Her eyes swept over the bed. Experience, at least the kind of experience she'd endured, changed everything, even the simplest of life's pleasures....
The stillness in the room told her Sebastian wasn't digging into the food as she'd expected. She turned to find him watching her, his expression tinged with surprise and curiosity.
"Is there a Mr. Burke?" he asked.
The tone of his voice told her he knew she'd been thinking about sex, knew 103
she was hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food. But, regardless of the promise inherent in such a perfect body, there was nothing he could do to satisfy her. She wouldn't let him, or anyone else. She couldn't. She was incapable of lowering her guard to the degree making love would require, especially with a stranger.
"I'm a widow," she said. "But I might as well be married."
"You're seeing someone, then?"
"No." She didn't bother to explain.
He put the picnic basket on the dresser next to a flat-screen TV and waved toward a bottle of white zinfandel on his nightstand. "Would you like a glass of wine?"
"No, thank you."
Undaunted, he uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass. "I'm sorry to hear about your husband's death." He took a sip. "How long ago was it?"
She regretted turning down the wine. Maybe it would help settle her nerves, take the edge off. "It's been nearly five years."
"And...you're still in love with him?"
She chuckled without mirth. "God, no."
His eyebrows knotted as he walked toward her with his wine. "What happened?"
When she didn't answer, he set his glass down and took her hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over her
survivor
tattoo. "Did he have anything to do with this?"
Like an old heater with a pilot light that'd gone out years ago, she didn't think she'd ever get warm again. But his touch sent a spark through her that somehow made her shaky.
Surprised, she jerked her hand away and stepped back, but in just half a foot she came up against the bed.
"Whoa, I didn't mean to scare you." She was still within his reach, but he didn't attempt to touch her again. He held out his hands, palms up, as if to show her he had no intention of hurting her.
The last time Oliver had made love to her had been a cruel experience, one of the worst in her life. In some ways, it had hurt her more than the violence that'd followed because it involved hate disguised as love. But Jane knew it was her past--and nothing Sebastian was doing--that had her so rattled.
Overriding her panic, which seemed to come out of nowhere, she forced 104
herself to stand where she was, instead of edging farther away. "I'm not scared."
He seemed unconvinced but didn't argue. "Did he do this to you?" He pointed to his own neck, but she understood that he was talking about her scar.
"Yes."
He lowered his voice. "How'd he die?"
From the deference in his tone, she knew he was guessing she'd killed Oliver in self-defense. She'd often wondered if that would've made her recovery easier--or more difficult. "After he left me for dead, lying beside his murdered brother, he attacked a woman he'd attacked once before, a woman by the name of Skye Kellerman."
"The woman who started The Last Stand."
"You've been doing your homework."
"I pulled up the Web site."
"Skye knew he'd be coming for her eventually." She shrugged. "She was ready for him when he did."
"She killed him."
"Yes."
"It didn't say that on the Web site."
"No. She doesn't talk about it, either. But she was prepared to do what had to be done. She had the benefit of knowing what he really was. I didn't."
Sebastian shoved his hands in his pockets. "What was he exactly?"
"A serial rapist and murderer, masquerading as a dentist, a husband, a father." Her voice dropped involuntarily. "My lover."
He whistled. "How did you survive such a brutal injury?"
"His knife missed my jugular by a fraction of an inch. Skye brought the authorities to my house before I could bleed out."
"This Skye sounds like an impressive woman."
"She is. That's partly why I work for her." Jane motioned to the picnic basket. "You'd better eat. The food's getting cold."
He spoke over his shoulder while reclaiming the basket. "You're not planning to eat with me?"
She had been. She'd fed Kate, then loaded her daughter and the food in the car and raced to her in-laws' place, thinking she'd have dinner at the motel. But she felt too jittery for food right now. She wasn't sure why Sebastian's touch had affected her so deeply. She'd been alone with men plenty of times since Oliver's 105
death--at work, at home, in the car. She'd been fine.
But she'd never been this attracted to any of them. That had to be the difference--that and the fact that they were standing next to a bed.
"I've already had dinner," she lied and tilted the screen of his computer so she could avoid the glare of the lamp. "Wesley Boss isn't
WhosYourDaddy,
is he?"
Sebastian decided to make Malcolm wait. He didn't want to come across as too eager, didn't want it to seem as if Mary was always online, hoping to hear from him. The role he was playing would be more believable if Malcolm had to work for the attention he craved. Earlier, Sebastian had sent an e-mail from Mary, thanking him for the flowers. That would suffice until after dinner.
Jane sat at the desk, sipping the glass of wine she'd finally accepted when he was halfway through his meal. "I don't think I've ever seen a human being eat so much in one sitting," she mused as he polished off a second gigantic piece of lasagna and yet another slice of garlic bread.
"I was lucky. I grew up in a home where my mother cooked. I miss that."
She swiveled in the office chair, back and forth. The nervous energy in that motion told him she wasn't quite as comfortable as she was hoping to seem.
"Where's your mother now?"
"Upstate New York."
"Is she still with your father?"
Full at last, he put his plate aside. When he'd asked her for dinner, he'd assumed she could cook, and he'd been right. "No, he passed away a decade ago."
"I'm sorry."
"It was a blessing in the end," he said, remembering those difficult days.
"What happened?" He doubted she would've asked had he not been so direct with her.
"After being perfectly healthy his whole life, he woke up one morning and started convulsing. Then he went into a coma. My mother got him to the hospital right away, but when he came to--" he shook his head "--when he came to, it became obvious that he'd suffered quite a bit of brain damage."
Concern softened the hint of suspicion with which she seemed to view him.
"What caused the convulsions?"
"A rare infection that'd gone straight to his brain. There was no warning, nothing we could've done to stop it."
106
"How terrible!"
It had been terrible. Although Sebastian was grateful for the time they'd had at the end, he and his mother had spent three long years looking after Angelo, knowing he'd never recover, knowing how much he'd hate being so helpless. It was during that dark time that Emily had married Malcolm. Sebastian had been far too preoccupied with his job, his father and taking his turn as a custodial parent to pay attention to the kind of man she was dating. He wasn't sure he would've been able to spot trouble even if he
had
paid attention. Malcolm was a cop, and cops were supposed to be safe. "As I said, it was a blessing in the end. I think he wanted to go."
"Your mother hasn't remarried?"
He pictured his trim, attractive mother. She looked twenty years younger than her age, but she didn't seem interested in the men who asked her out. "No."
Jane crossed her legs. "What does she think about you chasing after Malcolm?"
"I think she'd prefer it if I gave up and came home."
"But you can't."
After what he'd learned about Jane, he was sure she understood why. "No."
"So you have to hire strangers to cook for you and then you eat a meal for ten all at once."
He refilled her wineglass. "When you leave, the food goes with you, right?"
"I'd let you keep it, but it doesn't look as if there's a fridge in this room."
"There's not." He poured himself more wine. "You see my dilemma."
Apparently pleased that he liked the food, she smiled as she sipped from her glass. It was a pretty smile, one that contrasted with the caution in her eyes.
He didn't know exactly what had changed, but her coming to his room had somehow altered the chemistry between them. He'd realized she was attractive when they'd first met. He couldn't miss that. But the two of them sitting here alone made him far too aware of her on a physical level, far too aware of the possibilities.
As if to avoid the awkwardness that sprang up with any silence, she turned to his computer. "Looks like Malcolm's getting impatient."
"What's he saying?"
"'Hey, where are you?'" she read.
"Tell him you had to get the kids to bed."
107
"You're kidding, right?"
He couldn't imagine why she'd think so. "No."
"That'll only remind him that Mary's an exhausted mother. What's sexy about that?"
"It might not be sexy, but it's believable. It's something the real Mary might say."
"He won't care if what we say is believable. People who have online relationships are usually trying to fulfill a fantasy."
Again, the bed seemed to take up all the space behind them. "Are you talking from experience?"
"No. I can't afford to have fantasies."
"Everyone has fantasies, Jane."
"Okay, then I could never afford to fulfill mine, especially with someone I couldn't see. There are a lot of perverts on the Internet. There's no way I'd expose my daughter to another man who could be like her father."
This brought up a subject Sebastian had been curious about. "Did your husband ever hurt Kate?"
"That depends on what you mean by hurt," she said. "He didn't physically molest her, but he killed her uncle and hurt those she loved most. Living with that knowledge isn't easy. And there's always the genetic factor, you know? The question you'd ask yourself late at night--am I even remotely like him? Kate sees this scar on my neck every day, and she knows who put it there."
He pulled the cushioned chair from the corner and placed it beside her so he could see the screen. "Is she in counseling?"
"She was. We both were for a while."
"Did it make a difference for you?"
"It did. But doing what I do at The Last Stand has made a bigger difference."
"Fighting back."
She nodded. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Are you getting any counseling?"
"No."
"You should. It might help."
"Seeing Malcolm go to prison for the rest of his life will help more." He motioned toward the computer monitor. "So Mary can't talk about her kids. What 108
do you suggest she say?"
She typed: Thinking about you. Then she raised her eyebrows, asking his permission to send it.
"Go ahead." He'd tried a similar approach last night and it hadn't gotten him anywhere, but it was a start.
The response came almost immediately.
WhosYourDaddy: You can't think while we talk?
Jane began to type again. I'm afraid talking will only make me more confused.
"Where are you going with this?" Sebastian asked.
"You'll see," she said and sent it.
WhosYourDaddy: I've confused you? About what?
I think I'm falling in love with you. Jane looked over at Sebastian. "Is it too much?"
"Judging from past transcripts, I'd say so, but..."
"He wants to conquer her, wants to feel safe, as if there's no way she'd reject him," she said. "Let's give him that."
He had to try
something
different; he was getting desperate. He nodded, and she hit the enter key. Again, Malcolm's answer popped immediately onto the screen.
WhosYourDaddy: I'm already in love. I've been in love with you for years.
Jane had been right. Malcolm was going for it. But Sebastian was a little uncomfortable that there hadn't been much transition between his and Mary's more cautious chats and this. Were the flowers enough to explain it? Sebastian didn't want to tip Malcolm off....
Just in case, he took over the keyboard and typed: All from meeting me at one party?
WhosYourDaddy: From making love to you so many times in my mind.
109
"Things are heating up," Jane breathed and typed the next entry.
BrownEyedGirl: When will you do it for real?
Sebastian caught her before she could hit Enter. "He's got Mary's address."
"We have to draw him into the open. Until then, he'll be a threat to her regardless. And Latisha and Marcie don't have forever."
She had a point. They needed to put an end to this.... "Okay."
Jane sent it and they waited.
WhosYourDaddy: You want me in your bed?
Sebastian deferred to Jane, who responded.
BrownEyedGirl: Now. I can't wait any longer. I dream about your hands on my body, about feeling you move inside me.
Sebastian tried to separate Malcolm's fantasy world from his own reality, but it wasn't easy when he was sitting in a motel room with an attractive woman who'd looked at him the way Jane had earlier.
WhosYourDaddy: Sometimes that's all I think about.
BrownEyedGirl: The thought of it makes me wet.
Shifting to ease the tightening in his groin, Sebastian told himself to ignore the deluge of testosterone. But images of making love to Jane filled his head.
WhosYourDaddy: I should've sent you roses ages ago.
BrownEyedGirl: I'm going to Fresno this weekend. Meet me there.
"Fresno?" Sebastian said, even though she'd already sent it. "Fresno isn't the most romantic place."
"Do you have a better idea?" she asked. "It's about halfway between here 110
and L.A., not too far to drive. And it would allow him to see me and keep pretending he lives down south."