“ELI WESTON THREATENED me last night,” Katrina announced from the doorway.
Debating the merit of sending Mavis a bouquet of flowers—old-fashioned, he knew, but he thought she’d appreciate them—Les smothered a sigh and looked up. “Oh?”
“I want to run the Micah Holland story,” she said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. A tremor of irritation surfaced. He hadn’t issued an invitation, but evidently she thought she didn’t need one. “I sent it to you last night. Did you read it?”
“No, I was busy.”
Her brows shot up. “Busy? Really?” Her lips twitched with condescension. “Playing Scrabble again, were you?”
Les couldn’t help the faint smile that pulled at his lips. “No.”
“Then what could have possibly been more important than reading my story?” she asked, feigning confusion. “Because I was under the impression—and thought you were, too,” she said, her voice hardening, “that what I want you to do supercedes anything that you want to do.”
Walking into that hotel room in Louisville and finding her there was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, Les thought, feeling his temper rise. Katrina was a cunning, ruthless bully with no discernible moral character. He loathed dangling over her barrel, but as of yet, he hadn’t figured out a way to maneuver himself off of it. Telling the world that she was a call girl wouldn’t ruin her reputation because she didn’t have one—or a good one, at any rate.
But telling the world that he paid for sex was another matter altogether.
He was a city councilman, and his reputation as an honorable businessman had been hard-won and had taken him years to establish. While other daily newspapers were going out of business all over the country, his still enjoyed a thriving print circulation. He’d limited online content, slashed advertising prices and, after much deliberation, added a gossip column.
He refused to run anything inflammatory—which was why Katrina had been determined to get her story the old-fashioned way—and vetted every article that went into each issue. Occasionally, he’d post blind riddles to the epublication, then bury the clues in the print edition, fostering cross-promotion between the two.
In short, he’d worked hard to build this life and having this opportunistic viper try to take it from him galled him to no end. He’d given her the job to keep her quiet and had secretly hoped that would be the end of it.
He should have known better.
“They’re dedicating the Memorial on Friday,” she said, smiling as if it were a foregone conclusion. “Let’s run it then, capitalize on all the hype.”
“I will not,” Les told her. “I would be hesitant to print it, even with authentication.”
Which he’d explained to her already. He wasn’t in the business of capitalizing on other people’s grief and didn’t intend to start now. Whether Micah had committed suicide, as Katrina suspected, or died from a misfired weapon, the fact remained that Carl and Sally had lost their son. Either that point was completely lost on Katrina, or she didn’t care. Intuition told him it was the latter.
Katrina’s nostrils flared and she planted her hands on either side of his desk. “You will,” she said. “Or you’ll regret it.” She smirked. “Or in your case, wegwet it.” Smiling triumphantly, she pushed away and coolly made her exit.
* * *
ELI KISSED SALLY ON THE cheek. “Thanks for dinner,” he told her. He feigned a wince. “I’m going to need to buy those jeans with the elastic in the waist if you don’t stop feeding me like this.”
Sally beamed at him. “You’re working hard. I’m just keeping you healthy.”
He wasn’t certain that fried chicken, black-eyed peas, mashed potatoes, green beans and banana pudding were exactly “healthy,” but they were damned good.
“You’ll be around for breakfast, right? I’m making a new casserole, with biscuits and sausage gravy.”
In other words, fat with a side of fat, Eli thought, his lips twitching. He’d be willing to bet the casserole was full of cheese, too. He nodded. “I’ll be here.”
“Why don’t you stop by and pick up Shelby? She’s always been a fan of my biscuits.”
If Shelby hadn’t asked him so innocently, he probably wouldn’t have thought much about her request, but it was almost...rehearsed? “I’ll give her a call and see if she’d like a ride,” he said, feeling an odd frown inch over his brow.
“Excellent!” she enthused.
A thought struck and he jerked a finger toward the stairs. “Mind if I pop upstairs and say hi to Colin before I go?” he asked.
Colin hadn’t made it to the square today, though he’d assured Eli that he’d be joining them again. He’d missed dinner, as well. While Eli knew that most teenagers were typically moody, Colin’s erratic behavior seemed almost schizophrenic. One minute, he’d be laughing and cutting up, making jokes with everyone. The next, scowling and sullen, pissed at the world.
Sally nodded, her eyes softening with gratitude. “Sure,” she said. “I heard him come in late last night, but he hasn’t been down for a meal and when GG asked him about going to the square, he’d said he didn’t feel like it.” She paused uncertainly. “I don’t want to make him go, but I wonder if we’re doing him any favors by giving him a pass.”
Eli wished he knew. Giving her another squeeze, he mounted the steps to the second floor. Micah’s room was straight ahead, the door closed, and the sight of it made Eli flinch, knowing that he’d never sleep there again.
Colin’s room was at the opposite end of the hall and his door was shut, as well. It was eerie.
Eli approached it and knocked softly. “Colin?” He could hear the faint sound of music—more Floggy Molly by the sound of it—but nothing else. He waited a minute, before trying again, a little louder in the event that Colin had his earbuds in. He’d just decided to try the door when it abruptly opened.
“What?” the boy demanded, glaring up at him.
Slightly taken aback—Colin had been reserved with him at times since Eli had arrived, but never openly rude—Eli stared down at him. “I just wanted to see why you didn’t come to the square today. You’d told me you’d be there,” he reminded him.
Colin lifted his chin. “I didn’t feel like it.”
Right, Eli thought, feeling his jaw tighten. Carl and Sally might be at a loss on how much rope to give him, but Eli wasn’t opposed to jerking a knot in his ass. Yes, he was a boy. Yes, he was hurting. Guess what? Life could be painful.
“Man lesson number one,” Eli told him. “Do what you say you’re going to do.”
Colin blinked, evidently surprised at Eli’s reaction, then his expression blackened with derision. “I didn’t ask you for man lessons. I’ve got a dad for that.”
“And you’re damned lucky that you do,” Eli said, unable to hide the edge in his voice. “So how about showing up tomorrow and helping him out? Or are you going to continue to let everyone else do it? Let everyone else build the memorial to your brother?” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s your call, chief, but you’re the one who’s going to have to live with it.” He nodded once. “Think about it.”
Colin’s eyes narrowed and his face screwed up in anger. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t have to—”
“Man up, Colin,” he said, shooting him a firm look. “It’s time.”
Because he was too old and too dignified to stand around and argue with a thirteen-year-old, he turned on his heel and descended the stairs.
His shoulders weighted with fatigue, his eyes lined with concern, Carl waited for him at the bottom. “Well?” he asked. “Any luck getting through to him?”
Eli merely shrugged, sighed. “I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”
“I wish I knew what to do,” Carl told him, casting a troubled look upstairs.
Eli swallowed, clapped him on the back. “You’re doing everything you can,” he said. “And Colin might not appreciate it now, but he will.”
That was the trouble with lucky people—they’d never seen the other side of the coin.
“Thanks, Eli,” Carl told him. “You’re a good man.”
Eli momentarily froze, shaken at the comment. No one had ever said that to him before, ever, least of all someone he admired and respected. Pride crowded into his chest, so foreign he almost didn’t recognize it. His ears buzzed and his throat went dry.
Carl Holland thought he was a good man...now. But would he hold that same opinion when he found out about his relationship with Shelby? Eli would like to think so, but ultimately, who knew?
That was a bridge he’d just have to cross when the time came, he thought. He just hoped like hell he wouldn’t have to burn it.
* * *
JAW SET SO HARD SHE WAS listening for the resulting crack, Shelby watched Eli’s expression go from confused concern to blistering anger in the space of about sixty seconds, which was exactly how long it took him to thumb through the letters. He glanced at up at her, obviously trying to rein in his temper before speaking.
“This is all of them?”
Seated at her kitchen table, Dixie at their feet, Shelby nodded. “This—” she pointed the newest one with the picture “—is the one that came today. Mavis found it on the floor. Someone had shoved it under the door.”
“And the rest arrived in the mail?”
“They did,” she confirmed. “Postmarked locally.” She leaned back and pushed her hair away from her face. “I’ll admit that they’ve been vague, but disturbing. But knowing that this person is actually watching me, saw us...” She shook her head. “It’s got me a little creeped out.”
So much so that instead of spending the night at the cabin again, she’d insisted they stay at her place. She’d ridden out and picked him up, and they’d left his truck in the driveway so that it would look as if he was there, alone. Meanwhile, she’d closed every blind in the house.
Explaining the letters to Mavis hadn’t been fun, but had been necessary, all things considered, and she’d sworn her friend to secrecy about them. She hated not telling Mavis the complete truth—she’d left out the circumstances of Micah’s death—but she just couldn’t do that. She and Eli were the only people who knew what really happened and it had to stay that way.
Thankfully, Mavis had been distracted when a gorgeous bouquet of white calla lilies arrived for her—from Les, of course—and had let the issue drop without further comment.
“Had the picture arrived on its own, I would have assumed that Katrina was behind this,” Eli said. He made a face. “I can certainly see her hiding in the bushes, spying on people.” He frowned, then shook his head. “But with the letter...I just don’t think so. I don’t think it’s her.”
Shelby didn’t, either. And honestly, she didn’t expect to hear anything else out of Katrina. Eli had thwarted her advances—which had to be infuriating for her, Shelby thought with vengeful glee—and had threatened to sue the paper if she intimated in any way that he hadn’t told the truth. And regardless of whatever Katrina had on Les Hastings, he was an honest man. He wouldn’t print anything that couldn’t be verified from multiple sources. She grimaced.
Unfortunately, by ruling out Katrina, that left the “suspects” column on their clue sheet empty. She’d received the occasional tut-tut aren’t-you-sorry-now? look from various people after Micah’s death, but no one had been unkind. And she sure as hell had never been called a whore.
Eli scanned the letters again, his forehead creasing into a puzzled scowl. “These just don’t make sense. This ‘I’m going to tell.’” He looked up at her, cocked his head. “Tell what to whom? It’s almost like a nah-nah nah-nah boo-boo sort of thing. Juvenile.” Something shifted in his expression and his gaze sharpened.
“What?”
Eli looked up at her, hesitated. “It’s probably nothing.”
“What’s nothing?” she asked grimly.
He looked at the picture again. “This looks like it was taken with a cell phone, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Shelby said. “But why is that important? Everyone carries a cell phone nowadays.”
“It might not be important at all,” he said vaguely. “I’m just thinking out loud.”
“You’re not thinking that clearly, or else I would know who you suspect,” she pointed out, annoyed at his reluctance.
His mouth twitched, evidently finding her irritation amusing, which naturally irritated her more. She pushed back from the table and headed for the door. “Fine,” she said. “Don’t tell me who you think called me a whore. I’ll just—” She yelped as he scooped her up from behind and threw her over his shoulder.
“You’ll just what?” he asked, a chuckle in his voice as he walked unerringly into her bedroom and dropped her onto the mattress. He followed her down, lifted her hands over her shoulders and pinned her down.
“This isn’t going to work,” she lied. “If you think that a blatantly masculine show of strength is going to make me forget that I’m mad at you and that...” His nose slid along the side of her jaw and he pressed against her suggestively, making her gasp.
“What was that?” he murmured, his voice low and husky.
A helpless laugh escaped her as need swept through her. She was melting beneath him, putty in his hands. “You don’t...play fair,” she said brokenly, her breath stuttering out of her lungs as he did it again, that hot, hard suggestive thrust of his hips against hers. She opened her legs and rose up to meet him, squeezing his fingers.
She felt him smile against her throat. “Haven’t you heard? I’m breaking all the rules now.”
She rocked her hips against him again. Two could play at this game, dammit. “Am I a rule?”
He chuckled again, then sighed into her ear, sending goose bumps racing along her overheated skin. “A rule? No. You’re the exception to every rule.”
She smiled against him and pressed her lips to the side of his head, desperate to feel more of him. “Hmm. I sound powerful.”
“Are you going to abuse it? Or will you trust me? Let me handle this letter business?”
Ah... “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” she accused, her eyes widening in mild outrage. “You knew that if you got me into bed and blew in my ear you’d be able to get exactly what you wanted.”
He drew back and looked at her, his golden eyes twinkling with humor, yet hot with need, and he grinned, completely unrepented. “A man has to play to his strengths,” he said. “Can I help it if you can’t keep your hands off of me?”
She laughed and squeezed his fingers significantly. “Who has a hold of whom?”
“Semantics.” He bent forward and kissed her, his skillful lips sliding expertly over her own. Heat boiled up beneath her skin and she groaned. “You know you want me.”
God help her, she did, Shelby thought.
“You never answered my question,” he said, letting go of one of her hands so that he could unbutton her shirt. He popped the front closure of her bra, baring her breasts to his heated gaze, then rolled her nipple between his thumb and his forefinger, bringing it to a fuller peak, before pulling the aching bud into his mouth and suckling hard.
Her eyes all but rolled back in her head and her back arched off the mattress. They were wearing too many clothes, Shelby thought. “You asked a question?”
He shaped his hand around her breast, massaged it, then licked at her again. “I did. I think you should say yes.”
He scooted down the length of her, flipped her skirt up over her thighs, tore her panties off then hooked her legs over his shoulders and set his wicked mouth against her sex.
Her eyes widened as shock and sensation tore through her and she fisted her newly freed hands into the coverlet. Her neck bowed off the bed and it was all she could do to keep her hips still, to keep from grinding against his talented tongue. He lapped and licked and suckled, drawing hard on the delicate hood of her clit while simultaneously tugging at her nipple.
She came, hard. “Yessssssss!”
Eli quickly shrugged out of his shirt and shucked his jeans and underwear, then dragged her by her feet to the edge of the bed and plunged into her, sending another wave of unbearable pleasure cascading through her.
Masculine pleasure clung to his smile as his hands found her hips and he rocketed into her once more. “See? That wasn’t so hard now was it?”
She grinned and tightened around him. “Oh, I don’t know. It feels pretty damned hard from my position.”
He chuckled low, his gaze rife with humor and something else, something that made her heart skip a beat. “You’re something else, you know that?”
She nodded once. “Damn straight. I’m the exception to every rule.”
And he’d become a rule breaker. Clearly they were meant for each other...and she desperately hoped he reached the same conclusion.