could come of it. What would people say if she hooked up
with Heath? She knew what they'd say, that they'd been
having an affair all along. That she'd been screwing around on
Rudy during their marriage. Even worse, the police would
think she and Heath wanted to be together, and they would
most likely consider it a motive. Might even think she and
Heath planned and carried out Rudy's murder. She couldn't
do anything to raise their suspicions.
Jesus. What a mess. As if the blackmail and the discovery
of Rudy's drug use weren't enough. Nope. It would definitely
not be wise to get involved with Heath. Even if he was
interested, and in spite of his temporary moment of
weakness, she had no reason to believe he was, nothing
could ever happen between then.
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No matter how good it had been to see him
unexpectedly...to touch him, albeit briefly, nothing could ever
come of it. Yeah, and maybe if you tell yourself that enough
times, you'll be okay with it. But then again, maybe not.
As much as Nicolette was anxious to have the night over
with, a sudden dread filled her chest at the thought of leaving
alone, going home alone, maybe finding another message, a
threat. Even worse than the memories at Louisa's, were the
memories at home. Not a lot to look forward to there. Nothing
but the cold spot in her bed where Rudy's warm body once
laid, the quiet that somehow seemed gratingly loud.
Although their marriage hadn't been perfect, they'd loved
each other. She missed him so much it was a physical ache.
She would never hear his laugh again, never feel his strong
arms holding her, never feel his warm body in bed as she
instinctively scooted against him, seeking his warmth. His
death had rocked her world, left a yawning void that was
soon filled with loneliness, pain, and anger. Grief had settled
over her like a smothering cloak. Then, just when she was
really getting into the groove, really getting comfortable with
her role as the pathetic, lonely widow, the calls had started.
Now, she could add fear to the mix of emotions.
She'd been so lonely and so afraid for so long that she
suddenly needed the comfort of someone she felt close to,
someone she could confide in.
In spite of her denials about Heath, in spite of her good
intentions, she found herself glancing around for him. When
she didn't find him, she felt inexplicably deserted, abandoned.
She had an uncontrollable urge to seek him out. She just
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needed to be with someone she could trust. Someone strong
and safe.
Wading through the sea of bodies, she made her way to
the bar where she'd found him earlier. The journey took an
agonizing long time between the jostling and the attendees
who stopped her, some to offer congratulations on Rudy's
award, some to offer condolences on his passing.
Finally arriving at the bar, her heart dropped when Heath
was nowhere to be seen.
"Can I get you something?" The bartender, a twenty-
something black man shot her a wide smile, but his eyes held
sympathy. Good God, was she that transparent?
"Club soda with lime, please."
He poured the soda over ice, the white foam rising then
settling gently just when it seemed it would spill over the rim.
She was like that lately. Panic and despair bubbling to the
surface until she thought she couldn't take anymore, then
somehow finding a way to push it back down before it spilled
over. How much longer, though? How much longer could she
tamp down the erosion without exploding into a million
pieces?
The bartender squeezed a lime wedge and dropped it into
the clear liquid, then handed her the glass.
"Thank you." She sipped at the drink, thinking she should
have ordered something with a little kick, but she'd had two
glasses of wine earlier and she was driving tonight. All she
needed was a DUI. Wouldn't the cops love that? Wouldn't the
papers love it? She could see the headline now, "Woman
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suspected of killing her husband, Philanthropist, Rudy
Morgan, arrested for DUI."
Well, maybe that was a little long for a headline, but the
press would be all over it.
A few moments later, she was still standing at the bar,
enjoying the brief moments of solitude when she spotted
Heath. Her heart did a little stutter skip, and pleasure swept
through her. His dark head was bent toward a woman she
didn't recognize as he listened intently to whatever she was
saying. He'd always been like that, had a way of focusing all
his attention on whoever he was with at the time, making
that person feel special.
A shiver ran through her, and she wanted him to give her
that same intent attention. Wanted to feel his arms around
her, have him comfort her. She wanted to pour her heart out
to him, tell him everything that had been going on since Rudy
died.
Heath would be the one person she could trust, the one
person who could help her. But she couldn't do it. She
couldn't tell anyone.
Lifting the glass to her lips, she took another sip, trying to
wash down the lump that had risen to her throat. If she could
tell anyone, it would definitely be Heath. He would
understand, and he would do whatever it took to make this all
go away.
Heath wouldn't do or say anything to hurt Louisa, or to
destroy the legacy Rudy had built, the charity he'd created.
Heath wouldn't judge Rudy. He would want to protect him,
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even in death. She knew all this as well as she knew her own
name. After all, Heath had loved Rudy as much as she did.
Leaning a hip against a bar stool, she sipped her drink,
content to simply watch Heath, something she hadn't been
able to do in a long time. His head rose, his eyes meeting
hers. A slow smile spread across his face, and he winked. Her
skin warmed, her heart thudding crazily in her chest.
She set her glass down on the bar and took a deep breath,
gathering her courage to seek Heath out once more. She'd
only gone a few steps, when she halted. What would she say?
She couldn't tell him about the trouble she was in, and she
couldn't tell him she wanted him. Other than that, what was
really left? Before she could give in to temptation and do
something she'd later regret, she reversed course and headed
for the exit door.
As she rode the elevator to the parking garage, Nicolette
relived those moments with Heath. It had been wonderful to
see him, yet frustrating at the same time. Not being able to
continue their friendship, or have something more, caused an
intense sadness deep within.
Maybe it wasn't really about Heath. In spite of the
unpleasant truths she'd learned about Rudy, she missed him
terribly. He'd been a loving, attentive husband; they'd had
ten great years together. She thought they'd have a lifetime,
but a terrible accident, or something more sinister if the
police's theory was correct, had ended that dream.
The elevator reached her floor, and she stepped out into
the parking garage. There were security cameras and plenty
of lighting, but apprehension worked its way down her spine
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as she headed to her car. The sound of her heels clacking
against the concrete echoed and bounced back. If someone
approached, she might not hear them with all the noise her
shoes were making.
She shook off the thought. She would not let all that was
happening make her paranoid. Pausing to fish out her keys,
she heard the elevator ding, then open. Good. Company. Not
that she thought anything would happen. The blackmailer
hadn't approached her thus far, no need for him to do so
now. Just the same, she was glad to no longer be alone in the
eerie, cavernous space.
Unless...whoever was getting off the elevator posed a
threat. After all, it could be him.
She made herself turn to look. Relief swept through her as
a group of two men and three women stepped off the
elevator. The relief dissipated when they headed the opposite
direction of where she was parked. Still alone.
Glancing around, she realized that she was indeed alone,
which meant no one was here to threaten her, cause her
harm. Feeling foolish and melodramatic, she found her keys
and continued her loud journey to the car. Only a few more
feet to safety.
Just as she reached her car, she felt rather than heard a
presence behind her, and she started to turn. A hand grabbed
the back of her head, holding her in place so she couldn't see
behind her.
"Oh, God," she whimpered. Her legs shook so hard she
thought they'd give out on her, that she'd crumple at the
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assailant's feet, be at his mercy. Yeah, like she was any less
at his mercy standing upright.
"Shut up," a harsh voice hissed in her ear.
"What do you want? What are you going to do?" She
clutched at her evening bag, wishing it concealed a weapon.
That's what she should do. Buy a gun. To hell with being
scared out of her mind and continually threatened.
But would you use a gun if you had it?
"I said shut the fuck up." The man's fist clenched in her
hair and pulled so hard it stung her scalp and brought tears to
her eyes.
Hell yes, she'd use a gun if she had one.
"What do you want?" She tried to make her voice sound
strong, tried to note details about the man in case she ever
had the opportunity to identify him. He seemed to be about
her height and smelled of some cheap cologne.
"I thought maybe I should pay you a visit to let you know
I'm not playing."
"Please let me go," she whispered. "I know you're not
playing."
"Yeah? You sounded a little reluctant on the phone today.
Can't have you getting cold feet."
"I won't. You'll have your money."
"I'd better have it. Or you won't like the way I show my
displeasure. You have five days, capice?"
She realized he wasn't going to hurt her. He wouldn't want
his funds to dry up. The knowledge made her braver than she
would have been otherwise. "Yes. I capice, dammit. Now,
please. Let me go. Leave me alone!"
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He jerked her head back, pulling at the tendons of her
neck, and she rethought her assumption. Maybe he wouldn't
kill her, but there was nothing to keep him from hurting her.
Injured or not, she could still fork over his cash.
She waited, barely able to breathe, for whatever pain he
would dole out, but it didn't come.
Instead, he loosened his hold enough that she could once
more breathe freely and said, "Don't fucking turn around until
I'm gone. You do, I make you bleed, got it?"
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He released her
and she felt him move away but didn't hear footsteps. He
must be wearing soft-soled shoes, because not only did she
not hear him now, she damned sure hadn't heard him when
she'd been clomping through the garage like a horse.
She gave him plenty of time, then with shaking hands,
unlocked her car and slid inside. She locked the door, laid her
head down on the steering wheel and sobbed. Her earlier
pleasure at seeing Heath had been shattered. All that was left
was fear and dread.
Would she ever be free of the hold this asshole had on
her? Or would she keep giving until she had no more to give?
And then what? He'd kill her? Kill Louisa?