Thanks for a good time, but it’s time for me to move on.
Her greatest fear was that if she let herself grow close to Travis, he’d say those same words. That he’d use her body and crush her heart, and that this time, no amount of therapy would be able to put together the broken pieces he’d leave in his wake.
“Travis and I are just trying to piece together an old puzzle,” she said, leaning back in her chair and meeting her assistant’s curious gaze.
“And?”
“And that’s it.” When Suzanna’s eyes flashed skeptically, she bit her lower lip, deciding to voice at least a few of her thoughts. “There’s just something about him, his perspective on everything. He reminds me that other people have had problems in their lives. He’s told me things about people I didn’t know, he’s told me about some of the cases he’s worked on.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Somehow, when I’m around him, I don’t feel alone. I feel like I’m normal, like everyone else.”
“Maybe that’s because you finally are becoming normal.”
“No, it’s not like that.” She tapped her pencil on the table, trying to find the right words. “There was this guy from school. I always hated him. He was the worst of the worst. Made me and Carrie feel like trash.”
She tossed the pencil in the tray. “Travis told me some things about the guy’s childhood. It sounded just as shitty as mine. There was something about it that made me realize all this guy’s taunting was more about him than it was about me.”
She shook her head and sighed. “It sounds really horrible, but hearing about other people’s problems actually makes me feel better about myself. I don’t feel so cheated, you know?”
Just talking about it felt like a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Though the past few days had been difficult at times, as she reflected over it all, she realized that somehow Travis had managed to release some of the chains she’d been lugging around for years. Link by link, he kept managing to snap them off.
“Remember I told you he lost his wife?” At Suzanna’s nod, she continued. “There is something about his loss that I really relate to because of Carrie.”
“So you relate to him, that’s it?”
“What do you mean, that’s it? You know how difficult it is for me to even consider spending time with a man.” She swallowed. Hard. “I actually asked him to come up to my apartment last night.” Before Suzanna could voice the excitement on her face, she added, “He turned me down.”
Suzanna’s elation drained at the statement. Rachel could see she was calculating the good friend pep talk she thought she was going to need.
Rachel chuckled. “You know why?”
Suzanna shook her head.
“He said he wants more than my body. He understands my fears and wants to prove himself to me before we do anything physical.” She couldn’t believe she’d actually spoken so freely about something so personal, but at the moment, she just didn’t care.
“Doesn’t that tell you something?” Suzanna pointed out.
“That he’s not as sleazy as most men?”
“That you can trust him.”
Rachel hesitated for a moment. Trust. God, how she hated that word. For so long she’d been plagued with insecurities, which had made it difficult to trust even herself. Putting her faith in others had been harder.
Did she trust Travis? Yes. No. She hadn’t really thought about it. She knew she liked him. Respected him. She trusted him to help her find out why her sister had taken her own life. She trusted him to protect her. But would she ever really be able to trust him with her heart?
As if sensing the unspoken, conflicting questions swirling in the air, Suzanna tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder and grinned. “All right, it’s gotten far too serious in here.” She leaned over Rachel’s shoulder and began rifling through the sketches.
“Hey!” Rachel interjected. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve decided you need some new lingerie.” She held up the raciest of Rachel’s daring attempts at seductive attire. “Let’s make you this one.”
“Huh? Why?”
Suzanna smiled mischievously. “Just in case.”
Rachel drew her hands to her mouth. “Oh, I could never. I was just playing around. I mean, Misty, maybe, but not me.”
Her assistant just ignored her and began rummaging through the fabric samples sitting on a nearby table. She pulled out an emerald green. “This matches your eyes.”
“Stop playing around, Suzanna.”
“Who’s playing around?” She moved to the pile of lace. “This light cream. This is the one you need,” she said, holding up a sample.
“I’m not designing lingerie for myself, Suz.”
“Oh, yes. You are. How much time do we have?”
Rachel blew out a frustrated breath, not wanting to admit the thought of wearing those sensual fabrics excited her. Just a little. “It could be weeks,” she replied, trying to sound annoyed. “He said he’d call today, but it could take days for him to get a lead from the hospital. I don’t now when we’ll actually see each other again.”
“Or it might take hours. We’ll need to work fast.” Suzanna moved to the phone and punched in a number.
“What are you doing now?”
“Calling the supplier. We’ll need this green by tomorrow afternoon.”
Chapter Seven
It was three days before Travis finally called Rachel, and those were the longest three days of his life. It had taken all of his willpower not to call her the second he’d gotten home after the night at the bar, but he’d managed to restrain himself from grabbing for the phone. He felt like he’d finally found a chink in her defensive armor and he hadn’t wanted to risk her patching it up, which was a good possibility, considering her tendency to close up when she felt pressured.
Damn, but the woman was wound so tight he was surprised she hadn’t snapped yet. Seeing just how the past affected her, how it had the ability to shatter her confidence in nanoseconds, made him grateful for his bland upbringing. His parents were caring, generous people, and hell, a little boring. Before his death, Gregory Gage spent his days tinkering on his computer and his evenings with his wife, doing puzzles and playing Trivial Pursuit. The wildest thing they’d ever done was go on a Caribbean cruise, which they’d had to cut short because his mother got seasick. A real Bonnie and Clyde, those two.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine being raised by a woman like Hattie Foster. She had the maternal instincts of a napkin, and a part of him—though he’d never reveal it to Rachel—almost understood why Carrie felt like she’d had no choice but to take her own life.
“Jenny told me to drop this off. She just went on her lunch break.”
Travis glanced up absently as his partner tossed a thin file folder on the desk. “Thanks,” he said.
“Mind telling me why you requested a staff list from Chicago General?” Matt asked, slinging his hands in his pockets. “A list that’s more than a decade old, no less.”
Travis sighed, knowing it was time to fill Matt in on his side investigation. He’d been neglecting their ongoing cases this past week and a half, and his partner deserved an explanation.
Quickly, he explained the situation. When he finished, he didn’t like the frown he saw on his partner’s face.
“I don’t like this,” Matt said in a wary voice.
“Why? I’m just helping out a friend.”
“A friend? No, you’re on another one of your crusades, man.”
Travis returned his friend’s frown. “It’s not like that.”
“Really? From what you just told me, it sounds like this woman isn’t in the greatest state of mind. She’s scarred, and you want to heal her.” Matt let out a deep breath. “You can’t keep doing this, Travis.”
“It’s not like that,” Travis repeated, his voice firm.
“Really? Last month you decided Ginny Roberts needed to be saved,” Matt reminded him, na
ming a young female deputy who’d only been on the force for a year or so. “You found out about her abusive boyfriend and decided it was your place to remove her from that situation.”
“The guy would’ve killed her if I hadn’t stepped in.”
“What about that teenage prostitute you took in last year? You moved her into your goddamn house, man, until you could track down her family.” Cutting him off before he could explain, Matt just sighed. “You can try to save a million women, but none of them will bring back Jess.”
A muscle flinched in Travis’s jaw. “This isn’t about Jess.”
Matt looked unconvinced. “Whatever you say, buddy. Just be careful, okay?”
Travis waited until Matt left his office before slamming both fists down on the desktop. This wasn’t about Jess, dammit. He’d come to terms with his wife’s death. He’d even taken that pointless leave of absence the chief had prescribed. For three months, he’d lounged on a beach in Belize, bored stiff and eager to return to Chicago. He was a new man when he returned, his grief replaced with the need to work.
This wasn’t about Jess. It was about Rachel.
The memory of their explosive kisses filled his head. Maybe a part of him did want to save Rachel, but that wasn’t the only reason he was doing this. He wanted her. From the second he’d laid eyes on her in that department store, he’d wanted her, and the extent of his need disturbed him more than he would like to admit.
He hadn’t been this drawn to a woman since Jessica. Before Rachel, it had been about sex. Satisfying his needs with brief affairs and the occasional one-night stand. Yet he knew that if he took Rachel to bed, he’d gain no satisfaction unless he managed to keep her there. The question was—for how long? What exactly did he want from her?
More than a roll in the hay, he’d told her, and he’d meant it. Rachel still bore scars from the past and he got the feeling she’d never been seriously involved with a man. Hell, she could be a virgin for all he knew. Yet that didn’t deter him either. He wanted…something from Rachel. He just wished he knew what that something was.
Focus.
Right, he needed to focus. So what if he could still taste her lips on his mouth? So what if his cock grew hot and hard at the thought of what would have happened if he’d taken her up on her offer to come inside? Right now, they still had to understand why Carrie had done what she had.
He reached for the file folder and spent the next ten minutes going over its contents. After he’d found what he was looking for, he reached for the phone and dialed Rachel’s number.
“So, you see, I’ve highlighted all the names with the initials BF,” Travis explained as he and Rachel bent over the list of hospital staff.
It was difficult to concentrate when Travis was sitting so close to her. When his spicy aftershave made her so dizzy she saw only jumbled letters on the pages in front of her.
I should have gone to his office, Rachel thought ruefully.
When Travis had called earlier in the afternoon, he’d suggested she drop by the station, but instead she’d asked him to come over to her apartment later. She hadn’t wanted to see Travis while surrounded by police officers, especially since her thoughts were so naughty they bordered on criminal, and probably warranted her arrest.
God, why did she feel such need for this man? Two weeks ago, she’d been happy with her life. She hadn’t needed a man. She hadn’t wanted a man. She’d been content to work on her designs during the days and watch sitcoms in the evenings, and not once had her body shown any signs of wanting to betray the celibate existence she’d banished it to.
And then came Travis, and suddenly her neglected body was running the show.
“I’ve crossed out all the females on the list,” Travis continued. “But that’s because we’re working under the assumption that BF is male.”
“Right.” She tried to follow his words, but it was hard to when he looked so darn edible. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were unbuttoned, tempting her to pop open a few more buttons so she could get a good look at his chest.
“Then I crossed out all non-medical personnel, as well as all doctors who don’t perform surgery.”
“And?” She snapped out of her sensual thoughts as she heard the triumphant tone to his voice. He’d found something, she was sure of it.
“And that leaves us with only two possible BFs,” he finished, a satisfied grin widening his mouth. “Brad Frederick and Barry Forrester. Both surgeons. Both worked there at the time Carrie volunteered.”
Although it was dark outside, Rachel could swear she saw a ray of sunshine seep through the closed window blinds. She suddenly felt exhilarated, as she realized just how close they were to solving this mystery. Because it really had become a mystery. All these years, she’d blamed Travis for Carrie’s demise, felt as if she’d known why her sister had decided suicide was her only option. And then Travis showed up and blew her sense of closure to smithereens. Now, she had a chance to regain that closure.
A tidal wave of happiness and relief crashed over, prompting her to throw her arms around Travis. “Thank you,” she murmured, burying her face against his chest.
His hand reached up her spine to the nape of her neck, and all the soft hairs there tingled. “You’re welcome.”
The embrace should have ended there, a quick, friendly hug to show her appreciation for all he’d done for her, but she couldn’t for the life of her tell her body to move. She held on to Travis like a life preserver, and in a sense, that’s exactly what he was. She felt secure in his arms, protected, and she didn’t want to let go of those feelings.
A low hum began pulsing through the air. Her apartment grew hot, the air grew thick with tension, and when she lifted her head and met Travis’s gaze, she swallowed.
He wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, could feel it with every beat of his heart against her breasts. And, God help her, but she wanted him too. This was ridiculous. He’d dated her sister, for Pete’s sake. Sure, only for a few months, but the fact that he’d been with Carrie should have made this entire situation feel incestuous.
So why didn’t it?
She took a breath and waited for the warning bells to go off in her head. He’s using you. He only wants one thing. He’ll hurt you.
None of the warnings came. Instead, her mind was as clear and silent as the night sky outside.
“Rachel, tell me to leave.”
His voice was hoarse, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. The hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her belly and she fought the urge to reach down and touch him.
The tension in the air crackled as he repeated his words. “Tell me to leave,” he said with a groan. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”
Regret. God, how many regrets did she have in her life? Too many.
Being with Travis was one thing she didn’t ever want to regret.
“Stay.”
It was merely a whisper, but that one word hung and echoed in the air like Sunday church bells. She’d done it. She’d released the final link of the chain around her heart with that one word.
She was letting him in.
“Are you sure?” His dark eyes pierced her face, and a range of emotion danced in them. Need. Hunger. Hesitance.
“I’m sure.”
With a strangled groan, he grabbed her face with both hands and angled his mouth over hers. She should have been frightened by the overwhelming greediness of his kiss, but she wasn’t. Instead, she parted her lips and allowed his tongue entrance into her mouth. A whimper escaped her throat as his tongue swirled over hers, as it explored and devoured. Her entire body grew weak, limp, as she held on to him for dear life.
“A bed. We need a bed.” His voice was gruff as he shot from the couch and scooped her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather.
And then, as though he’d navigated her apartment a thousand times before, he carried her down the darkened hallway into her bedroom.
&n
bsp; “Wow.”
Travis paused in the doorway and took in the sight of the dimly lit room. Her bedroom was a little too much, she knew that. Red velvet curtains, a big cedar bed with a heavy satin and lace bedspread. Silk sheets. It looked like it had come straight off the set of an adult film, but extravagant as it was, she’d always felt happiest when surrounded by sensual fabrics.
“Too much lace and satin?” she quipped, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Travis walked over to the bed and gently placed her on top of it. “Nope. You can never have enough lace and satin,” he murmured, his eyes glittering as he stood over her.
She managed a small grin. “Good, because there’s a lot more under my clothes.”
She couldn’t believe she’d said that. When she’d slipped into the flimsy bra and panties Suzanna had forced her to design, she’d never expected Travis would actually see them. She’d known he was coming over, had even suspected a kiss or two, but she hadn’t planned on going to bed with him.
But things never worked out according to plan, did they? Because as she lay back on her soft bed, the only thing she planned was having Travis naked and inside her.
“Clothes are really overrated, aren’t they?” he said glibly, sitting at the edge of the bed.
Rachel stared up at his eyes and nearly moaned at the blatant hunger she saw in them.
He leaned down and ran his hand over the line of buttons down her shirt. Her breath hitched as his finger clasped over the top button, popping it open. With steady hands, he slowly went down the line until her shirt fell open.
When she saw his eyes narrow at the emerald-green, barely there bra she wore, pleasure sizzled through her. God, how many times had she told herself she didn’t want a man admiring her body? How many times had she told herself sex was nothing but a cheap and tawdry act? Plenty of times, that’s how many.
So why did her heart flutter at the thought of being appealing to Travis?
“You’re beautiful,” he muttered.
She felt so vulnerable as she lay there, as he ran his thumb over the swell of each breast. Yet she didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she arched her back so that her breasts pressed against his hand.