Had it only been a night ago? That incredible sex that seemed like eons past?
“I had to take a call,” she was saying. He noticed her lips. And realized that she’d just said something about having been on the phone with her mother.
“It’s two o’clock in the morning in New York,” he said.
“I know. Which is why I had to pick up. Turns out she couldn’t sleep and was missing me and knew that I’d still be up.”
“You’re a night person?” Hands in his pockets, he stood in the doorway, thinking that as much as she’d begun to consume his life, he should know something as simple as her sleeping habits.
He wanted everything—from social security number properly registered to Chantel Johnson on down.
“Always have been,” she said, stepping back, inviting him in.
He accepted, keeping his suit coat on as he sauntered past the bed and over to the wet bar.
A couple of crystal decanters were there, one with bourbon, one Scotch. They’d be top-shelf. No question there.
He eyed the bourbon. There was no real need for his sour mood. Julie would only be in legal danger if Chantel Johnson betrayed her. And what reason could she have for doing that? His trust issues were the problem. He was letting them control him. “You want a drink?” he asked.
“I’d love one.” She was watching him. The look in her eye reminding him of prey being circled. And he hated that he had that effect on her—making her feel cornered.
“What’s your pleasure?” He waited to pour her drink before helping himself to a shot of bourbon.
“Scotch.”
“With water?”
Her hesitation struck him, until she shrugged and said, “No, straight. And if that’s unladylike, I’m sorry. In New York, I drink it straight.”
More that he hadn’t known about her. So much of it stretched between them, causing him discomfort.
He poured and handed the glass to her as she came over to the bar and slid up onto a stool. He yearned for the skirt she’d had on earlier. It would have allowed him to slide off her panties and take her. Right there.
Obliterate all thought from his mind.
He slid onto the stool next to her, facing the bar.
“What’s wrong?” Her tone was soft, caring.
Looking into the small, gilt-edged mirror on the back wall behind the bar, he caught her studying him. He studied her right back.
And the world’s grime started to drip away from him. The games and the lies. The compromises of integrity and justice.
She was one of the more direct women he’d dated and probably the most perceptive.
She had her hooks in him. And, God help him, he wanted them there.
* * *
“JULIE AND I’VE been carrying our secret alone for a lot of years.”
She’d asked him what was wrong. He talked about secrets.
“Leslie Morrison knows.”
“She told you that, too.”
She was talking to his reflection in the mirror, and he hadn’t turned around to face her. She wasn’t sure why but played along.
“I asked.”
“Leslie knew before we agreed not to speak of that night.”
“You’re so afraid of retribution? What can these men do to you except get some money out of you?”
“Take away the last vestige of respect that Julie has. Look at her, twenty-seven years old, alone in her room on a Saturday night. Every Saturday night. She doesn’t date. She’s a shadow of who she once was, even after ten years. Do you have any idea what it would do to her to have it all brought up again? To have to appear in court? To lose a case in court and be ordered to pay restitution to the Smyths for the brutality she suffered?”
Of course she didn’t. Not even close. But she knew how it felt to have been fondled by her stepfather and have her mother blame her for the creep’s interest in her. He’d touched her breasts and...
Well, what mattered was that eventually Chantel had kneed him in the balls. When her mother had calmed down, she’d divorced the guy and done all she could to make it up to Chantel. But some scars didn’t go away.
Ever.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Colin. I’m not going to hurt Julie. I want to help her.”
The last statement was completely, 100 percent true. The former, that Julie wouldn’t be hurt, she hoped would be true. She’d fight to the death to see criminals pay for their crimes. But she was neither jury nor judge. She was only the guy who got the thugs. It was up to others to take them to justice.
“Julie told me that she talked to Leslie back then because your mother told her that Leslie was the one woman she’d trust above all else.”
“I didn’t know that. But I know Mother trusted her.”