Still the One (13 page)

“Ritchie Sheldon.” Kit paced to the opposite side of the bed, tapping one finger on the brass footboard. “No, she went with him to the prom her junior year.”

Rafe rose, followed a few steps behind.

“Um, Tony Gibson. No—Ben Doyle.” She snapped her fingers. “Ben Doyle.”

She turned, nearly ran into Rafe’s sleek, bare chest.

He nodded. “Okay. Ben Doyle.”

“No. Not him.” She sidestepped him, wishing he would put on a shirt. Or a blanket. Something. “He drove a pickup.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Rafe growled.

“She said the guy she went with drove a red Camaro, not a pickup.” Her head started to throb. Why couldn’t Liz have just told her? “Oh, wait! Benji. Benji.” She paced to the head of the bed, then to its foot, trying to picture Liz in her first prom dress. She’d worn a low-cut black dress that year. What was that guy’s name?

“Benji who?” Rafe’s every step stalked hers.

She turned, looked at him through slitted eyes. “There’s a reason I’m not spitting it out here, Blackstock. Benji…” She closed her eyes, his face floating into focus. He’d been gorgeous, dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin. “Wexler! Benji Wexler!”

“Okay, Benji Wexler. Is it Benji or Wexler she’s trying to tell us?”

“Wexler. She made sure to say it was a specific Ben. Go by the last name.”

“Okay, let’s check it out on the Internet. See where we can find Wexler, America.”

Instead of going into his study, Rafe strode down the hall to his bedroom, and she followed. The neon green screen of a notebook computer blinked from a small rolltop desk in front of one of his wide windows. He straddled his chair, used his mouse to click up a box and dial onto the Internet.

She walked in and stopped as his scent curled around her. Her gaze went immediately to the king-size bed in the center of the room, which was attractive and unmistakably masculine. Deep greens, stormy blues, a wicked thread of scarlet were jeweled slashes of color against the pale gray walls and carpet.

The straight-edged bedframe, mirrored dresser and high-boy spoke of hand craftsmanship and painstaking, honest labor. The walls boasted more black-and-white drawings like those in his office, but these depicted biplanes and early model jets. Next to his window hung a framed oil of Rafe’s three horses, chasing each other through a meadow Kit recognized as being close to the creek.

She felt like an outsider and couldn’t deny the fierce longing that suddenly clutched at her. To belong to this room, to
him.
She shook it off and walked over to stand at his elbow, leaning close to see the screen.

Once online, Rafe found a search engine, then typed in
the words
Wexler United States.
Kit paced behind his chair, her satin nightdress skimming her knees as she walked.

She stopped, peered over his shoulder again. “They can’t be far. Or can they? A car can cover a lot of ground in three days, right?”

“It’s hard to know what they’ve been doing, Kit. They could’ve been driving this whole time or they could’ve been hiding out in some hotel somewhere. Even here in the city.”

“She should’ve called me before now,” Kit muttered. Skirting his elbow, she looked over his shoulder again. A Web page was loading. She sighed, made another trip around his chair.

She turned, caught his gaze skimming her legs. A cool politeness slid into his eyes. Hating the heat that inched across her skin, she arched a brow. “Anything yet?”

He glanced casually at the screen. “No. It’s coming.”

She paced to his bed, wrapped a hand around the short, squared newel post of the dark rustic footboard. His plaid comforter, in tones of blue, teal and burgundy, was cornered neatly on the plump mattress. The closet door was closed, hiding rows of clothing she suspected hung as ruler-straight as the navy and green towels she saw through the half-open bathroom door.

Turning, she thought she caught him looking at her again.

She ignored the sudden clench of her heart. “Well?”

“It’s coming. Okay, Wexler. Florida.”

“That’s too far.”

“So is…Georgia.”

“She said she’d once thought about moving to this place. Look for California, New Mexico, Texas, Kansas. Of course, those are just the ones she told me about. There could be others she didn’t, just like she didn’t tell me she was seeing Tony again.”

“It’ll be something you know,” Rafe soothed.

Kit was doing her darnedest to keep her gaze off his broad, copper shoulders, the way his sleek muscles flexed and shifted as he bent over the keyboard. He’d acted all day as if she hadn’t crawled up his chest at the creek. As if he hadn’t had his hands and mouth all over her.

“Aha, Wexler, Kansas.”

“Yes!” She rushed over, leaning close to read the screen. Rafe’s scent, fresh male underlined with soap from a recent shower, reached out and twisted something inside her. Something hot and primal, something lonely. “That’s got to be it.”

“Kansas.” He typed something; another screen appeared. “Looks like it’s about a three-and-a-half or four-hour drive from here. It’s in the southeastern corner of the state.”

“I’ll call my bank in the morning and have the money wired.”

“Don’t wire it.”

She straightened. “What? But I told her I would.”

He tilted his head to stare thoughtfully at her. “Let’s
take
the money. Drive up there. You want to find her, don’t you?”

Kit smiled slowly. “You’re brilliant.”

He shrugged. “Just doing my
job.
”

She didn’t miss the way he emphasized the word
job.
So, she hadn’t imagined the flare of pain in his eyes when she’d thrown out that threat earlier. She’d regretted the words the second they left her mouth. Regardless of what had happened between them, Kit didn’t trust anyone else to find her sister. She just had to remember that’s all she could trust him to do.

“I brought fresh clothes from my house earlier,” she said. “I can be ready first thing in the morning.”

“Me, too.”

She started out of the room, encouraged that she might see her sister in less than twelve hours.

“Good job on deciphering that puzzle from your sister. She’s nuts.”

She glanced back. “Thanks.”

“Shouldn’t take us too long after finding them to wrap this up. We’ll get them somewhere safe until Tony can get what he needs, get him some backup from the FBI.”

She nodded. By this time tomorrow, she’d be with Liz. And her time with Rafe would be nearly over. The realization that they could be this close to parting slid a hot needle of regret through her.

Didn’t he feel any of that same regret? She could read nothing in the guarded, black depths of his eyes. Nothing about what had happened between them at the creek. He appeared unaffected, as if it hadn’t happened, but it had. She wouldn’t forget it; she didn’t want him to, either.

Impulsively, she said, “I meant what I said at the creek today.”

He looked startled; after a moment, he said, “So did I.” She saw in his eyes that he really had. He wasn’t going to give them another chance. He’d moved on; she had to do the same.

Trying to breathe past the aching tightness in her chest, Kit left the room.

E
ven as Rafe drove Kit to her bank the next morning, the blood still pounded hot in his veins. The image of her in that drop-dead-red nightgown made his pulse hitch even now.

She sat in the soft leather seat next to his, close enough that he could feel her warmth. All morning, she’d been polite and reserved. But he noted the way she drummed her fingers nervously on her knee, fidgeted in her seat.

He was tense, too, but maybe not for the same reason. It wasn’t that her fluttery slip of a nightgown had bared too much, but that he knew exactly what she looked like under that gown. He clenched and unclenched a fist, downshifted to turn into the parking lot. The memory of those long, sleek legs disappearing beneath berry satin, high breasts peaking with just a look from him chipped steadily away at his common sense. Had they only been together three days? It felt like a lot longer.

I meant what I said at the creek.

He’d told her he had, too. Told her he wasn’t going to give them,
her,
another chance. Right now, he didn’t feel one bit sure.

Hope, something he thought he had squashed years ago, had flared at the earnest promise in her smoky blue eyes. She made him almost believe that she could really commit completely to him.

Morning sunlight glittered off the large tinted windows of the bank. He swung the ’Vette into a empty space near the front door.

Kit opened the car door, glanced at him. “Any advice?”

“Small bills. You don’t want anything that might call attention to Liz and Tony.”

“Right.” She smiled, the motion easing some of the fatigue in her features. “Be back in a minute.”

Rafe nodded, his gaze riveted on her as she moved onto the concrete walk, then disappeared inside. Those khaki slacks curved over her bottom just the way his hands had yesterday. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white.

He shook his head and told himself to do something productive. Surreptitiously, he checked the side and rearview mirrors. No sign of the silver sedan he’d shaken a couple of days ago. None of the other cars in the parking lot had followed him here. The cars passing on the busy street behind him didn’t repeat. So far, so good.

Rolling his shoulders, he focused on leveling out his pulse, tried to erase the pictures of Kit that still teased his mind. Considering the fact that he felt like his brain had shut down due to pure lust, he thought he’d done a damn fine job of keeping his thoughts, and his hands, to himself last night.

She walked out of the bank and toward the car, her pink cotton sweater molding her breasts and tucking snugly into the thin waistband of her slacks.

As she moved toward him with athletic fluidity, something hot balled in his chest. Something fierce and possessive that he refused to examine. He glanced away, rubbing a hand over his face.

She slid into the car, reaching to put her purse on the floorboard behind him. “I withdrew sixteen hundred dollars. Do you think that’s enough?”

“Yeah.” Her too-careful tone indicated that she was trying to include him even while maintaining a distance. Which was exactly what he was doing.

He reversed out of the parking space as she fastened her seat belt.

Keeping an eye out for a tail, he headed east on 122nd Street toward the Turner Turnpike. They’d cruise through Tulsa, stay on I-44 East until they neared Wexler.

Beside him, she shifted in the seat, first angling away, then toward him. She reached over and changed the radio station. A rollicking country tune by Vince Gill filled the car. She drummed her fingertips on her thigh.

Rafe kept his gaze trained on the road, but his thoughts seethed. Last night, he’d wanted to tumble her onto his bed, make love to her with no thought about how that would skew things. And it definitely would. Getting naked with Kit would only cloud the issues between them, and he was through letting her confuse him.

Just thinking about those hot, desperate kisses they’d shared at the creek yesterday edged his hormones up an unnecessary notch. Feeling crowded, restless, he settled into his seat, leaning one shoulder into the door.

She reached up and changed the radio station again. As Rafe identified the bluesy soul of Eric Clapton, Kit’s soft wildflower scent drifted to him, had him tightening his grip on the steering wheel. This case was nearly over. He hadn’t done anything stupid yet. He could last until they met up with Liz.

Somehow he
would
last. Rafe wanted Kit more fiercely than he’d ever wanted anything, including to fly jets. He’d never connected with any woman the way he still did with Kit. And he shouldn’t want to connect with her. He knew what she could do to his world, his heart.

But what he hadn’t known was how well they would really work together. Last night, for the first time, they’d been a full-fledged team. She’d let him know immediately that Liz was on the phone. She’d asked his advice, followed his suggestions.

Even without his prompting, she’d tried to get the right information out of her sister. The old Kit would’ve bristled if Rafe had told her what questions to ask, listened in on their phone conversation. This Kit, the one who was even now making his palms damp, had let him in. Just like she’d said she intended to at the creek.

He liked it. Knew he could easily come to crave that give-and-take like an alcoholic craved his first drink of the day. She’d actually depended on him. He recognized that it was satisfaction filling him, rather than the frustration he usually felt when dealing with Kit and one of her family situations.

Quickly, he tamped down the emotion. He couldn’t let himself trust that. Right now, he was all she had. That was why she leaned on him.

Liz’s prolonged silence had eroded the strength Kit wore like armor. But once she had her sister safely rescued from this latest fiasco, things would probably go back to the way they’d always been. Kit taking responsibility for everyone and everything, giving all of herself to her family with nothing left for anyone else.

She punched the radio buttons again, then again. By now, he’d heard everything from Gershwin to Boy George.

He slid a sideways look at her. “You nervous?”

“Anxious, I guess.” She answered carefully, raked a hand through her short, mink-dark hair.

“It’ll be over soon.”

“Yes. I can’t wait.” The smile she aimed at him was a combination of relief and uncertainty. Then her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, I didn’t mean…not because of you.”

“I know.” He smiled.

She flashed a shy smile that jolted him to the soles of his feet.

His gut hollowed with want. No matter how he ached to pull her under him, make her go all liquid and limp the way he knew he could, he couldn’t afford to let down his guard, couldn’t trust her not to hurt him again. Rafe rubbed his neck and eased out a long breath between his teeth.

He needed a clear head, and to get that he needed some space from Kit. After they met up with Liz, he’d no doubt have all the space he wanted, and then some.

He looked at her, the fan of her velvet lashes dark against pale cheeks, the straight, classically boned nose, the stubborn curve of her jaw. Thought about the promise he’d seen in her eyes last night, how they’d worked together like two people who trusted each other implicitly. It wasn’t lost on him that they were both making an effort to stay on opposite sides of the invisible line he’d drawn last night.

A dull ache settled at the base of his skull. The only thing he could let himself think about was getting to Liz. He couldn’t deal with the confusing tangle Kit was making of his thoughts, his mental balance.

Rafe had really moved on. Kit had spent last night and all this morning forcing herself to remember the unyielding decision in his eyes, his unwillingness to give them another chance. He didn’t think she could give him all of herself. And he had every reason to doubt. She doubted, too.

She had to accept his decision, accept that they were
really over, but the four-hour drive to Wexler, Kansas, hadn’t brought her any closer to letting go. At the thought, pain squeezed her chest. She slid a look at him, and he glanced over before returning his attention to the road.

In his eyes, she saw the same wariness she’d seen the day she’d walked into his office asking for help. With a pang of bittersweet pleasure, she let her gaze wander over him, admiring the profile of carved cheekbones and jaw, the bronze column of his throat, the smooth V exposed by the opened top of his button-down denim shirt.

She remembered his kisses yesterday, hungry and desperate for
her.
She was trying to stay out of his way, follow his lead, but what she really wanted was to get smack in his way. They’d never be lovers again, but they were partners.

She told herself that was good. Tearing her gaze from him, she studied the scenery. They passed acres of farmland, trees heavy with freshly greening leaves, and finally a sign welcomed them to Wexler, population just under forty thousand.

Being alone with him was what made her wish for things to be different, made her regret walking away from him. Once they found Liz, Kit wouldn’t be alone with Rafe anymore. That would help her find the common sense that seemed to have deserted her yesterday at the creek, help squash the urge to beg him to reconsider. Or, if she’d had any hope that it would do any good, to seduce him. But she’d seen that no-trespass look in his eyes before. She didn’t have the guts to try it.

Deep down, she knew it was because, no matter how much she wanted him, she couldn’t promise that things would be different. Couldn’t promise that she could really give up all the responsibility she’d grown used to carrying for everyone else.

She laced her fingers together, trying to calm her jangled
nerves. Just a few more hours and they’d find Liz. Then Kit would get some much-needed space from Rafe. She could do this.

They topped a hill, and he slowed according to the speed limit signs. A charming town spread out before them at the base of the hill, green and lush and built around a square marked by four white stone pillars as well as rectangular planters bursting with red geraniums.

Following directions Kit had gotten by calling the check-cashing business where Liz had instructed her to send the money, he turned right off the exit ramp.

They pulled onto the city’s main street, called Center. A half mile brought them to a stoplight. Gas stations took two corners and a newspaper office another. The fourth corner belonged to a locksmith. Past the stoplight was the original section of town, restored to historic glory and steady with foot traffic.

Downtown Wexler boasted businesses on both sides of Center Street. Parking spaces fronted stores that looked as if they could’ve been there since the turn of the century. A computer business and an Internet company gave evidence to the fact that even this small town had moved into the new millennium. Stoplights marked each block and, as Rafe drove, Kit kept an eye out for their destination.

They passed two jewelry stores, several antique stores and restaurants, a real estate office and a bank. Just past the third light, at what looked to be the end of town, Kit saw the sign for Check It Out, the business name Liz had given her. “There it is.”

Rafe swung into the first available space several doors down and they both got out.

Check It Out was snugged between a pharmacy and a jeweler, its front matching the tall plate glass of all the other businesses. Red-and-white striped awnings stretched over the wide, brick walkway, providing shade from the increas
ingly hot June sun. Butted against each intersection light pole, square concrete planters held flowering dwarf fruit trees and gave a quaint charm to the prairie town.

Kit snagged her purse from the back of the car and stepped up the curb to join Rafe on the bricked walk. Her soft-soled shoes made no sound as she and Rafe walked two doors down.

Feeling his gaze on her, she turned her head.

He looked at her, considered for a moment. “If they’re hiding out, she may not be in there.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t want you to be upset if we don’t see her right off.”

She smiled at him, remembering how he’d tried to reassure her after they’d learned of Eddie Sanchez’s murder and the increased danger to Liz and Tony. “Thanks.”

He nodded and opened the door for her.

Kit stepped inside the small open space. Several copy machines crowded the wall to her left, whirring with activity. Across from her, a small counter was protected by a tall sheet of glass. There were only a few customers moving around the worn carpet, none of them Liz. Kit didn’t panic. She had the money Liz needed; her sister was here somewhere.

A thin-faced man peered out from behind the glass. “May I help you?”

Rafe touched her elbow, then let go as if he hadn’t meant to touch her. She swallowed a sting of hurt and walked with him toward the counter.

She smiled at the clerk. “I wondered if you’d had anyone waiting for a money wire this morning?”

Rafe slid Liz’s photo across the counter and through the space underneath the glass. “This woman.”

“Yeah.” The man, whose name tag read Ronnie, looked to be around thirty. His long brown hair was pulled back
in a ponytail. His hazel eyes were curious as he studied the picture. “A woman named Liz. She had blond hair, though, not dark. She took off quite a while ago. Said she couldn’t wait any longer.”

“How long ago did she leave?” Rafe asked.

The guy pursed his lips as he returned the picture. “More than an hour, probably two.”

Kit stuck the photo in the side pocket of her purse. “Did she ask you to forward the money wire anywhere if it came in?”

“We can’t do that. She just muttered something under her breath and flew out of here.”

“Did you happen to notice her car?” Rafe asked.

“No, I sure didn’t.” The man’s gaze slid to Rafe, and he leaned forward. “She acted like she needed that money pretty bad.”

Evidently Rafe didn’t feel the need to elaborate. He simply asked, “And she didn’t give a phone number in case the wire came in?”

“Nope.”