Read You're Still the One Online
Authors: Annabel Jacobs
"About five foot eight, I'd guess. Balding. He had a thick neck, like a bulldog on steroids."
Katie's eyebrows arched.
"What time was this?" Rick asked with a grin.
"Just after eight-thirty. He wouldn't give his name. He wanted to know if he could speak to you about a cheating wife, but he wouldn't give any details. Kept asking when you would return or if I knew where to find you. He wouldn't leave his name, a number, anything. I found it odd."
"So do I." Rick's gaze moved to Katie.
At the cool speculation in his dark eyes, her heart gave a sudden thump. "You think it's the guy looking for Tommy?"
"Or you."
She stilled, a chill skipping over her skin. "What do we do?"
"Watch our backs." He moved around the corner of Mary's desk and opened the door just beyond, which led into his office. "Thanks, Mary. We'll be in here for a bit. Could you put a call in to Carl, tell him I've got a computer I need him to check out?"
"Sure." Mary turned a warm smile on Katie. "It was very nice to see you again. I know you'll find your sister."
"Thank you." Kit followed Rick into his office, taken again with how a sense of him - protective, masculine, strong -- filled the room. It was easier to focus on that than dwell on the frustration and uncertainty about when she might hear from Grace.
Tommy's computer, plugged in and humming, sat on a round conference table to the right of Rick's desk. He slid into one of the leather chairs that circled the table.
Still spooked by the possibility that Henderson or one of his goons might have been here looking for her, Katie rubbed her arms and walked over to Rick. Being close to him made her feel steadier. Even though she knew she shouldn't lean on him emotionally, Katie found it difficult to rein in the urge. Especially since she'd had no word from Grace.
Why
hadn't she heard from her sister?
As he type commands into the computer, Katie tried to keep her gaze on the screen, not on his strong, elegantly tapered fingers. Or the way his face stilled in noble concentration. Mary's voice crackled over the telephone intercom, and she informed Rick that his computer expert couldn't pick-up Tommy's computer until after lunch.
Katie rubbed her neck, moved a few feet away. "I thought you didn't know much about computers."
"Just enough to poke around the hard drive."
She nodded, wishing she weren't so aware of his clean-woods scent. The latent power coiled in his broad shoulders just begged for a woman to lean her head there. The confidence that had been tempered from arrogance to a quiet, solid part of him touched a place deep inside her, a place she thought she'd walled up over the years.
That she was still attracted to him was something she no longer tried to deny. Her gaze followed his hands as he massaged the back of his neck. Would she ever
not
be attracted to him?
His gaze leveled on her. "Hello?"
She blinked. "What?"
"I asked if you knew how to handle a gun."
"Handle? You mean, shoot?"
"Yes." His lips curved.
"No. I don't have a lot of need to shoot people on my flights. I mean, they either want peanuts or they don't."
He chuckled as he glanced at his watch. "I think you should at least know how to load and aim. We have time before Carl's due. Let's go to the range."
"Let's not," she suggested brightly. She didn't want to know anything more about a gun than how to spell it. And something about being in close quarters with him caused a flutter of unease to move through her.
"Katie, I carry."
"Good. I don't."
"It'll also be a good frustration reliever."
"I'm not frustrated." At his look, she shrugged. "Okay, I am."
"If things get dicey while we're looking for Grace, I'd like to know you can defend yourself. Without shooting
me."
"Oh. I guess that wouldn't be good," she murmured.
"Well, thanks," he said dryly. "Seriously, I don't like what Mary just told us about our anonymous visitor. I'll feel better knowing you're at least familiar with my... weapon."
Perhaps it was because of her thoughts, but she could've sworn he hesitated over that last word, turned it on a suggestive edge.
His eyes glittered with sultry playfulness, a look she remembered too well.
Her heartbeat kicked up. She stepped quickly away from the table, bumping into the corner of his desk. "I'm ready."
His lips quirked, but he said nothing. She followed him out the door, smiling at Mary when the older woman winked at her. Just because Rick could still turn her stupid with
that
look didn't mean she was going to act on it.
Thirty minutes later, they were in a shooting range on the south side of Oklahoma City. It was cold and loud; Katie had never heard so many guns going off at once. The stringent burn of gunpowder hung in the air.
Rick set her up with a pair of ear protectors and guided her into one of the many partitioned-off stalls stretching the width of the concrete-floored building. Hanging the protectors around her neck, he leaned down and spoke loudly in her ear to be heard over the frequent crack of gunshots.
"I want you to handle my gun, okay? Just get a feel for it."
She nodded, her eyes widening as he laid a big handgun on the waist-high shelf in front of her. "That's huge."
"I hear that a lot." His eyes glinted, and she rolled her eyes, biting back a chuckle. "Now, pick it up."
She did, surprised at the heaviness of the weapon.
"This is a .357 Magnum. Automatic. The clip holds fifteen rounds; that should show somebody you mean business."
"I'll say." She had no idea how she would be able to use this thing.
He popped out the clip and showed her how to load the bullets, then slide the clip in. After she repeated his movements four times, he nodded in approval and directed her attention to the paper silhouette of a man's upper body.
The target was clipped to an overhead rod and hung about fifteen feet in front of her.
He leaned close, his breath a warm wash against her cheek. "Lift the gun and aim at the torso. You're going for the biggest area."
She shifted against the feel of his solid chest at her back, cursing the way his body heat seeped into her and prickled in her breasts. How was she supposed to concentrate?
She drew her bottom lip in with her teeth and focused on the target. The gun wobbled, and he put a hand over hers.
"Don't be afraid of it."
It wasn't the gun she was afraid of, but she wasn't about to tell him that. She gripped the handle, let her finger rest lightly on the trigger. Sensation hummed through her, dimming even the boom of a voice over the intercom system. She tried to ignore the way Rick's body silhouetted hers, all heat and power and teasing maleness. Tried to channel her frustration with Grace toward the paper man in front of her.
"Relax your shoulders." His hands settled there and kneaded for a second or two.
The feel of his hands, big and warm and safe, chipped away at her resolve to keep a distance from him. She stared blankly at the target.
"Center up through the back sight." He reached over and tapped the small metal V at the barrel's end closest to her.
Her gaze moved down the hard muscle of his arm, locked on the way his finger lay atop hers.
His hands curved around her hips, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Steady. Just relax."
How could she do that when her pulse had tripled? "I think I should use a different gun."
"No, mine. This is the one we'll have with us."
His voice stroked over her, fanning the heat that lined her belly. Her shoulders knotted even more.
"Loosen up." His hands flexed on her hips; he pressed against her back, burning like a furnace. Her heartbeat skittered.
Images surfaced, of other times he'd held her hips like this, guiding her down on him, gliding in and out. The gun wobbled in her grip.
He reached up, laid a steadying hand on top of hers.
"I don't think I can do this, Rick. I'm going to get someone killed, probably me."
"No, you're not. You're doing great." His other arm came around her, reached up to support her wrists from underneath.
She felt him, long and hard and lean against her back. She managed to raise the gun enough to sight the target. "What if I miss?"
"There's no one you can hit."
She snorted skeptically, struggling to keep her attention on the target.
"Sight, then shoot."
She forced herself to think past the solid feel of him, the way his hands felt on her.
Trying to remember all the things he'd told her, she emptied the clip, not quickly but steadily. When she finished, Rick chuckled. He reached over her and pushed a button on the wall, which brought the paper target zooming toward them on the overhead rod.
"Look at that." Genuine pleasure deepened his voice, and he pulled the paper from its clip, holding it up for her inspection.
There were several shots scattered down each arm and one in the neck, but there were four shots in the torso.
"I killed him!" she exclaimed.
Rick laughed. "Good job."
"I've never shot anything before!"
He rolled the paper into a cylinder and handed it to her. "We can practice again if you want."
"All right." She laid the paper to the side and turned back to load the clip as he'd shown her. She couldn't believe the sense of accomplishment she felt. Maybe it was due to the light of admiration in Rick's eyes.
He'd been right. This small break had drained some of the tension from her shoulders. As she slid the clip into the gun, her cell phone shrilled.
Her breath caught; Rick's gaze sliced to hers.
Grace! Finally. Katie fumbled in her purse for her phone as Rick eased the Magnum out of her hand.
"Grace!"
"Betty?"
The feminine voice on the other end was crackly with age and unfamiliar. Katie's heart sank, and a lump of emotion knotted her throat. "No. I'm sorry."
The woman apologized and hung up. Anger changed to disappointment then to concern so quickly that Katie could barely register the emotions. Tears burning her eyes, she punched the End button.
"Katie?"
She knelt to shove the phone into her purse. Her voice wobbled. "Wrong number."
"I'm sorry."
She straightened, worry colliding with frustration. Grace was all right, Katie told herself. She had to be. Katie covered her eyes with one hand.
"Katie?"
He touched her shoulder, and the small bit of control she'd owned shattered. She turned, buried her face in his shoulder.
For one heartbeat, he stiffened. She swallowed a sob, started to pull away.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
His arms went around her. She clutched desperately at him, willing herself not to cry. Leaning on Rick was the last thing she should've done. And the only thing she could do.
The need to be held by Rick had Katie trembling. As a sob rose in her throat, he rocked her close.
"It's all right, Katie. She'll call."
"When?" she demanded, turning out the sharp retort of intermittent gunshots. She let the strength of him soak through her palms, seep into the core of her. "What if something's happened? What if she can't call?"
"Hey." He pulled back slightly, his dark gaze penetrating. "She'll call. In the meantime, we've got people looking for her and Tommy, right?"
"Right."
"You're doing all you can."
"It doesn't feel like much." The sharp odor of gunpowder stung the air around them. They were closeted together in the partially obscured space, and she didn't want to let go of him. Holding him, being held by him, leveled her nerves. The acute disappointment over not hearing from Grace had caught Katie completely by surprise. The waiting gnawed at her and eroded the hope she harbored that Grace was in no danger.
Just the feel of Rick's strength wrapping around her washed away some of the bitter disappointment she'd felt over hearing a woman's unfamiliar voice. She shouldn't be leaning on him, breathing him in like oxygen, but how many times had she done this when they were lovers? She couldn't even count them.
All the times Grace had pulled a stunt and Katie had needed someone to lean on, Rick was there. It had been so nice to be able to trust someone like that. She'd always had to be strong for her dad and Grace. Rick had been the first and only man she'd ever allowed herself to need.
Gunshots popped around them, recharging the acrid scent of gunpowder. Exclamations of victory and disappointment echoed in the cavernous room. Her arms tightened around him.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"I'm not going to cry." She smiled at him. The dark heat of his eyes caught her, heightened the feel of his taut, muscular body against hers. "I know you're right. If something had happened to her, I think I'd feel it."
"You would." Rapid-fire shots stuttered nearby, and he leaned closer to be heard. "You've always had a good sense of these things, and more patience than Grace deserves -- sorry. I'll keep that to myself."
"It's all right," she said quietly, her body molding reflexively to his. Thigh to thigh, breast to chest. His crisp khaki slacks whispered against the light fabric of her pants. Was he as aware of that as she was?
His hands stroked her back. "You're strong, Katie. You always were. Taking care of Grace and yourself, your dad, too."
She stared at him. "You used to say that a lot."
He smiled, and her heart jumped straight to her throat. He brought up a hand, threaded it through her hair, then buried his fingers there. "Yeah."
Her nerves shimmered and she shifted, fitting her body against his even more tightly. His blue dress shirt, open at the neck, revealed the tap-tap of his pulse in the hollow of his throat. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the confirmation that she was in the here and now with him.
A voice boomed over the loudspeaker, the words mangled.
He dipped his head, his newly shaven cheek brushing hers. "You always had about five things more on your plate than anyone should have to handle. Sometimes including me."
He was apologizing? Surprise warmed her, and she murmured shyly, "I didn't mind handling you."
Heat flared in his eyes, and her breath caught. His gaze fell to her lips. The surrounding voices, the gunshots, the electric whir of the rods transporting paper targets all faded to a dull vibration. She could feel his heartbeat thundering against hers. His woodsy scent invaded her lungs, making her skin tingle. Her hands slid up his back; his fingers tightened on her skull.
Their breath mingled, starting a hum in Katie's blood. He was going to kiss her; she wanted him to.
"Trust me, we're going to find her."
Countless times when they were lovers, he'd held her like this, comforted her, listened to her worries about Grace. Why hadn't she realized that at the time? Back then, she'd focused on his assumption that she would marry and move away with him. Now, surrounded by his strength, familiarity washing over her, she was stunned how she'd forgotten this comfort.
His head lowered, his lips a fraction from hers. She wanted that kiss but couldn't quite a sudden voice in her mind. The scenario was exactly the same as in the past. Grace in trouble; Katie going to Rick. The realization jolted through her.
She looked down; he immediately dropped his arms from around her. Her whole body ached with frustration over the aborted kiss, but she knew it would've been a mistake. Rick knew it, too. She saw it in the clench of his jaw, the fire of irritation in his eyes.
She had walked away from him because she couldn't leave her family. The same reason had brought her back to him.
He stepped away, jammed his gun into the small of his back. "I know you're worried, but you're doing all the right things. The things you can control."
She nodded, her chest aching. How could pulling away from him hurt as much now as it had ten years ago? "What if there's somewhere else I should've looked? Someone I should've called?"
"Don't question yourself like that, Katie. It's not productive."
She rubbed her arms against the urge to step into his arms.
After a quick, impersonal glance, he turned in one lithe movement and started for the exit. As she followed, she felt the warmth of his body drain out of her.
Already she felt an emptiness inside, one that she'd felt for a lot of years after leaving Rick. The only reason she was with him now was Grace, and for the first time, she felt anger over her sense of family responsibility.
Could she have done things differently ten years ago? She didn't think so. Sliding a look at him, noting the tight jaw, the smoldering anger in his eyes, she wondered how she'd ever been able to walk away from him.
Rick flipped over in bed, punched his pillow for the fourth time and closed his eyes. The faint rise and fall of her voice down the hall told him she was talking in her sleep again, which served to trigger a flash of images through his mind -- Katie's sweet face turned to him this afternoon, her lips parting to meet his before they'd both realized what was going on and stepped back.
He'd wanted to kiss her. With the same mind-burning intensity he'd always associated with wanting to fly. And she'd pulled away. Damn it.
Even now, hours later, her soft floral scent taunted him. Rick could still feel her lush breasts pressing against him and the itch in his palm to touch them, peel those clothes off and do more than kiss her.
He hadn't been the one to call it quits ten years ago. She had always been the one to pull away, and she still was.
What reason did Kit have to pull away from him? He was the one who should've put at least the width of a shooting stall between them.
Feeling the tension in her shoulders, knowing she was more than distracted by waiting for Grace, he hadn't been able to stop wanting to reassure her, wanting to reach for her. So he had.
Stupid. Stupid.
He slid out of bed, went to stand in front of the window. Moonlight showered down on the patio. A fickle breeze played with the shrubbery and potted plants ringing the pool.
When she'd turned to him after that false-alarm phone call, sheer surprise had held him immobile for a half second. She seemed so damn self-sufficient, always had. But the feel of her in his arms had caused something inside his chest to shift. She was where she belonged, and it had been natural to draw her close.
She
was concerned about Grace.
He
wanted to wring her sister's neck.
He didn't see how things had changed much. He still wanted Katie, wanted her in his bed, but after that, then what?
They could become lovers again. After today, he knew she wouldn't take much persuading, but she'd cut his knees out from under him the first time. He couldn't survive that again.
He wasn't going to, period. His body had throbbed for her at the shooting range. It had been all he could do to hold her while he battled the urge to press her against that flimsy wall and strip her clothes off, push into her with all the fury and lust pounding through his body.
But there had been more than lust. A hollowness he felt deep inside, a hollowness only Katie could fill. And he knew that because he'd tried over the years to fill it with other women.
He'd wanted her, yes, but he also needed her. He'd only ever needed Katie. Rick slapped a palm against the wall and pushed away. disgusted.
Need?
What he needed was to keep a clear head and get a grip on his raging hormones. Employ some of the discipline he'd learned in the Air Force, for crying out loud. For once, he found himself wishing Grace
would
interrupt them. Pathetic.
One phone call from Grace would start a trail. Once they found her, Katie could get the hell out of his life.
That
was what he needed.
It hadn't been only the last few days of uncertainty over Grace that had kept Katie up all night. It had been the undeniable presence of the man down the hall, the masculine musk she'd smelled moments ago in the bathroom while she'd showered.
As she walked into the living room the next morning, she caught a flash of Rick's bare brown shoulder through the doorway leading to the kitchen. He moved out of her line of vision to the refrigerator.
The aroma of fresh coffee and spicy sausage wafted out to her. She paused in the doorway of the airy, clean-lined kitchen, watching him for a moment. He was always so alert, so intense; it was nice to observe him in a relaxed state.
"Yeah, the name's Henderson. First or last name," Rick said into the phone snagged between his ear and his collarbone. Standing over a skillet, he forked several patties of sizzling sausage to their other side. "I'm looking for someone who's been here for at least the two years or had ties here, someone who could've visited my missing person in prison."
He was talking to his uncle, she guessed. Barefoot, wearing only worn, snug jeans slung low on narrow hips, Rick was enough to make a long breath ease out of her. He was gorgeous. All over. Always had been. Her gaze skated up long runner'slegs to the tight butt and over the fluid flex of muscle in his back and shoulders.
She missed his longer hair, but the shorter cut emphasized the strength in his neck, the noble planes of his jaw. Her mouth went dry, and she shifted, drawing his gaze over his shoulder.
He held up a finger, indicating he'd be finished in a minute, and she nodded, moving into the living room.
"Okay, let me know what you find. You've got my cell phone number, right?
Rick's voice faded as she skirted the navy leather sofa, edged around the walnut end table, which held a cordless phone and a lamp with a black wrought-iron base. Her feet sank into plush gray carpet, complementing the pale gray walls and clean white woodwork.
She trailed a hand along the sofa's supple back as she slid her cell phone from her pocket and punched in her father's cell phone number. He'd left the day before Grace's disappearance to attend a pharmaceutical sales conference.
She could still feel Rick's arms around her, and a little ache of want to still coiled deep in her belly. Insistent, relentless. The comfort he'd given her at the shooting range had haunted her all night, spinning wishes for things she'd walked away from, making her
want.
Him. A different life.
As the phone rang on the other end, Katie swallowed against a ragged ache in her throat and walked to the patio doors. Rick had removed the pool's tarp and begun filling the pool with water. Patterned mosaic tiles, a single border around the top of the pool, sparkled green and blue in the early morning sunlight. Rising water glimmered.
Sam Foster answered the phone.
"Dad?"
"Katie! Have you found Grace?"
"No, not yet."
"Any word?"
"No." She hated dashing the hope in his voice.
"She'll call you honey. I'm sure she's fine."
Katie wanted him to believe that because she was no longer sure she did. She didn't want to worry her father by telling him about the bug Rick had found in her house or the tracking device planted on his car or the unidentified man who'd shown up at his office yesterday.