“Since the moment I met you. I was afraid that I couldn’t let go.”
“You don’t have to. Not yet.”
“No. Not yet.”
He took her hand and guided it to his new erection. “Being with you turns me on so much that I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I just want to be inside you.”
“Jericho,” she said softly as she caressed his face, her hands sliding down the strong column of his throat, over the heavy pectoral muscles, to his waist. She pushed at his shoulders until he was beneath her. She reached for a condom and sheathed him.
As she accepted him into her body, she tried not to want more, but she did. She wanted to talk to him, to see the fire in his eyes when he spoke about his work, his dedication to it. She wanted so much more than his body, but unfortunately, that’s all she’d bargained for. That and a souvenir.
CHAPTER10
It was still dark when Kate woke. The sound of soft piano music came from the living room.
She got out of bed. It had taken them time, but they’d finally moved to her room. She tripped over her jeans and a metallic clinking made her bend down. She reached into the pocket and pulled out his cuff links.
She’d totally forgotten about them. She slipped them into the pocket of her silky robe and went into the living room.
He was at the piano, his fingers moving slowly, caressing the keys. His chest was bare, the faded denim jeans molding his hips and long legs. His bare feet pressed the pedals and caused a little quiver to shudder through her. His head was tipped back, his eyes closed, and from his fingers flowed and whispered strains of a haunting, beautiful sound.
She watched as he played, her eyes centering on his long-fingered hands, so big and competent.
The baby grand had been a gift to herself. It had to be hauled up to her apartment, a major undertaking, but she’d wanted the gleaming instrument. It symbolized beauty and artistry. Things that were lacking in the stark world of forensic science. It was her job and she did it well, enjoying the sheer mind power it took to unlock the mysteries of crime. But there was another side to her.
The side of grace and beauty. The hunger to explore and develop something that had never been encouraged as she’d grown. Teachers had loved her mind and had pooh-poohed her penchant for music. But Kate had never let it go. Hence, the baby grand and the music sitting on it.
It touched something inside her to see Jericho moving the white keys and bringing forth sheer beauty from the instrument, something she could only strive to do.
Kate tucked her hands into the pockets of her robe, fingering the cuff links with her right hand, the metal warming to her touch.
Jericho made no move to acknowledge her presence, even when she sat beside him on the piano bench. He went on playing like a man in a trance, his long fingers stroking the keys with the care of a lover. The song rose and fell, melodies twining around one another, wrapping around Kate, and taking her into another world, a world of stark poignancy and thundering emotion. Every note swelled with longing. A lingering, hushed beauty filled the silences in between.
This was what hid behind the other Jericho, the man with the formidable, determined ambition and the aura of danger—loneliness, beauty, artistry. The realization struck a chord deep within her, and she closed her eyes against the surprise. How many other layers were there? How many Jerichos? Which one was at the core of the man? Which one held his heart?
She closed her mind to the questions and laid her head against his shoulder, too overwhelmed by feelings to think. Always a very bad sign for her. She had held herself in tight check for a long, long time against emotions that had tried to surface. But now, with no defenses against him, she was unable to fight. The feelings rushed up through her chest to her throat and clogged there in a hard lump. The tears came sliding down her face, spiking her lashes and dampening her cheeks.
Jericho’s hands slowed on the keyboard as the piece softened to its close. His fingers crept down to touch the final note, a low minor chord that vibrated and hung in the air like the echo of a voice from the dark past.
“That was beautiful.”
“Do you cry at the opera, too?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been.”
“We’ll have to remedy that.”
“You play so well.”
“My mother insisted.”
Even though he settled his fingers on the piano keys once again and started to play something slow and bluesy, she caught the caustic note in his voice. Slowly she straightened away from him, her gaze sharp and direct. “What do you mean?”
He continued to play until Kate cupped his chin and turned him toward her. He smiled without humor. “Only that it was the best education for me and that included music. I don’t have anything against my mother. She’s a delightful woman. It’s the system that bothers me.”
“The injustice of it?”
He turned back to the keys. “You are very perceptive, Kate. Do you want to know the boring details of why I became a prosecutor? What formulated my insatiable pursuit of justice?”