Midnight Exposure (26 page)

“I didn’t kill my wife.”

She turned and met his gaze, head-on. “I know.”

“Scott and I were camping with his Boy Scout troop that night.” Words crowded Reed’s chest, scrambled free. “Madeline had moved out a couple months before. She said she couldn’t be a cop’s wife anymore. Too much stress.” He swallowed the guilt.

Jayne moved a step closer. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I knew from the beginning she wasn’t cut out for that life. Madeline wasn’t good with pressure. If I’d have left the force like she wanted, she’d still be alive.”

“You know it’s not that simple.” Her hand found his forearm. The solid weight of it grounded him. “What happened to your wife was horrible. But you can’t take the blame.”

Jayne squeezed his arm, but Reed pulled away. He took a few steps and focused on the window. Outside, darkness had fallen. He flipped on the exterior lights. Snow reflected the brightness, illuminating the yard in stark black and white.

“One of her friends testified that Madeline suspected she was being followed. She hoped it was me. That I wanted her back. That I was ready to leave the force for her.”

Jayne took a step toward him. “Reed, you don’t have to—”

Raising a hand, he cut her off. The truth had been festering inside him for years. As painful as the process was, he needed to let it out. “But I didn’t want to reconcile. Honestly, I was relieved the day she walked out the door. No more bickering 24/7. She died because I was selfish. I just wanted some peace and quiet.” And there it was. The real source of all his guilt. Something he’d never allowed himself to admit. When Madeline moved out, an incredible, blissful silence had filled his house. No more coming
home from a long shift to a longer argument. Even though he had to share custody, Reed enjoyed his time with Scott so much more without all the stress Madeline had added to the equation.

“Your wife was killed by the superintendent of her building. It had nothing to do with you.”

The twenty-year-old super had stalked Madeline from the day she moved in. His hidey-hole in the basement had been covered with photos, notes on her day-to-day activities, small things he’d stolen from her apartment when she wasn’t home. He’d been arrested for stalking in Richmond the year before, but no one had ever pressed charges. He had no official record for anyone to check. The only person to blame was the murderer. None of that stopped Reed from carrying the guilt of her death.

“The police never considered me a suspect. But it took them a while to accumulate enough evidence to arrest the real killer. The press had months to speculate on my guilt. Not only did they have the statement from Madeline’s friend claiming she thought I was following her, they had the money I inherited. Madeline came from a wealthy family. Even though we’d separated, she hadn’t taken me out of her will. I was never interested in the money. I put it all in trust for Scott.” He turned to Jayne, searching her eyes for any sign that she was now repulsed by him.

But Jayne’s eyes only reflected his pain. She eased closer and reached for his hand. Her fingers were cold and Reed enveloped her hand between his palms. “Thank God he was with you that night.”

A wave of goose bumps passed over the exposed flesh of Reed’s forearms. If Madeline’s killer had picked the next weekend…“I do that every single day.”

Dark semicircles underscored her eyes, reminding Reed someone had tried to kill her a few days before. His chest tightened
again, the relief from purging his soul evaporating as he contemplated the danger surrounding her. Nothing could happen to Jayne. “You should eat something.”

“I’d rather shower first, if that’s OK. I’m freezing.”

“Sure.” But all Reed could think of was the last time he’d warmed her up. Body-to-body, tucked into his sleeping bag. And how much he wanted to do it again. Her long limbs would surround him, hold him close enough to feel the beat of her heart against his chest. He’d give her warmth, and she’d give him sanity.

Instead, he carried her duffel bag through the master bedroom to the bath and set it on the vanity, keeping a few feet of empty space between them. “Do you remember where everything is?”

She brushed past him. Their arms rubbed. The contact sent a wave of electricity through his body, even through the soft wool of his sweater and her thick sweatshirt. Jayne glanced over her shoulder. Her blue eyes widened, darkened, mirrored his desire. The pulse that thrummed in his temple began to echo in his loins. Primal urges to possess, protect, and claim her rushed through him.

“Yeah. Thanks.” The bright bathroom light illuminated purple smudges of exhaustion under her eyes and the pallor of her smooth skin. The oversized sweatshirt hung off one pale shoulder, the exposed patch of skin so smooth, so soft he could taste it. She’d smell like his soap, from her shower that morning. His body imagined how her long legs would encircle his waist as he sank into her tight heat. A yearning that was more than physical took root in his gut, pulled him toward her like a divining rod to an underground stream. It took every reserve of Reed’s willpower to turn around and step toward the bedroom.

Behind him, the faucet squeaked. The shower started up with a rush. Water splattered on tile.

Reed glanced over his shoulder.

Jayne hugged her arms. His eyes locked with hers. Need swam in their turquoise depths. Reed was dragged under by the wave of desire that flooded him. Blood surged to his groin and hunger unfurled deep in his chest. His need to hold her, to mark her, to become part of her, was primitive, as demanding as the need to take his next breath.

He couldn’t walk away. His feet turned toward her, controlled by instinct.

He stepped closer. Jayne’s pupils widened. Her body leaned toward him, just a fraction of an inch, but enough to tell him he wouldn’t be denied. He wanted one night with her, one night to be needed and wanted, one night to feel complete.

Jayne’s heart stammered. Reed’s eyes darkened as something was unleashed inside of them. In one swift stride he was in front of her. An inch of emptiness still separated them, but the heat from his body crossed the space. He reached out and cupped her face with both hands. Callused fingertips brushed her cheek. A shiver of anticipation shot down Jayne’s spine. Regret followed right behind it. She shouldn’t be here.

Her very presence was putting Reed’s life in jeopardy.

She pulled back. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Reed held on. His hands tensed on her jaw. “You could’ve been in that fire. Or
he
could’ve caught up with you before me or Nathan.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Reed—”

He silenced her with a finger on her lips. “Please don’t go off on your own again. I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.” His eyes speared hers. “Promise me.”

Jayne shook her head.

He bent over her. His lips brushed against her mouth, just a tease, a taste of what was to come. His mouth trailed along the line of her jaw. As her brain protested, her head tilted back to give him more room. Teeth scraped up the side of her neck and Jayne quivered. Hot breath caressed her ear.

“Promise me, Jayne.”

“I can’t.” Hot tears gathered in her eyes. “I shouldn’t even be here. Hugh died because of me. Just me being here is dangerous for you and Scott. You
were
in that fire. You could’ve died right along with Hugh.”

He leaned back to meet her eyes. “But I didn’t, and Scott’s not here. So far, your attacker hasn’t taken many risks. He’s only stalked you when you were alone. He probably set that fire when the municipal building was empty overnight. I doubt he’ll come after you while you’re with me.”

“But what if he does? Scott needs you.”

“I was a cop, Jayne. I can protect us both. What would Scott think of me if I abandoned you? His dad’s a coward? Willing to let a woman face a stalker alone to save his own skin?”

Anger heated her cheeks. She jerked her chin out of his hands and stepped away. “This guy’s dangerous. He killed Hugh and probably those college boys, too.”

“I know.” Reed’s hands settled on her shoulders. He turned her to face him. His thumbs caressed her collarbones, the calluses rough against her tender skin. “That’s why I’m not letting you go until I know you’re safe. Really, Jayne, even if you leave, I have to
find out who he is. I have to stop him before he hurts someone else.”

He inched closer. His mouth pressed against her lips. At the contact, heat blazed through Jayne’s belly. The kiss was too much to resist.
He
was too much to resist. Something gave inside of her. She opened her mouth and let his tongue sweep in, hot and demanding.

A burning hand settled on her lower back and pulled her against the hard length of his body. Jayne’s hands unclenched, releasing the wool of his sweater from her grasp. Her hands splayed on the firm muscles of his chest. Blood pulsed in her temples, rushed in her ears, and gathered hot between her legs. Unyielding need built like a symphony’s crescendo. She hooked a leg around his thigh, hauled him closer, and pressed her center against the ridge in his jeans. His answering groan made her increase the sweet pressure.

“Wait.” Reed’s request was barely a whisper. His cheek rested against her forehead. “I can’t do this. I need to show you something first.”

Jayne froze. “Right now? Seriously?”

“Right now.” Reed stepped back.

Jayne lowered her foot to the floor. “But…”

“It’ll just take a minute. And it’s important.” After turning off the shower, he took her hand in his and pulled her through the house toward the back door. “Put on your coat and boots.”

“OK.”

Reed tugged her across the yard to his workshop. Jayne was surprised steam didn’t rise off her skin as the cold hit her heated face. Inside, he continued through the first room and opened the door to the storage room. Except it wasn’t used for storage. In the center, on a long, low workbench, lay a section of raw wood
that resembled a log stripped of its bark. Slender, at least seven feet long, and roughly shaped like a person. A woman. Black dots marked features not yet carved into the pale wood.

Holy—

“I’m R. S. Morgan.” Reed stepped toward the table. His hand settled on the wood.

Oh my God
. Reed was R. S. Morgan. If the media found out that R. S. Morgan was a man once fingered by the press for murdering his wife, he’d never have a moment’s peace. No wonder he kept a low profile. He’d already been skewered by reporters once.

“I didn’t want any more secrets between us.” Reed turned and pressed his body against hers again. Blood rushed in her ears, drowning out both her shock and her conscience. She should tell him that she’d come here to expose him. But did it matter? Jason could go scratch. There was no way she was outing Reed.

In fact, she was never going to take tabloid pictures again. Seeing what the media had done to Reed’s life hammered the offensiveness of her occupation home. She was exactly what he despised the most.

Since she was done with all that, what did it matter?

No secrets.

But would he forgive hers? Could she take the risk? What if the fact that she’d come here on a tabloid assignment to uncover his identity ruined everything?

Regret passed through her like a tremor.

“I’m sorry. It’s cold in here. Let’s go back in the house.” He tugged her back through the door and across the frozen yard. All the way back to the master bathroom. They shed their outerwear en route, leaving a trail of coats and boots on the hardwood. The bathroom was still steamy and it only took seconds for hot water
to pour from the showerhead. Reed took that brief span of time to step closer. His hand slid up her arm.

Jayne’s heart thudded against her breastbone. Hunger shot through her belly. Her hands clenched in the loose knit of his sweater and pulled him closer. Heat from his body rose through the wool. Jayne leaned closer and breathed him in. He smelled like soap and man. The hint of smoke reminded her of the panic she’d felt when she’d thought he had died in the fire.

But here he was. Alive. Breathing. Touching her. Being touched.

Everything else faded before the wonder of the moment.

His hands slid to her shoulders, smoothed her biceps and forearms, and settled on her hips. He grasped the hem of her sweatshirt and slowly raised it over her head, dropping it to the floor at her feet. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She hadn’t had a chance to change into her own clothes since they’d retrieved her things at the inn.

His eyes roamed over her breasts. Her nipples puckered as if he’d touched them.

But he didn’t. Not yet.

He unbuttoned her jeans, dropped to one knee, and drew them down her thighs. A breath hissed out of his mouth. Since she’d drawn the line at borrowing boxers, she’d gone commando there as well.

Inches from her sensitive skin, he inhaled and closed his eyes as if the smell of her was intoxicating, irresistible, and delicious. He exhaled, the breath hot on her thighs as he licked his lips.

“I wanted to worship you the first time I saw you.” Green eyes, dark and intense with desire, looked up at her. “I’d never seen anything so beautiful.”