You're Still the One (6 page)

              He went abruptly still. She could feel it even from his distance. She glanced over, noted the rigid set of his wide shoulders, the way even the water seemed to stop moving.

              He tilted his head back, stared at the star-studded sky. Moonlight slid down the column of his long throat. "I developed night blindness. Botched a landing, and the requisite exam showed a pretty severe case."

              "Night blindness?" She stepped toward him. That explained his sudden swerving on the way to Davis and again on the way back. "Are you okay? How severe?"

              "Not so severe I can't drive," he said dryly. "But I can't fly jets, that's for sure. At least not for the Air Force."

              "I had no idea." She found herself at the edge of the hot tub, looking at his face, half hidden in shadows. "I know how much you wanted that."

              "I had six years, and they were great." He reached for the towel behind him and stood, water sluicing down his body. His hard-muscled,
naked
body.

              Her eyes widened and she whirled around. "You could give a girl some warning."

              "I suppose. You know I don't generally wear a suit." There was a tightness in his voice that made Katie ache deep inside.

              She'd forgotten that he liked to do things in the nude. He'd never been as concerned about his nakedness as she had been about hers. She remembered the time they'd gone skinny-dipping at the university pool after hours. How their splashing and teasing had turned to stroking, their water slicked bodies sliding hotly against each other.

              Her throat dried up. She wanted to touch him, and laced her fingers together against the urge.

              "You're safe," he said wryly. "It's not like you haven't seen all of me before."

              She turned, relieved to see that he had wrapped the towel low on his lips. His chest was fuller, more defined that it had been when they were lovers, but still sleek and devoid of hair. All the way to the towel hanging low on his hips.

              "After I was discharged, I came back to Oklahoma, to be near my folks."

              She remembered his parents as very loving, their family close. Rick was their only child, something she's wished for herself during some of Grace's more moronic moments. Vina and Dale Powell had been extremely accepting of her, but Katie wondered how they'd fee about her now. She hadn't seen them since rejecting Rick's marriage proposal, hadn't talked to them at all.

              She had sensed no regret in Rick's voice that he could no longer fly fighter, but surely he felt it. He had dreamed of flying fighter jets his entire life. His whole college career had been planned around that. And to have to give it up? It had to be frustrating, at the very least.

              I'm sorry," she said.

              His head came up; those black eyes lasered into hers, "For what?"

              "The night blindness."

              "I dealt with it."

              "Still, it couldn't have been easy."

              "It wasn't. What do you want, Katie? To see a little blood?"

              "No," she gasped, lifting her chin against the stab of hurt his words caused. "No."

              "Sorry." He moved around the hot tub, stopped a few feet away from her. Close enough that she could feel the heat from his body pulse against hers. After a long look at her, he faced the night, studying the sky. "That wasn't fair."

              "It's all right." Was this what they'd come to? She really thought she'd moved past the regret, the resentment. Evidently not. And neither had Rick. Or had he?

              Her curiosity had driven her out here. Maybe she should just let things be and go back inside. She turned to go.

              "You're right." His words stalled her movement. "It wasn't easy. At first I was pissed all the time. Felt sorry for myself for quite a while."

              "Which was probably one reason you went after that missing child," she suggested quietly.

              He looked at her, thoughtful, his Choctaw features noble and proud in the moonlight. "Probably."

              A faint smile curved his lips, and Katie couldn't keep her gaze from moving down the corded column of his neck, the sleek breadth of his chest. Her gaze rose to his, and she realized he's seen her watching him. A flush heated her cheeks and she looked away.

              "So you took up private investigations. Lucky for me."

              He moved behind her, heat and shadow against her back as he edged around and walked slowly to the end of the pool. "Right. I like what I'm doing now. I'm good at it. It offers me the chance to help people, sometimes in desperate situations. And my night blindness doesn't hold me back. I can't fly jets for the Air Force, but I can still fly sometimes. And I have a job that matters."

              "It does matter." She met his gaze across the few feet that separated them, wishing she understood this strange mix of regret and exhilaration. He still got to her, she admitted, but now she knew what was different about him.

              He had assumed, but not ordered, that she would stay at his house. And he'd asked if she had a better idea. In college, he wouldn't have given a thought to any idea different from his own. He was still confident, probably more than most men, but no longer arrogant. His confidence had always held high appeal for her, and without the sharp edge of his youth it sent a shaft of warmth through her. Made her want to stay out on the patio and talk about nothing with him all night long. Which was dangerous.

              "You seem to love investigation. You certainly seem to know what you're doing."

              "I try." He glanced at her. "And what about you, Katie? Do you still love flying? Working in the air?"

              "Yes." She smiled, her stomach jumping as he walked toward her. The towel parted to reveal a glimpse of ropy muscles in his thighs. Dark eyes glittered at her, and her nerves fluttered. "I was transferred over here almost four years ago. Grace moved in with me two years ago."

              "After Tommy went to prison."

              "Right."

              "And do you have any regrets in your past?" His tone gave nothing away, but in that moment she was hit with a muscle-clenching sting of regret.

              She had never allowed herself to wonder if things might have worked out between them. The possibility that she could have made a mistake had been too much for her to deal with, in addition to the pain of walking away from him. But she wondered now. Staring into his deep black eyes, she wondered if he ever thought about it. How long had it taken
him
to get over the rejection?

              She didn't kid herself that he had remained uninvolved all these years. He was too gorgeous, too gentlemanly, too darling to have remained unattached, and celibate, for the past ten years. But for one brief moment, she wished he had. She wished it with everything in her. Still, that was none of her business.

              His gaze probed hers, and she felt as if he could sense the regret rolling through her, see right through her as he'd always been able to. "I'm sorry, you know." Her voice cracked, but she kept her gaze locked on his. "I never meant to hurt you."

              He closed the distance between them, his gaze sharp as steel. "I know that. Now."

              She blinked back an unwelcome burn of tears. "Do you understand why? Did you ever?"

              "You said it was because I was too controlling." His gaze roamed over her face, lingered on her mouth before returning to her eyes. "Now I see that I never asked you to marry me? I just told you we were getting married."

              "I should've said something long before that day, but I found I couldn't. I liked so much about you and I liked having someone to make decisions for me."

              "At first," he reminded wryly.

              "Yes, at first." She shoved an unsteady hand through her hair. "Have you... were you able to forgive me?"

              A long pause. The air between them ached with regret, unspoken works. "Yes."

              "Really?" Her heart leaping, she moved another step closer, trying to read his eyes, full of secrets she'd never share. She read a hesitancy in him, couldn't tell if resentment lurked beneath it or not.

              "I have, Katie."

              "I hope so. I honestly never meant to hurt you. I was stupid--"

              "We were both
young
," he corrected firmly.

              She nodded.

              "Hey, I'm okay. Things happened the way they should have."

              "Do you believe that?" she whispered.

              He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then lifted a hand and stroked her hair, his palm brushing her cheek. She resisted the urge to turn her face into his hand.

              "Yes, I believe it."

              "Then we can work together? Put the past behind us?"

              His body tensed; his eyes darkened. Was she asking too much? Could she even ask it of herself? "Be friends again?"

              "Friends," he murmured. His hand slip around her nape, warm and strong against her flesh. The slight pressure of his touch urged her toward him.

              Staring into the midnight darkness of his eyes, Katie's mind froze for a moment. Her body pulsed with the clean, male scent of him, the brush of his hard body against hers, the all-too-familiar feel of his hand in her hair. He was going to kiss her, and though Katie told herself that was a bad idea she didn't pull away.

              She waited, wondering, hoping he wouldn't follow through, then wishing he would.

              His gaze devoured her, and Kit felt her belly pull tight in anticipation. Her lips, and her pulse shot into orbit.

              Lost in the swirl of cool air and body heat, the scent of him filling her, she raised her arms, but before she could embrace him, he stopped. Dragged his gaze from her lips and met her gaze looking dazed.

              "Bad idea." he said in a choked voice.

              "Yes." She nodded. "Bad."

              He dropped his hand and stepped away from her, leaving her feeling exposed, alone. "I think we can manage that."

             
Manage what?
Katie wanted to scream. Just like at her house, her mid was foggy with the want that had roared back to life when she'd gotten within a foot of Rick.

              "We were friends once, right? We can do that again."

              His voice sounded rough, almost hoarse. He flashed a quick smile and turned for the house. "Better hit the sack. We've got an early morning."

              She gritted her teeth in frustration that she'd let herself be seduced, even for a minute. For some reason, his words unleashed a deeply buried resentment in her. "Still issuing orders, I see."

              "And you're still dropping everything to rescue your sister." His features hardened; that generous mouth flattened.

              "Which you could never deal with."

              His jaw tightened; he turned for the doors. "I just wanted you to have your own life."

              "You wanted me to have
your
life."

              He halted, shoulders stiff and forbidding. Then he looked over his shoulder at her. "Touché."

              Regret bit deep; Katie wished she hadn't said that.

              They stared at each other for a long moment. "Now we've both got our own lives," he said flatly.

              "Yes." It was what they'd both wanted, why they'd split up in the first place. So why did that feel so hollow to Katie?

              He opened the doors and waited this time, looking at her questioningly. Recognizing the truce he offered, she moved toward him.

              Katie bit back a groan. Her sister was not worth this! When she found Grace, she was going to strangle her. In the meantime, she had to stay on her guard. Keep a civil tongue. Live in the present, not the past.

              Could they be only friends? Was she kidding herself? His kiss could still reduce her to a puddle of hormones. Attraction simmered between them just as strongly as it ever had, an attraction she had to fight. She couldn't get involved with Rick again. She'd never gotten over him the first time.

CHAPTER 5

              Things had gotten too personal last night. Rick had hurt her and he hadn't meant to. He'd nearly kissed her, too. Hadn't meant to do that, either.
Wasn't
going to do it.

              As he slowed on Lincoln Boulevard, then flipped his signal to turn left into the parking lot of the District Eight Sub-Office of Probation and Parole, he slid a look at Katie. She looked cool and composed, as usual, in slim-fitting turquoise pants and a matching fitted jacket. In the soft morning light, there was no sign of the shock or the hunger he'd seen on her face last night. And he'd seen both those things.

              Finding a slot near the door in the crowded lot was impossible. Rick finally found one in the back row facing Lincoln and whipped the 'Vette into it. First on his list this morning was talking to Tommy's parole officer. A couple of phone calls to Kyle Walker had yielded the exact location of the parole officer.

              Rick's mind only half-occupied with the case, he recalled the shock that had widened Katie's eyes last night when he'd gotten out of the hot tub. He couldn't help a smile. He had done that not only to see her reaction, but also because he knew she'd stop looking at him as if he were the much-anticipated cream in a sandwich cookie.

              Sure enough, she'd turned away. Still, he'd caught a flash of hunger in her eyes, and that had caused his entire body to harden. Even this morning, he felt tight and... restless.

             
Friends.
Her request whispered through his mind. Could they be friends? He didn't see how, but he
could
do this job. That's where he needed to keep his focus. He'd find Grace and somehow keep from strangling her for all she'd put Katie through.

              He killed the engine but left the keys in the ignition in case Katie might need them while he was inside. He channeled his mental energy to the skittery Grace and Tommy, not the memory of Katie's gaze on his body, not the torture of the invitation in her eyes last night when he'd nearly done the ultimate in stupid and kissed her. Not the fact that he'd been up all night trying to ignore the fact that she was in the next room.

              "I should only be a minute."

              She opened her door and stepped out. "I'm going with you."

              He pinched the bridge of his nose and got out, finding her gaze across the top of the car. "Trust me on this. The guy'll be more likely to talk if there's only one ofus."

              "You mean, if there's only you."

              "Well, yeah."

              "Forget it." She shut her door, hooked the thin strap of her cordovan leather purse over her shoulder and headed for the stairs leading to the front doors.

              It would take as long to argue with her as it would to go in and ask the guy questions. Rick let out a slow breath, pulled his key out of the ignition, locked the door and followed. It took deliberate effort to keep his gaze from the exposed velvet of her neck. Or the graceful line of her back. Or the slight sway of her hips. He caught up with her, and his strides quickly outplaced hers.

              Once inside the cool, spacious building floored with gray-veined tile, he paused a moment at the information desk to ask a harried-looking bottle blonde for directions to the office of Daniel Parker. A few minutes later, he and Katie walked down the hall and through twin glass doors lettered District Eight Sub-Office of Probation and Parole.

              The massive room, easily filling half of the entire first floor, was crammed with desks and paperwork in every corner. Putty-gray filing cabinets crowded between the large windows staring out at the building across the street, in corners behind paper-strewn desks. Phones rang. Men and women in sedate suits worked at their desks, maneuvered the narrow space between desks or bent over filing cabinets. Constant, frenetic motion.

              Toward the back wall, Rick spotted a wood-grained nameplate identifying the desk of Daniel Parker and made his way through a twisted path of chairs, files and outstretched legs of parolees sitting at other desks. Katie picked her way behind him, sticking close.

              Parker, a fortyish, washed-out looking guy, was crumpled from the crooked part in his hair to his rumpled gold-on-brown tie. His desk sat in front of a large window, which looked out over a treed yard.

              Rick introduced himself, then Katie as his associate.

              When she stepped forward, the man jumped out of his chair, wrestled a pile of files off a creaky wooden chair and placed it in front of his desk, indicating it was for her.

              "Thanks." She smiled and sat down, perching on the edge of the chair.

              Rick dismissed the impatience that bit at him over the man's solicitous attitude. "I'm looking for Tommy Harrington."

              Parker frowned. "Tommy should be at work. He works at Thoma Computer Systems."

              "Not today he doesn't," Rick said.

              The muffled ring of a phone sounded, and Parker pushed aside a mound of paperwork, snatched up the receiver. His gaze was riveted on Katie. "Let me call you back," he barked at the caller. After scribbling a number on the top of his desk blotter, which Rick couldn't even see until Parker shoved aside more paper, the parole officer hung up.

              "Sorry." Parker dragged his brown gaze from Katie, who shifted on the chair, and shot Rick an uneasy look. "Now, what's this about Harrington not being at work?"

              The man's gaze returned greedily to Katie, and Rick squashed the heat that flared in his chest. He explained that Tommy had skipped town.

              "I spoke to him just this morning," the other man protested.

              "Did he say where he was?"

              "No, but it was a local number." He pawed through reams of paper on his desk, then leaned over to flip through a calf-high stack of pressboard folders. "I checked my caller ID."

              Rick slid a look at Katie. "Could Tommy rig something on the phones to give out a false number?"

              Katie nodded.

              Parker blew out a breath and flopped back in his chair.

              "Of course! He's a genius with computer and phone stuff. Why didn't I think of that?"

              "You had no reason to think he'd skipped down," Katie offered.

              Parker smiled at her, erasing some of the fatigue and transforming his features from homely to average. He pulled his gaze to Rick, who was biting off an order for Parker to keep his eyes in his head. The other man said, "I'll have one of my investigators get on this."

              The phone rang again, and Parker grabbed it up. After a short exchange, he hung up. "Sorry. Why are you looking for him?"

              "Miss Foster's sister might be with him."

              "Are you planning to go after him?"

              Rick shrugged noncommittally. "I'm just trying to help Miss Foster find her sister. We thought you might know something."

              "No." Baker's mud-brown gaze measured Rick for a moment. "I have to report it."

              "Of course," Rick agreed blandly. Parker could do whatever he wanted; so could Rick. His gaze panned over the stacks of paper, the wobbling mountains of files. "If we find him, it would save you some paperwork."

              "True." The parole officer glanced at the sea of paperwork on top of and surrounding his desk.

              Rick pulled out a card and handed it to him. "I'd appreciate a call if you hear anything. I'm willing to reciprocate."

              The other man slicked a hand over his hangdog features, then took Rick's card. "Deal. Give it your best shot."

              "Thanks." Rick turned to go, glancing at Katie.

              She rose, pausing in front of Parker's desk. "Thank you."

              The man nodded, frank male appreciation lighting his eyes. Rick clenched his jaw and put himself at Katie's back as they left.

              He closed the door behind them, wondering at her silence as they walked outside.

              "The more people looking, the quicker we'll find them," Rick offered.

              "I know." She pushed a hand through her hair. "I think that man will help us. He seemed overworked and a little... lonely, but honest."

              Parker had been flat-out panting after her, but leave it to Katie to downplay that. Still, her assessment about the overwork and honesty mirrored Rick's. Had she always had such good instincts about people? He'd never noticed it. Of course, when they'd been together before, his assertiveness could've overshadowed that quality in her. What else had he missed?

              The thought intrigued him, but he refused to go down that road. Instead, he forced his mind to the scant information he'd gotten from Tommy 's PO as he drove to the highway, then took the north exit off the Broadway Extension en route to Thoma Computer Systems.

              He tried to keep his mind on the case, tried to screen memories of Katie standing in front of his hot tub, the breeze molding her thin blouse to her high breasts.

              Her scent, her heat whispered around him in the car. She was everywhere -- in his mind, in his space. And he resented it. He might have to take her with him, but he didn't have to monitor her every move, he told himself even as he felt her shift beside him, thread her fingers through her dark hair.

              His chest closed up, and he pressed the accelerator harder. When he'd nearly kissed her last night, he'd seen invitation in her eyes, and as much as he was tempted to lose himself in the taste of her, feel her body come alive beneath his hands again, he wouldn't let her have another go at his heart.

              They reached a four-story brick and glass building identified by a huge metal sign as Thoma Computer Systems, one of the largest employers in the Oklahoma City area. This time, they were directed to offices on the second floor. After a few minutes, Rick and Katie were shown in to see Tommy's boss, Brandon Townsend.

              Their visit was short, as Townsend was able to provide only the information Tommy had given on his job application              .

              When Katie leaned forward and asked if they might speak to Steve White, a man Tommy had befriended, Rick gave her a thumbs-up. No doubt she'd spent her entire life hunting down Grace to get her out of one scrape or another.

              Mr. Townsend's tall, red-haired secretary led them down a long, waxed corridor and around a corner. Conversation, which had been muted as they passed office doors and a conference room was nonexistent at this far end of the building. The woman stopped in front of a steel door marked Personnel Only and knocked. When there was no answer, she opened the door, poking her head in.

              "Steve! There are some people here who need to talk to you about Tommy Harrington."

              Still no answer, but the woman stepped away from the door, smiling. "You'll have to go in. He won't hear a thing until you're right on top of him."

              Rick arched an eyebrow.

              "He's a little distracted when involved in a project, but I'm sure he'll answer your questions."

              "Thank." Rick smiled as the woman left them.

              He opened the door wider, indicating that Katie precede him. He ducked to get through the door, then found he could stand to his full height once inside.

              The muted fluorescent lightning revealed they were in a long, very narrow closet. Machines hummed. Frigid air blasted from vents overhead. As he and Katie moved slowly forward, the walls pressed in on him.

              They neared a long mainframe computer, which stretched along the wall to his right, and he turned to negotiate the narrowing space. His shoulder bumped Katie's.

              She stiffened.

              "Sorry," he muttered. Hell, he hadn't done it on purpose. "Mr. White?" Rick called, his voice sounding thick and low in the confined space.

              On the wall in the back of the closet, a small lamp glared on the blond head of a man and the earpiece of a pair of black frame glasses.

              "Mr. White?" Katie stopped a few feet from him.

              A young man - Rick put him in his twenties - peered around the corner of a rectangular casing, which stood as high as Katie's waist and fit against the mainframe like the top bar of a T. He blinked. "Yes?"

              "I'm Katie Foster and this is Rick Powell."

              "I'm a private investigator, Mr. White. We're here about Tommy Harrington."

              "Is he all right?" The man, thin with bony arms and fingers, straightened. "He didn't show up this morning. We were supposed to work on this mainframe together."

              "We think he's fine." Rick tried to squeeze between Katie and the bulky computer so he could get a good look at White. As he edge forward, his shoulder nudged Katie into the wall. "Sorry."