Читать книгу In Close - Brenda Novak - Страница 12

5

She got him to come to the door. He was groggy and half-asleep, but that was okay. She preferred him to be half-asleep. Had he been any more alert, he might’ve questioned her, made her grovel, maybe even refused her to pay her back for ignoring the attempts he’d made to reach out to her. She’d never forget how upset he’d looked when he chanced upon her and David in the forest shortly after they were married. Isaac didn’t care about her, but he was possessive enough that seeing her with another man bothered him, probably more than he wanted to admit. He’d never reacted with jealousy any other time.

As it was, he seemed a little startled when she pushed him back into the house the moment he opened the door. He asked what was going on, but when she switched off the light he’d just turned on and reached for him, he figured it out fast enough. Becoming instantly alert, and hard just as quickly, he welcomed her into his arms. Then his breath shortened and his hands grew very purposeful as they made their way beneath her clothes.

“That’s it,” she murmured, but she was thinking, At last, when her T-shirt hit the floor and his mouth, with its perfect lips, found her breast.

Allowing her eyes to close, she surrendered completely. She could no longer recall why she’d been denying herself. There were reasons, of course. Just none she was willing to list right now.

When her hands clenched in his thick black hair and she began to gasp, he groaned in appreciation of her eagerness and picked her up in his arms.

Briefly, she thought of his stitches, wanted to caution him not to do anything that could rip them out, but he didn’t seem to be worried or in any more pain than she was. Maybe they were both high on meds. She would’ve laughed that something as unforeseen as an attack could bring them together after the protracted battle she’d fought to stay away. But she knew in her heart that it wasn’t a laughing matter. She’d be sorry tomorrow.

When he placed her on the bed, she expected him to back off long enough to remove the jeans he’d put on to answer the door, expected him to get right down to business. He’d won, hadn’t he? Surely he’d want her to know it, to prove it to her in no uncertain terms. This wasn’t a sweet and gentle lovemaking session likely to progress slowly. She hadn’t meant it to be. Sweet and gentle was David’s territory. When she had sex with Isaac, the need to get closer and closer consumed her. He made her buck and moan.

But he didn’t seem willing to leave her yet, not even for the few seconds taking off his pants would require. He pinned her beneath him, hands above her head, and kissed her in a way that left her in no doubt that he craved what she’d denied him for the past decade.

Soon Claire was so sensitive to his touch she could hardly contain the building excitement. No wonder she thought of Isaac so often, had to fight the desire to visit him on a nightly basis. It’d only been a year since she’d slept with her husband, but it’d been a decade since she’d slept with Isaac. She wasn’t sure how she could feel so strongly about him when she loved David as much as she did, but it was true.

Letting go of her wrists, he covered her breasts with his palms. She could feel his hard length pressing into her stomach as he gently tweaked her nipples. Then she was trying to remove his pants because she couldn’t wait a second longer.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured as he helped rid them both of what remained of their clothes.

She didn’t believe him. How could he miss her if he’d never cared about her to begin with? He missed the sexual release she could provide. Somehow, whatever magic he held for her, she seemed to hold for him, too. They were both cursed.

Or she was projecting. Maybe it wasn’t that way for him at all, just male pride or the refusal to believe he could lose her to someone else. Otherwise, he wouldn’t care that she’d moved on.

Too bad the past went much deeper than merely a release for her. She’d been in love with him. Maybe she still was—a little, anyway. That was the part that frightened her, that made her fear it’d been a mistake to come here. She wasn’t sure how she’d ever find the strength to let go of him again. Not without David to make the difference.

But that was something she’d have to deal with later. For right now, for this moment, she was going to take everything Isaac could give her, grab it all before she had time to rethink her actions or regret them or even acknowledge that this was how it should’ve been with David.

“No one can make love like you,” she whispered.

He froze above her, as if she’d slapped him instead of complimenting him. “That’s what brought you back?”

Did it matter? He had what he wanted. “Yeah. It…it hasn’t been easy for me after David. But this is better than being alone. And since you seem to be free for the night, you don’t have anything to lose, either.”

Silence. Then, “He made you happy.”

“Yes.” And yet she was glad it was Isaac touching her now. But she didn’t add that, because it made no sense.

Isaac shifted so he could rest part of his weight on the bed. “Then…this means nothing to you.”

His voice sounded slightly strangled. She thought it was odd that he’d even ask. He’d certainly never asked before. But they’d been young. And they’d ended badly. She rushed to reassure him that he didn’t have to worry about her acting like a lovesick fool this time around. “No, I’m still totally in love with David. You don’t have to worry.”

“Worry?”

“That I’ll want anything more from you.”

“I see.” She felt his chest rise, heard him take a quick breath.

His reaction confused her. “You’re relieved, right?”

“Of course. David was a…a great guy, a perfect husband.”

“He was everything to me.” Just saying it brought tears to her eyes. David was generous, kind, consistent, transparent. Yet here she was, asking for more of the one thing Isaac could give her, and that was ecstasy.

Still supporting himself on his elbow, Isaac wiped away her tears. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to be lonely....”

Was he being sarcastic? His touch was so…gentle. Damn him. Why did he have to complicate everything?

She tried harder to clarify what she meant. Didn’t he believe her? Was he remembering the last time, how sickeningly she’d clung to him? “We won’t have to acknowledge it ever happened.”

“Maybe you can pretend I’m him.”

That was impossible, but she wasn’t about to explain that no one could compare to Isaac, not even David. “Sure. Maybe. Or it can be like…like it was for you before,” she reminded him. “Just…physical. We don’t have to tell anybody.”

She thought he’d be happy that she’d made it so easy for him. He was the one who didn’t do well with commitments. When she’d told him she loved him the last night they were together, he’d panicked, said he wasn’t the marrying type, that she should find someone who’d make a better husband. He’d even said she was stupid to think he could ever fall for her. So she’d moved on. She’d gotten back together with David, but David had been taken away from her, and now she had nothing.

Except this highly erotic, clandestine meeting with her former lover.

“It’ll be our little secret,” he said.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes.” She didn’t want to start any rumors, didn’t want to answer any questions about him. And she certainly didn’t want to explain to her sister why she’d gotten involved with Isaac Morgan again—not after she’d just warned Leanne to be careful about who she spent time with. “That’d probably be best.”

When there was no response on his part, no movement, either, she began to feel uncertain. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replied. But something told her that wasn’t quite true. The way he touched her, the way he made love from that moment on, was different. It almost seemed as if his stitches were hurting him. She asked if he’d changed his mind, but he didn’t answer. He gave her what she wanted, at least on a physical level, but only with his mouth. He refused to fully make love.

She wasn’t sure if he was out of condoms, or he was trying to withhold the one thing she wanted more than any other—to feel him inside her again after so long. Maybe it was neither. Maybe he’d lost his desire for her and she’d only imagined the unbridled excitement she’d sensed at the beginning, because he wouldn’t even let her satisfy him in return.

He finished as if he was merely servicing her, then rolled over to go to sleep, and she lay awake, feeling like an idiot. Why was she asking for more of the same mixed signals, the same confusion, she’d endured ten years ago?

The smell of her was everywhere. On his pillow. On his sheets. On his skin.

But she was gone.

Thank God. It was too hard to have her lying next to him, knowing her presence in his bed didn’t mean he had the second chance he’d been hoping for. When she’d walked through his front door and let him know she wanted him, he’d thought they could go back to the way it used to be, that he’d have the opportunity to start over with her.

But that was crazy. She was still in love with David; she’d said as much. And he couldn’t possibly compete with a guy like that. David had been Pineview’s golden boy. He’d had no rough edges, no unsavory past. To make matters worse, now that David was gone, he’d practically been canonized. Saint David.

Trying to minimize the strength of the scent that lingered, Isaac shoved the blankets off him. Maybe David was now a saint, but Isaac was still human and would never be able to outdistance his past. He’d been kicked out of school so often he couldn’t remember the number of times. He’d dropped out before he could graduate. He’d been thrown out of the Kicking Horse Saloon for fighting on several different occasions and had spent a few nights in jail as a result. He’d once been chased off with a shotgun when he’d dared to date a girl whose father felt she was too good for him. And, as his crowning achievement, he’d stolen a car on a dare just before he turned eighteen and served a few months in juvie.

What he’d created with his career had come as a surprise to everyone. He made more money than most people around here. The residents of Pineview didn’t know the half of it. But no one considered him to be safe or reliable. They admired him, were attracted to the celebrity he’d gained, but they were afraid to really embrace him. In short, it was generally understood that he wasn’t a good bet.

He squinted against the light streaming into his bedroom, then rolled away from the window. He hadn’t hung any blinds. No one lived close enough to see into his house, and he didn’t mind the sun. He typically woke early, just as he had today. He liked to get moving, had more energy than he knew what to do with.

But he wasn’t ready to get out of bed this morning. He felt like he’d been run over by a logging truck, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t blame that sensation entirely on his latest wound.

Reminded of his injury, he removed the bandage and bent his head to see the neat row of stitches.

“Great. I’m looking more like Frankenstein’s monster every day,” he said through a yawn. He’d probably have another scar—this one right over his heart. That seemed fitting. As far as he was concerned, he deserved whatever he got when it came to Claire. She’d offered him her love, and he’d rejected it. He’d told her he didn’t care about her, even though everything she’d said was exactly what he’d longed to hear. He’d spoken the truth with his body—many times—and would’ve done so again last night if she hadn’t told him he no longer mattered to her. But he couldn’t verbalize his feelings. It had been too hard for him to believe her love wouldn’t wane the minute he began to return it, to count on it. His past was too much of a hurdle. His own mother had left him standing in front of Happy’s Inn when he was five years old, had driven off into the sunset and never come back. He’d waited in that spot every day for two months before he’d gotten the point that she’d meant to leave him behind when she let him out to go to the restroom and buy a candy bar.

He still wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if Old Man Tippy hadn’t taken him in. No doubt he would’ve been sent to an orphanage somewhere. But when Tippy volunteered, the law sort of looked the other way so he could have a new home without all the red tape—and it was a good home, for the most part. Tippy had been kind. He’d put a roof over Isaac’s head, provided the basics and taught him everything he knew about photography, which he’d spent a lifetime studying. But he hadn’t lived long. At sixteen, Isaac had inherited all of Tippy’s video and photography equipment, along with the little shack they’d shared on Crystal Lake. He’d upgraded the equipment more than once, but he still owned the shack, and went there on occasion. He’d been alone ever since Tippy’s death and that was how he felt safest. If he was alone he didn’t have to worry about being left.

Refastening the bandage over the stitching that held his skin together, he sat up. It was after Tippy died that he’d really begun to act out. He’d been so angry and self-destructive, so unable to control his own emotions, that Pineview hadn’t known how to handle him. The more others tried to control him, the harder he fought. He was twenty-one when he’d had his first sexual encounter with Claire. He’d been with other girls but no one like her and he wasn’t ready for the way she affected him. Maybe if they’d gotten together later, after he’d learned to channel his excess energy into his work, they would’ve had a chance. Instead of acknowledging how much he cared, he’d denied his feelings for her, even to himself, did everything he could to prove that she was just a piece of ass.

So she’d given up on him and gone back to David, where she belonged. David knew how to treat her; he was the only person Isaac had ever secretly envied. David had graduated with honors and gone to college. He had more friends and family than he’d known what to do with. Isaac couldn’t name a single person who hadn’t liked the guy.

And yet there had to be one, didn’t there? If what Isaac had come to suspect after reading the files on Alana was correct, the hunting accident that had taken David’s life was no accident at all.

He glanced at the phone. He hadn’t told Claire what he believed, hadn’t even mentioned that he had her files. Seeing her like that had caused such a torrent of emotion, his thoughts had headed down a completely different path. And by the time he could think straight, he’d begun to question his own conclusions. He had nothing to back up his suspicions, except that David had been pursuing his own investigation into Alana’s disappearance, and just as he seemed to be making headway, he was killed.

Coincidence? Or murder?

Getting shot by another hunter was so rare....

His stitches pulled when he got to his feet. He needed another couple of aspirin.

He felt marginally better once he’d given himself a few minutes to acclimate to a vertical position. Then he made his way into the kitchen, where he skipped the aspirin in favor of finding the phone book.

Two other hunters had gone into the forest with David the day he was shot, both of them friends of his from high school. Rusty Clegg, a deputy sheriff, was one of them. Leland Faust, who owned a farm near Big Fork since he’d married Bella Wagoner, was the other. Isaac didn’t particularly care for Rusty. They’d had a couple of run-ins at the Kicking Horse Saloon. He got the impression that Rusty liked the power he wielded just a little too much, and that grated on Isaac. So he looked up Leland’s number instead.

Just as he expected, Leland was listed.

Grabbing his phone, Isaac slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

Leland’s wife answered. She told him her husband was already out on the farm but supplied his cell phone number.

Isaac had a cell phone, too. He used it when he traveled, but there wasn’t any service in Pineview so it was useless here. Only Kalispell, Big Fork and some of the larger cities had reception. Apparently, Leland lived close enough to Big Fork to be able to use his.

“’Lo?”

A gruff voice came through above the hum of a large motor—a tractor, maybe?

“Leland, it’s Isaac Morgan.”

The engine died. “Who?”

“Isaac Morgan.” Isaac had never called him before. They’d never had any trouble, but they weren’t exactly friends.

“That’s what I thought you said. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could answer a few questions.”

“About…”

“David O’Toole.”

This met with a protracted silence. “Why would you want to know anything about David?”

“Let’s call it general curiosity, for now.”

“I’m not sure that’s enough reason to get me to talk about him.”

Isaac understood. Those memories had to be difficult. “Then I’ll be more specific. I’m afraid the accident that took his life wasn’t an accident.” He waited for an exclamation of shock or surprise, but didn’t receive one. The pause felt charged with some strong emotion, but because Leland hadn’t spoken, Isaac couldn’t tell which emotion or why. “You still there?” he prompted.

“Yeah, I’m here. What makes you say that?”

This was the question Isaac had assumed would come immediately after his earlier statement. Why had it been delayed? What was going on in Leland’s head? Was he remembering? Wondering if what Isaac had just said could be true? Or was he thinking that he’d suspected the same thing?

“I’d rather not explain at the moment,” Isaac replied. “But…maybe you can convince me otherwise.”

“And if I can’t?”

Isaac felt his eyebrows shoot up. “What does that mean?”

“It means nothing. Never mind. I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, and the phone went dead.