Guilty Cravings (The Steamy South 1) (9 page)

“Yes, ma’am,” he said
in a sarcastic tone, then winked. A wave of electricity passed through her and
her nipples tingled. How could one wink generate such turmoil in her body?

“It will only take a
minute, I promise,” Tia said.

“No problem.” Nick
headed toward the kitchen.

Following Tia up the
stairs, Emily felt like a giddy teenager again, heading off with a friend to
talk and giggle about boys. At twenty-six she was too old for this, but she had
to admit Nick did excite her on so many levels. Once inside her bedroom, she
closed the door.

“Way to go, Emily,”
Tia whispered dramatically.

“What are you talking
about? I have a stalker.”

“No, I mean about
Nick. He’s so damned hot.” Tia fanned herself.

“Well, yes, I know
that, but—”

“No
but,
girlfriend.”

“He’s my ex’s
brother.” Emily hoped that was a good excuse to keep her hands off, no matter
how much she wanted to stroke Nick’s delectably defined muscles.

“So? He doesn’t look
a thing like Jared. And I keep telling you that you need to get laid. Here’s
the perfect opportunity.”

A renewed flush of
scalding heat washed over Emily, because what Tia suggested was Emily’s wildest
and most forbidden fantasy. “That’s not why he’s here. He’s a police officer,
protecting me.”

“I know! Isn’t that
sexy?”

“Had several glasses
of wine today, have you?” Emily asked, trying her best to tamp down her own
enthusiasm for Nick.

“No, none. You’ve got
to forget about Jared and how he made you feel like shit. I know he’s dead, and
I’m sorry, but he was a bastard.”

Emily nodded. “Nick
might be too.”

“You’ve been with him
for several hours. Is he?”

“Not so far. He’s
actually nice.”
And knows exactly how to touch me with those skilled hands.
But
who knew if he would change tomorrow or next week and become more like his
brother?

“A gentleman?” Tia
inquired with mock sophistication.

Emily shrugged. Was
she already picking up Nick’s body language? “As much as a bad boy can be, I
suppose. He seems concerned about me, wants to keep me safe.”

“God, that’s hot.
You’ve got to tell me what happens.”

“With the stalker or
with Nick?”

“Both. Besides, I’m
not worried about the stalker with Nick around. He’ll kick that lunatic’s ass.”

“I sure hope so. He
has two guns and plenty of bullets.” She’d seen the smaller second pistol when
he’d strapped it to his ankle that morning.

“A man who can handle
weapons is hot. I am so jealous right now.” Tia had been going on a lot of
first dates recently, trying to find Mr. Right or at least a man she was
strongly attracted to, but wasn’t having much luck.

“You’ll find the
right guy, Tia. Don’t worry.”

“Maybe.” She gave a
tiny, sharp shrug, a hint of sadness entering her usual upbeat expression. “Who
knows? I at least want to experience a sizzling fling vicariously. I want to
know every detail of what happens.”

“Nothing interesting
is going to happen.” Emily definitely wasn’t telling her that something
interesting
had already happened in bed that morning.

* * * *

“What do we know
about this guy—the killer?” Nick asked.

Seated at the kitchen
table in the breakfast nook overlooking historic Savannah, Emily and Nick ate
dinner. Emily had asked Tia to join them, but she’d refused and left fifteen minutes
earlier. Emily was relaxing, enjoying the soft, early evening light, fresh Caesar
salad and cheesy lasagna—but most of all, Nick’s company—until his cryptic
words squashed her appetite.

“Not much.” Emily put
down her fork and poured a second glass of merlot for herself and topped off
Nick’s. She shouldn’t drink another glass, but maybe the food would keep the
alcohol from affecting her too much. Besides, she needed it for courage. And if
she focused on the discussion of the killer stalking her, maybe she could
ignore the electricity between her and Nick.

“Thanks.” He took a
sip. “My guess is he’s someone who knew Jared. Maybe a business associate or
someone he had contact with on occasion. Maybe a rival. They probably shared a
common interest in antiquities. How else would he know about the object in
question?”

“But why would he
kill Jared over it? Why didn’t he blackmail him instead? He should’ve known
that if he killed Jared, he’d never get the object from him.”

“I haven’t figured
out that part yet.”

Considering the way
Nick stared out the window for several distracted moments while he ate, his
mind must have been working furiously on the problem. Though she was tempted to
study him and his square-jawed, alpha-male profile, she decided focusing on the
danger surrounding them might be a smarter choice.

“Did the local police
tell you anything more about Jared’s death or the accident?” she asked.

“Officially, he drank
too much, ran off the bridge into the river and drowned.”

The part about
drinking too much didn’t surprise her. “But what did you see in your psychic
vision?”

Nick observed her for
a long moment, his sharp cop’s gaze delving into hers. Was he speculating
whether or not he could trust her? Or was he visualizing the tragedy of his
brother’s death? “The killer was in the car with him for a while, talking about
this damned object.”

“How did he
orchestrate that without leaving clues?”

“Any clues or DNA
were likely washed away in the water. He would’ve known not to leave
fingerprints. If he was someone close to Jared or someone who knew him, maybe
they went out drinking together and he agreed to drive him home. He headed the
car toward the edge of the bridge and jumped out before it crashed and flipped
over the side. They did say the driver’s door was ajar and one window open
which allowed the car to fill up faster. Jared wasn’t buckled in and, judging
by his blood alcohol level, he was too intoxicated to swim to the bank.”

She shivered,
visualizing the whole grisly and tragic scene. “That information alone would
make me suspect foul play. Jared always buckled up while driving, and more than
once after spending a night out drinking, he’d come home in a taxi.”

Nick nodded. “Did
that happen a lot while you two were married—Jared drinking too much?”

Did she have to
answer that? She’d rather forget Jared’s binges and how he became like a
different person during them. “Yes, several times. His drink of choice was
expensive scotch. He could put away a good portion of a fifth at one time.
That’s when he became infuriating and critical.”

Nick frowned, his
perceptive gaze locking on hers. “Did he ever hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Not
physically, anyway.” Emotional pain was another subject altogether. “He tried
to one time. He struck out with his fist, but I dodged aside. I told him if he
ever tried that again…” She shook her head, her throat constricting with the
dark memory.

Nick took her hand
from her lap and squeezed it, surrounding it with the warmth and strength of
his. “Damn,” he muttered in an angry tone. “You don’t know how that makes me
feel. If he was here, I’d knock him on his ass for that.”

“Thanks,” she
whispered, her aching throat still tight. Not because of some long ago memory
now, but because Nick would so quickly leap to her defense.

“You should be treated
like—I don’t know—a queen.” His eyes intensified, and she knew he was sincere.

The difference
between Jared and Nick was almost shocking.

He released her hand
and she immediately missed the heat of his touch. What was wrong with her? She
suddenly felt emotionally raw and vulnerable.

“Thanks.” She
shrugged, needing to fill the uncomfortable silence. “He never loved me. He
only married me because of who my extended family is. Lots of politicians and
businessmen, you know. A congressman.”

“But why? He didn’t
need the money.”

She shook her head.
“No. I don’t want this to sound snooty, but it was for the prestige he thought
he could get. Connections. He wanted several prominent men from Savannah to
invest in his business ventures.”

“Maybe that’s it,”
Nick said in an excited tone.

“What?”

“Did any of those men
actually invest in Jared’s businesses?”

“I’m sure they did. I
wasn’t interested in what he did. But we had several dinner parties when we
first married, and he had me invite all sorts of important people. I planned
elaborate menus and hired outside help to accomplish everything. Maybe he
married me to be his hostess.”

“Maybe. You know, the
killer could be someone you invited to dinner, someone who’s been in this house
several times.”

She cringed, imagining
the hundreds of people who’d strolled through their home and eaten their food.
Had one of them been capable of murder? “Yes, that’s possible.”

“We need to make a
list.”

“I’ll get a piece of
paper.” Emily left the breakfast nook of the kitchen and headed toward the
antique roll-top desk in the living room.

The phone rang. Nick
waited in the kitchen doorway, a concerned frown on his face. The caller ID
listed the number as restricted, just as it had last time the killer called. A
chill passed through her.

“It might be him,”
she told Nick.

“We’ll pick up at the
same time.” Nick placed his hand on the phone by the kitchen doorway.

Emily nodded and
pushed the talk button. “Hello?”

“Welcome home.”

A shiver spiraled
down her spine.
It’s him,
she mouthed to Nick.

Chapter
Seven

“Who is this?” Emily
said into the phone, even though she already knew the person on the other end
was the bastard who’d broken in, searched her house, then called her last
night. The murderer.

“You know I can’t
tell you that,” the creepy guy snapped, as if he had a right to be irate with
her. “I see you brought in someone to help you. It won’t matter.”

Her head swirling
with a million questions, she tried to think of what she should ask him while
she had him on the phone. She also hoped either she or Nick might recognize his
voice if she could get him to talk long enough. “Why did you cut my car’s brake
line?”

“You shouldn’t have
gone to Atlanta. The quicker you give me what I want, the quicker I’ll leave
you alone.” She tried to determine if his voice sounded familiar. She wasn’t
sure. But he did have a slight southern accent.

“Did you kill Jared?”
she asked.

“No. Why would I do
something like that?” Sarcasm sharpened his words. Obviously a lie.

“You tell me.” She
tried to keep her voice from shaking.

“Here’s all I’m
telling you—get the
Clach Torach
and give it to me or I’ll burn your
little bridal shop to the ground.”

An icy shock jolted
her. “I don’t have whatever you’re looking for. I don’t even know what it is,
or what it looks like!”

“It’s an ancient
fertility object carved from marble. It looks like a penis. Do you know what a
penis looks like?”

Emily couldn’t
breathe enough to form a response. The line went dead.

Nick strode into the
room and removed the phone from her clenched hand to hang it up.

“Oh my god,” she
whispered. “Who is this psycho?” She didn’t realize she was crying until tears
streamed down her face and Nick pulled her into his arms. “A penis made out of
marble?” she asked. “Why would he kill Jared over such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”
Nick’s deep murmur reached down into her soul. “Shh. Don’t cry, baby.”

Baby?
Since when did he call her
baby
?
Anyway, it made her feel cared for.

She buried her face
against his neck. “I’m okay.” She barely pushed the words beyond her constricted
throat, unable to remember the last time she’d been so terrified. But Nick’s
strong embrace went a long way in diffusing that fear, and made her crave
having him hold her all night.

No one could hurt her
if he was holding her, could they? His shoulder was hard and comforting against
her cheek and his male scent, fused with light cologne, scrumptious.

The solid muscles of
Nick’s chest crushed and stimulated her breasts. What would he feel like naked?
He’d be hot, his skin burning against her beaded nipples.

He glanced down at
her, wiping her tears away and combing the hair back from her face with his
fingers. God, he smelled so good she wanted to bite him. Instead, she brushed
her lips along the bottom edge of his square jaw. His stubble scraped her sensitive
lips, but she craved contact with him.

Frowning, he blew out
a harsh breath, then lowered his chin so his lips stroked over hers. They were
smooth and warm. Her breath halted just before the graze of lips turned into a
kiss, at first an innocent peck, but quickly shifting to hungry devouring.