Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (8 page)

“Really? That's funny. I don't see anyone but you.”

Wow,
Valerie thought.
Oh, wow.

Brant Colter, cop, was intimidating enough, but Brant Colter, charmer, was positively devastating. “I almost didn't recognize you,” she lied breathlessly. “I don't think I've ever seen a cop in a tuxedo.”

“And I don't think I've ever seen a reporter…” His voice trailed away as his gaze slid over her, making her heart beat even faster. “Wear what you're wearing.”

“Does that mean you like my dress?” she asked daringly.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” He maneuvered her onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. “Would you like to dance?”

“Do I have a choice?” Valerie asked, wanting to resist the pull of his arms, but finding herself unable to. She slid into his embrace as easily as moonlight gliding over water.

“No, you don't,” Brant said, holding her close. So close, Valerie wondered if she would ever be able to breathe again.

She was a tall woman, and her heels made her almost as tall as Brant. Their bodies fit well together, like two pieces of a puzzle that had been separated for too long. Her eyes were almost level with his, their lips only an inch or so apart, and Valerie had the wildest urge to close that small distance. To place her mouth against his and let nature take its course.

“I was surprised to see you here.” She hardly recognized the soft, trembling voice as her own. She wondered if Brant noticed the difference in her, if he could feel the rapid beating of her heart against his. “Are you here to offer moral support for your cousin?”

“Hardly. I'm here because I was reminded that we Colters always stick together.” He grimaced. “I might
ask you the same thing, though. How did you get in here?”

“I came with my boss. Julian Temple.”

“The infamous King of Sleaze,” Brant said. “How do you stand working for that jerk?”

Valerie shrugged. “He's not so bad. He pretty much gives me free rein.”

“And he doesn't worry about those pesky little concepts like ethics and libel and defamation of character. He's quite a guy, your boss.”

Valerie felt she needed to come to Julian's defense although, to be honest, it was pretty difficult. She'd seen some of the articles he'd sanctioned in the
Journal.
Her own about the Kingsley kidnapping paled in comparison. “The
Journal
was a failing newspaper before he acquired it,” she said. “He's made it into a very successful daily.”

“By printing sensationalized stories,” Brant replied. “I wouldn't be surprised if he were the one who fired those shots at you last night, just to get a good headline.”

Valerie pulled back in shock. The magic of the evening vanished. In the back of her mind, she pictured Julian's glee when she'd told him about having been pushed in front of a bus. His first concern
had
been about possible headlines.

But still…

“You can't be serious,” she said.

Brant gazed down at her. “A good cop never rules out anyone as a suspect.”

“No one?”

“That's right, Valerie. No one is ruled out as a suspect.”

His meaning was clear, and Valerie should have been
relieved, but all she could think about at that moment was the way her name sounded on his lips.

She grew breathless again as they fell silent, their bodies swaying in time to the music.

After a moment, he said, “You and Andrew Kingsley were gone a long time. What was that all about?”

“He showed me the nursery where Adam was kidnapped.”

One of Brant's brows rose. “It took that long to show you the nursery?”

Valerie drew back to stare up at him. “What were you doing, timing us?”

He shrugged. “Kingsley has quite a reputation. With women, I mean. I wouldn't want to see you getting in over your head.”

“Getting in over my head? In case you haven't noticed, I'm a grown woman, well over twenty-one. I know how to take care of myself. I'm a reporter. I talk to people. That's what I do.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “Just thought I'd warn you.”

“Fine,” she said. “Warning duly noted.”

He pulled her back into his arms again, and they fell silent once more. It occurred to Valerie that the tone of his comment about Andrew Kingsley had been less like that of a cop, and more like that of a jealous lover.

Her heart almost missed a beat. Could that be possible? Could Brant actually be jealous of Andrew Kingsley because of
her?

Then that would mean…

She thought about her own reaction when she'd seen him dancing with another woman—Andrew Kingsley's wife. And then later, when the blonde had come up and put her arm through his.

Had the emotion Valerie experienced been jealousy? Or was it a longing to be the woman in Brant Colter's arms? A yearning to have the right to link her arm possessively with his?

Wait a minute,
she told herself sternly. This was getting too serious. Way too serious. An attraction was one thing, but these thoughts, these
feelings
went beyond attraction. They bordered on caring, and that was something Valerie could not afford. She couldn't let herself care about anyone or anything except proving her father's innocence.

Brant Colter was the last man on earth she could get involved with. He was a cop, a Colter, the son of the man who had sent her father to prison. He had been on the scene when she'd been pushed in front of a bus, and he'd been there last night, when she'd gotten shot at. There was no reason in the world for her to trust him, except maybe for one.

He'd saved her life last night.

Did that explain her accelerated attraction to him tonight? she wondered uneasily. Did that explain this new closeness between them? This new intimacy?

As if sensing her thoughts, Brant tightened his arms around her, possessively, Valerie thought. Once, that notion would have terrified her, but now it excited her. Thrilled her. Made her feel sexy and vulnerable and…womanly.

They were dancing near the French doors, and in silent accord, they stopped. Brant took her arm to guide her out onto the shadowy, moonlit terrace.

There were people about here, as well. Valerie could hear soft laughter coming from the shadows and strains of music from the ballroom. The moon rose majestically
over the garden, crowning the pines with an opalescent glow. A breeze rippled through the leaves, stirring the sweet, heady scent of jasmine.

Valerie and Brant left the terrace, seeking the deeper solace of the garden. Here the moonlight was more patchy, filtering through the lacy filigree of pine boughs overhead. Brant's face was in shadow, making him seem mysterious and dangerous. More alluring than ever.

“You aren't like any cop I've ever known before,” she said softly. She caught her breath when he took her hand and pulled her to him.

“Known a lot of cops, have you?”

“A few,” she said, and sobered for a moment as the reality of their situation came crashing in on her.

If he only knew,
she thought.
If he only knew the cops she'd known.

His mouth was so close to hers. In a moment, their lips would be touching. They would be kissing, embracing, losing control. And then…

Dear God, what then?
Valerie thought desperately. Giving herself to Brant Colter would be a little too much like sleeping with the enemy, but at the moment, it didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered except the way he looked at her in the dappled moonlight.

“You're not like any reporter I've ever known,” he said.

“Known a lot, have you?”

He laughed softly. “A few. No one like you, though. You aren't at all what I expected after reading your article.”

“What
did
you expect?”

He shrugged. “Someone more…militant, maybe.”

“I can be very militant,” she assured him.

He laughed again. “I don't doubt that. That's why you intrigue me so much. You're tough as nails and soft and sexy as hell, all at the same time.”

“That's good?”

“That's very, very good,” he murmured, just before his lips lowered to hers.

Valerie closed her eyes and waited for his mouth to overpower hers. Waited for him to take charge, as had been her experience in the past. But it never happened.

Instead, his lips rested lightly, so very lightly, against hers, and the tip of his tongue eased out to tease open her mouth. A thrill of excitement began to build inside Valerie until she felt herself responding boldly, passionately, almost desperately, to his whisper-soft kiss.

Suddenly, it was Valerie who took charge. Valerie's mouth that overpowered Brant's. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her as her lips opened beneath his, and her tongue plunged inside his mouth. She felt his stunned response, heard the sharp intake of his breath just before his own arms tightened around her, and the kiss deepened.

Excitement exploded inside Valerie. Thrill after thrill washed over her. She would never have believed a kiss, a
kiss,
could do this to her. Make her feel weak and vulnerable, strong and invincible all at the same time. She was tough as nails and sexy as hell, just as Brant had said. And Valerie loved it. She loved every thrilling moment of it.

“My God,” Brant whispered, finally breaking the kiss. He pulled back, but he didn't release her. In the filtered moonlight, he looked as shaken as Valerie felt.

She couldn't meet his eyes. In the aftermath of
passion, her loss of control was a little embarrassing. And definitely frightening.

“Maybe we'd better talk about this,” Brant said.

“Why?” Valerie tried to bluff. “It was just a kiss.”

“It was more than a kiss and you know it. This thing between us—”

Valerie pulled free of his arms. “There is no ‘thing' between us. It was just a kiss.”

She started to move away, but he took her arm, turned her around to face him. “I'm talking about attraction, Valerie. The dangerous kind. The kind that makes you do crazy things. The kind that makes you forget who and what you are.”

Valerie knew exactly what he was talking about. She'd known from the moment she set eyes on him that he could be dangerous, in more ways than one. With just one kiss, he could make her forget who and what she was. And that wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all.

“We should get back,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering, although the night was warm and balmy, and her skin still felt flushed.

“You can't just ignore it,” he said. “It won't go away.”

“Then
I
will,” she replied, forcing a resolve she wasn't even sure she wanted anymore. “I'm going in.”

She looked back expectantly, but Brant didn't move. He stood in the shadows, watching her with the same eyes that had haunted her dreams, reminding her all too profoundly that he was Judd Colter's son.

Valerie knew she would be a fool to let herself forget just exactly what that meant.

* * *

“W
HERE THE HELL HAVE YOU
been?” Julian grabbed her arm and ushered her into a private corner banked with lush flower arrangements. “They're on the move.”

“What?” It was hard to focus with Brant's kiss still tingling on her lips. With his warning still ringing in her ears.
You can't just ignore it. It won't go away.

She would make it go away, Valerie thought. She would do whatever she had to to forget Brant Colter. “Who's on the move?”

Julian nodded. “Take a look.”

Valerie followed his gaze and saw Raymond Colter and Hugh Rawlins slipping out of the room.
Two of the unholy triumvirate,
Valerie thought. The only one missing was Judd Colter himself.

“I'm going to follow them,” she said. “See what they're up to.”

“Good idea,” Julian agreed. “Meanwhile, I'll look for Austin. See if I can get a few words from him.”

Valerie and Julian split up, and she headed across the room to the hallway down which she'd seen Raymond Colter and Hugh Rawlins disappear. She tiptoed along the corridor, glancing over her shoulder to make sure
she
hadn't been followed.

Double doors at the end of the hallway stood ajar, revealing a dimly lit room that looked like a library or study of some kind. Valerie could smell the pungent aroma of cigar smoke drifting from the interior and hear the faint clink of crystal as liquor was being poured. Then the murmur of voices, all masculine, drifted into the corridor.

“Decent of Kingsley to let us use his study,” one voice said more clearly, as if he'd moved closer to the door. Valerie drew back slightly.

“Yeah, well, he doesn't like this business any more than we do,” said another. “It's got his mother all upset. She's not in good health, you know.”

“She looked like hell tonight,” said the first voice. “I can't help remembering the way she used to be. No one dared cross her back then. Not even her own son.”

“Oh, well. Those were the days….”

“When is he coming?” demanded a feminine voice that startled Valerie. “He should have been here by now. Do you think something happened?”

“Stop worrying,” a third male voice soothed. “He'll be here.”

The voices trailed into silence, and Valerie grew impatient. She tried to figure out how many people were inside and had counted at least four—three men and one woman—and that was presuming everyone inside had spoken.

She didn't recognize any of the voices, but she assumed two of them belonged to Raymond Colter and Hugh Rawlins. She had no idea who the woman was, or who the other man was.

Valerie started to press closer to the opening to get a better look, but a noise from inside the study stopped her. Someone entered through another door, probably one that opened from the gardens. Valerie heard the distinct click as the door was drawn closed behind the newcomer.