One Night in Weaver... (9 page)

A moment later, Seth walked into the kitchen, too.

“You’re not really a security guard,” she said.

“No.”

“And you work for Tristan Clay.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

“There was no reason for you to know.”

“And there is now?”

“Eleven years ago, Manuel Rodriguez, Jonathan Solomon and I served together in a joint operation. They were—”

“—Marine recon,” she finished for him. “I read their files.” Along with Jason’s. “Everything that hadn’t been redacted, anyway.” She set the wineglass down on the counter and decided it was the perfect time to empty the bottle into it. Fortunately, considering the way she couldn’t make her hand stop shaking, there wasn’t a lot of wine left.

“They were good men. And a little more than six months ago during an operation in Central America that had been years in the making, they were betrayed. By their own partner. By McGregor.”

“You have proof of that?”

His blue eyes narrowed. “The only proof that matters is he’s alive. They’re not.”

“Not exactly an ironclad case, or he’d have been charged by now.”

He planted his palms flat on the gleaming granite island. “Lying about his memory buys him time. He’s guilty.”

Her patient could very well be guilty. She couldn’t deny that. But she didn’t believe he was lying. “And me? How long have you known about my involvement?”

“Since the party out at Tristan and Hope’s.”

Everything inside her sank.

That had been just over two weeks ago. The very first day she’d met with Jason.

It felt so much longer.

“So
that’s
what the supposedly renewed interest in me was about,” she murmured. She lifted the wineglass and drank down the remaining mouthful.

It tasted like vinegar.

“You could have just asked me outright what Jason has been telling me during our sessions together.” She could barely bring herself to look at him. “I wouldn’t have told you then, either, but at least it would have saved you some trouble.”

“There’s nothing
supposed
about my interest in you.” His voice was flat. “I knew you wouldn’t tell me squat. Not intentionally.”

“Not unintentionally, either,” she said tightly. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Seth, but not even in the throes of passion would I have broken a patient’s confidentiality.” Anger dripped from her words.

“You had me drop you off at the safe house where he’s located. Because you were starting to trust me.”

“God forbid. Trusting someone to drop me off at the home of a
friend
.”

“Tristan saw us.”

Her jaw was so tight it hurt. “So? If you’d have been the Cee-Vid security guard you claimed to be, why would that matter?”

“I’m not a security guard. I’m an intelligence analyst with Hollins-Winword
and
I have a history with the victims. Having a relationship with the psychologist in charge of the number-one suspect in their murder isn’t exactly smiled upon. The hint of something compromising like that could blow the case out of the water before there was even the slightest chance of getting it in front of a judge. And that’s only if we don’t lose McGregor to the Feds first!”

Her chest squeezed. “We don’t have a relationship.”

His eyes sharpened. “You sure about that?”

Her mouth felt arid. She turned away from his too-sharp gaze and rinsed the glass under the faucet with soap before turning it upside down on a dishtowel to dry. “We aren’t dating. We haven’t even—” she struggled to push the rest of the words out “—slept together. We are not in a relationship.”

He threw her words back at her. “This
thing
between us that is not in your imagination tells me otherwise.”

She finally turned back around to face him. “Seth—”

His expression was tight. “I need to stay away from you. Until this business with McGregor is over. I need to stay away from you, for everyone’s sake. Even McGregor’s.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. She was shaking from her head to her toes. “Then stay away.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Believe me,” he said. “I have tried.” He slowly moved around the island until he stopped in front of her, trapping her in the corner where she stood near the sink.

She couldn’t seem to look away from his blue, blue eyes.

“And I can’t,” he finished in a low voice.

Her lips parted.

His head dipped toward hers, his lips grazing hers, lighter than his whisper. “Don’t trust me, Hayley. Be stronger than I am.”

A sound she didn’t recognize slid from her throat. Her hands curled into fists, one against the counter and the other on the cool edge of the old-fashioned apron sink. The front of her felt singed by the heat emanating from him. “I’m not strong.”

His lips rested against hers and his palms covered her fists. His fingers circled her wrists. Then he lifted and placed her hands on his shoulders and she didn’t resist. “You have to be.” Then he lifted her by the waist, bringing her mouth up to his level. “You have to be,” he repeated and kissed her.

Her mind exploded in color. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, thinking that she’d be anything he needed her to be as long as he never stopped kissing her.

“Where’s your room?”

She twined her arms around his back and tasted the hard line of his jaw. Salty and rough with bristle. “Upstairs. First door on the left.”

She expected him to put her down. But he just turned, sliding one arm beneath her rear and carried her.

She pressed her face to his neck. If she hadn’t already been swooning, she would have then, as he went up the stairs to the guestroom she was using and kicked the door shut after them. But not even then did he let her go. He crossed to the bed, leaned over and deposited her slowly on the mattress.

He straightened and Hayley’s arms fell away. She stared up at him, mute, when he lifted one foot and then the other, pulling off her tennis shoes. They dropped to the floor, two soft thuds in the room that was silent except for the sounds of their breath, the rasp of the zipper on her jeans as he pulled it down and the rustle when the jeans followed. He yanked his shirt off, and she pulled off hers and groaned when the collar got caught up in her ponytail holder. “I’m stuck,” she nearly wailed.

He laughed softly and knelt on the bed next to her. “Hold on. You’re going to make it worse.” He nudged her shoulder so she was on her side, her back toward him, and she felt his fingers against the back of her head for a moment.

Then the stretchy collar was loose, her hair was falling free and he slid the shirt over her head. “All better,” he murmured and she felt his lips on her shoulder. Then the center of her back.

She fell weakly forward onto her stomach when he nudged, and shivered when his fingers slowly trailed down her spine, hooked in the edge of her plain cotton panties, and pulled them, too, down her legs. And this time, when the mattress dipped again under his weight and she felt the singeing heat of his skin against hers, there was only skin.

His arms surrounded her and she turned until they were flush and her breath hissed out of her. Everything about him was hard.

Except his eyes.

She could get lost forever in his eyes.

“I should have showered,” he murmured.

“Later.” Impatience suddenly ruled and she slid her thighs along his and took him in with an arch of her back.

He let out a low, choked oath.

Breathing fast, shuddering against the indescribable sense of fullness, she stared up at him through her lashes. “Is there a problem?”

“You tell me.” In less than a breath, he’d anchored her wrists in one hand above her head and tilted her hips with his other, sinking even more deeply.

She gasped, pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known rocketing through her. “No,” she managed faintly. “No...oh,
Seth
...no problem.”

His teeth flashed. And then he began moving, and words ceased to exist and all she could do was feel as he drove them both straight into oblivion.

Chapter Eight

I
t was the sound of Moose whining and gnawing on the other side of the door that finally roused them sometime later.

Seth untangled his legs from hers, pushed off the bed and turned on the lamp sitting on the nightstand.

With unabashed pleasure, Hayley watched his considerable naked glory as he crossed the room and opened the door.

“Moose, stop,” he said.

Moose’s whines immediately ceased. He dropped his butt and his tail pounded the floor happily.

Hayley propped her head on her hand. Outside the bedroom window, the sky was dark. “I should probably let him out. He’s not entirely accident proof yet when it comes to piddling in the house.”

Seth scooped up his running shorts and pulled them on. The lazy gaze he ran over her made her hot. “I’ll do it.”

It was only after she could hear him and the dog going down the stairs that she realized she’d been so busy staring at his ridged abs that she hadn’t offered a single objection.

She flopped onto her back and pressed her palm flat against her belly. Every muscle she possessed felt liquefied and the notion of lying there, feeling just as she did, for the rest of eternity, seemed extremely appealing. She closed her eyes, drifting on that lovely fantasy until she heard Moose’s toenails scrabbling on the wood floor again.

A moment later, he raced through the door, launched himself into the air midway across the room and landed on the bed with a slathering woof.

Hayley turned her face away from the dog kisses, but he wasn’t deterred, simply transferring his adoration to her arm and hands. “Good grief, Moose.”

She finally left the bed to him and pulled on her short robe as she headed downstairs. “I think we’re both in need of a shower now,” she called as she reached the base of the stairs and turned toward the kitchen. “Which makes me think of at least one very interesting scenari—” She stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted her. “—
Oh
.”

Seth was squared off on one side of the island against Tristan on the other. A third, hard-looking older man she didn’t recognize was handling the old violin that Casey kept on a shelf.

Hayley tightened the sash of her robe. “Hello, Tristan.” She gave Seth a quick look. Aside from his hands clenched at his sides, his expression was unreadable. “I didn’t know you were here,” she finished as if it were perfectly normal that he was even though it wasn’t.

Tristan didn’t look pleased. “Dr. Hayley Templeton.” He pointed toward the stranger. “Coleman Black. The head of Hollins-Winword.”

Dismay clutched inside her. She didn’t know anything about Coleman Black but couldn’t imagine any positive reasons for his presence. But she wasn’t going to act as if she and Seth had been caught breaking some law, either, just because the situation was...delicate.

“Mr. Black,” she greeted the stranger with a faint nod. “May I offer you gentlemen something to drink?”

At that, Seth moved away from the island. “Nice try, Doc, but I don’t think a show of good manners is gonna help things.” He stopped when he reached her only long enough to squeeze her shoulder and brush his lips over her temple. “McGregor’s more dangerous than you think. Be careful,” he murmured before leaving the room.

She swallowed the plea for him to stay that she instinctively knew would prove pointless.

She wasn’t a teenager caught making out in her parents’ basement. She was a grown woman entitled to a life of her own and was going to act like it if it killed her. So she kept her focus on Tristan and his companion and raised her eyebrows slightly.

“When Cole stopped off here in Weaver to see Jason’s status for himself, I thought it would be a good opportunity for him to meet you,” Tristan explained in answer to her nonverbal query.

Hayley managed a smile she was miles away from feeling. “This is one of those times when a phone call in advance might have saved everyone some awkwardness.” She lifted the violin out of Coleman Black’s hands and placed it back on the shelf. The instrument had belonged to Casey’s grandmother, and several months ago, Vivian had assisted in getting it repaired when it had been damaged.

Hayley didn’t like seeing Coleman Black handle it.

And now he knew it.

She gestured toward the living room. “Have a seat,” she suggested. “I’ll just put on something more appropriate and be with you in a moment.” She didn’t wait for a response but sailed out of the kitchen.

As soon as she was out of sight, she tore up the stairs to the guest room, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste.

Moose was snoring in the middle of the bed, his head lying on top of her tennis shoe. Seth’s clothes were gone from the floor. She didn’t make the mistake of thinking he had just gone to take that shower.

He had just gone, period.

She couldn’t let herself think about the possible meanings behind that. Not yet. Not when she still had two other men downstairs to be dealt with first.

She pulled on her jeans and a sweater, twisted her hair back into a knot, stuffed her feet into leather loafers and went back down to do just that.

Rather than availing themselves of Casey and Jane’s highly comfortable couch or chairs, the two men were sitting at the dining room table. That worked as far as Hayley was concerned. It made her think about the conference room at her office where she often conducted group sessions and meetings.

With that in mind, she pulled out the chair at the head of the table. Then she sat down with her hands folded together on top of it. Just because they were in authority where Seth and Hollins-Winword were concerned didn’t mean they were in charge of
her
. Taking the position of power at the table might not matter to them, but it mattered to her.

Keeping a pleasant expression on her face, she focused on the newcomer. “Are you in town for long, Mr. Black?”

His aging, sun-weathered face creased in the faintest of smiles. Possibly amusement. Possibly appreciation for her unsubtle tactic. “I’m never anywhere for long, Dr. Templeton.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a simple statement of fact and decided that it really didn’t matter. “Then I won’t waste time here. If you’re expecting me to break my patient’s confidentiality and report on anything Mr. McGregor has said during our sessions, you’re going to be disappointed.” She let her gaze take in Tristan. “As I’ve already informed Tristan, it’s my professional opinion that Mr. McGregor is not feigning his memory loss. I am happy to continue working with him, but unless or until he divulges that he has committed a crime—” she eyed them steadily “—which he hasn’t even been charged with, or I believe he intends to bring harm to himself or others, my responsibility is to my patient. Ethically, I am bound to respect his right of privacy. With
everyone
,” she added pointedly. “Not just you, but those in my...personal life.”

“Your stance is commendable, Dr. Templeton.” Coleman’s voice was low. Gravelly. As if he smoked a lot, and perhaps that was his coping method given the responsibility of the position he held. “But there are other factors at work of which you may not be aware.”

“Does it involve actual criminal charges being brought against my patient?” She caught the look that passed between the two men. “I’ll take that as a no.” She unfolded her hands, pressed her palms against the table and rose. “Then I believe we’re done.” She smiled calmly even though inside she was shaking. “I’ll show you out.”

And that’s what she did.

She led the way to the front door, opened it and ushered them out onto the porch. “Safe travels, Mr. Black. Tristan, I’m sure we’ll be talking again soon.” She turned on her heel, went inside and closed the door on them.

And locked it.

Only then did she lean back against the wood panel and shudder.

* * *

“She just dismissed us,” Cole murmured when he and Tristan found themselves standing on the porch in the chilly evening. He pulled a cigar out of his lapel pocket, stuck it between his teeth and started patting his other pockets for a light as they walked away from the house. “When’s the last time you remember that happening?”

Tristan pursed his lips. He was pretty sure that, even back in the old days, such a thing had never occurred. Not with Cole, at any rate. “How much time have we got left before they yank Jason out of our hands?”

“A week.” Cole seemed to give up on finding a match. “Maybe two, tops, if I pull in a few more favors.” He tucked the cigar back in his pocket. “You didn’t tell the good doctor that she had a time limit.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t think McGregor would hold out this long.” Tristan exhaled a low oath. “He really can’t remember. He was a good field agent. I don’t want to believe he turned. And I don’t want him to disappear into some black hole created by the Feds because one of
our
cases crept too close to one of theirs.”

“It’s a messy business,” Cole agreed. They’d reached Tristan’s SUV parked on the street. “What about this business with Banyon? He know how closely we’re being watched on this one?”

“He will,” Tristan said heavily. He didn’t look forward to the task of disciplining Seth when—unlike Cole—he’d always been a proponent of allowing their agents to actually
have
a personal life. But it was more than clear that Seth’s self-control where the psychologist was concerned was nonexistent. Seth had admitted it himself when Tristan and Cole had shown up to see Hayley, only to catch the younger man looking
really
comfortable.

Tristan glanced back at the farmhouse owned by his nephew. Casey had been the analyst in charge of monitoring McGregor and his partners during their op and had taken their deaths hard. Even though he’d just married his perfect match and was happier than Tristan had ever seen him, his nephew was still struggling with his part in their undercover world. “You ever think that it’s time we got out of the game?”

Cole snorted, his craggy face actually breaking out into a rare smile. He pulled open the passenger-side door. “Even after all these years, you’re still green behind the ears if you actually think the game would ever let us.”

* * *

Hayley eyed the door to Seth’s apartment and blew out a breath. She’d tried calling him several times between her appointments that day, but he’d never answered. Nor had he made any attempt at returning the messages she’d left.

The last words he’d spoken to her had been about McGregor.

Now it was evening. And late because her Tuesday night group had gone longer than usual.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, balled up her knuckles and rapped on the apartment door. And when he didn’t answer, she knocked harder.

“He’s not there, honey,” a voice said from nearby, and she looked down below Seth’s apartment to see a skinny woman with fluorescent yellow hair watering her planters. “Saw him leave last night, bags and all.”

Hayley’s mouth dried. She clutched the wrought-iron railing. “Are you Mrs. Carson?” She remembered him once mentioning his observant neighbor.

“I am.” The woman’s head bobbed, weirdly reminiscent of a pecking chicken. “Three of ’em,” she continued. “Suitcases, that is.” She peered up at Hayley. “You was here before.”

Hayley smiled weakly. “Several months ago.”

“Eh.” The woman waved her hand, dismissing that. “Only one I ever saw him bring here. Makes ya’ easy to remember. He didn’t tell ya’ he was leavin’?” Thankfully, she didn’t wait for an answer. “Same way George left me.” Her lip curled and she dumped the rest of the water in her watering can on her plants. “Never figured Seth for the type, but men are men, I always say.” She looked up again and wrinkled her nose. “Three suitcases is a lot of clothes. Don’t waste your time waitin’ on him to come back. That’s my advice.” Her head bobbed a few more times before she disappeared through her front door.

Hayley was still standing there, feeling numb, when she saw the curtains in Mrs. Carson’s front window twitch.

She looked away and carefully made her way down the steps and back to her car, parked on the street in front of the small apartment building.

Don’t trust me
.

Seth’s words circled inside her head. For all of his talk about relationships, he’d still told her that.

Twice.

Don’t trust me.

She’d believed he was referring to McGregor. That Seth was warning her not to accidentally divulge anything about her patient that would jeopardize a possible case against Jason.

But maybe Seth had meant something different.

Her eyes burned as she climbed into her car.

Something very, very different.

Aching inside, she slowly put the car in motion, only remembering that she was supposed to be house sitting for Jane and Casey when she found herself parked in her own driveway and not theirs.

She shook her head sharply, scrubbed her palms down her cheeks and got out. She was here. She might as well say hello to her grandmother.

But when she let herself into the house, there was no sign of Vivian, either.

Oh, her clothes were definitely still there. Hayley was so upset that she checked. Vivian, for all of her idiosyncrasies, hadn’t just
left
as it appeared Seth had.

“Is there a problem?” Her voice sounded thin in the silent house. Her lips twisted.

Yeah. There was a problem, all right.

She just didn’t know how to recognize a one-night stand when it was staring her in the face. She was guilty of the same mistake so many others had made before her. Creating forever-afters out of molehills.

Shoving her hand through her hair, she left a note for Vivian that she’d dropped by and returned to Casey and Jane’s place. Moving like an automaton, she clipped Moose to his lead and took him for a walk around the block. She did what she advised so many others to do.

She did the normal thing. The mundane and usual.

Because that’s what it took, sometimes, to get through a breaking heart.

* * *

Her dad was mowing the lawn.

For as long as Hayley could remember, when the weather was good, that’s what Carter Templeton did on a Saturday morning. Mowed the lawn.