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“You heard about the marriage?”
“Word gets around.”
“All the way to the Middle East?”
“Just the big stuff.”
“Alfred and I are divorced.”
That he hadn’t heard. “Is this where I’m supposed to say I’m sorry?”
“Are you?”
No and yes. It was easier to resent the both of them if they were living their idyllic life in the world of the rich and modestly famous. “Divorce is tough on kids,” he said, knowing it was the most honest statement he could offer.
“Alfred and I didn’t have children.”
So there was a new man in her life. And still Linney was here, in his condo, the spitting image of the woman who’d starred in thousands of his unsolicited erotic fantasies over the last six years. But only after he was sound asleep and too out of it to remember that she’d walked out on him without so much as an adios.
“Look, Cutter, I know it’s in bad taste to just let myself in, but I wasn’t sure when you’d be home and I didn’t want to keep Julie out in the hot sun.”
“How did you know I was staying here?”
“Your aunt Merlee called last week and told me. She thought I should give you a call and welcome you to Houston.”
“I didn’t know you and Aunt Merlee were such good friends.”
“We talk at the symphony during intermission, mostly about you. Our seats are only two rows apart.”
“Nor did I know you were a fan of the symphony.”
“There are lots of things you don’t know about me.”
“Apparently. Is this story going somewhere, Linney? Because I’ve had a really long day, and I’m not up for entertaining.”
“You don’t have to get in a huff, Cutter. Just tell me where you keep your extra sheets and blankets and I’ll make Julie a bed on the sofa.”
“Whoa! This is not a hotel.”
“I know, but I need a favor. One night.” She managed a strained smile. “And I cooked dinner. There’s pasta with red sauce. No meat. You didn’t have any—or much of anything else except beer and moldy cheese.”
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Just for one night, Cutter. I promise. We won’t put you out.”
“I only have one bed.”
“Julie can sleep on the sofa.”
Which would leave the one bed for him and Linney. It was hard enough controlling his libido standing in the same room with her. Fat chance he’d be able to do it with her stretched out next to him between the same pair of sheets.
“You can’t stay here.” His command came out a lot harsher than he’d intended. Julie started to cry.
“Now see what you’ve done.” Exasperation and a tinge of desperation tugged at her voice and expression.
Linney dropped to the sofa, took the small child in her arms and started rocking her back and forth. “Cutter didn’t mean to frighten you, sweetheart. He’s glad you’re here. He loves little girls. Tell her, Cutter.”
“I adore them. Linney, we have to talk.”
“Right, as soon as Julie’s asleep, but that will take a little longer now that you’ve upset her.”
Cutter still had no clue what was going on, but the chances that he was going to sleep alone in this apartment tonight were growing slimmer by the second. If the vibes of anxiety Linney was emitting weren’t at frightening levels, he’d insist she go to a hotel.
But there was more going on than Linney had admitted in front of the child, and there was no way he could just toss her out if she were in some kind of real trouble. His gut instinct was that she just might be.
“Put Julie in my bed,” Cutter said. “The sheets are fresh. The cleaning woman was here today. You can sleep with her and I’ll take the couch.”
“Thanks, Cutter. I knew I could count on you.”
Their gazes met and he had that same crazy sensation he used to get when he was parachuting into a hostile environment with no clear means of escape.
“Just for tonight, Linney. Don’t even think of unpacking a suitcase or finding a spot for your toothbrush.”
“No luggage,” she admitted. “No toothbrush, either. I was kind of hoping you’d have an extra for your sleepover guests.”
“I don’t have sleepover guests.” At least he hadn’t until now.
Cutter watched Linney walk toward the bedroom with the young child clutching her hand. He followed the pungent odors to the range and lifted the lid. A deep red sauce was simmering in the pot.
He dipped a spoon into it, blew on the hot liquid, then hesitantly sampled the sauce. Not half-bad. It surprised him that the wife of a man as wealthy as Al Kingston actually cooked.
And she’d become a mom. In none of his fantasies on the cold, hard, mountain earth had he ever pictured her standing over a kitchen range or tucking a golden-haired little girl into bed. Now here she was in the flesh and the surprises just kept on coming.
He was setting the table when Linney rejoined him. She went to the refrigerator, opened the door and took out a couple of beers. “Can I offer you a drink?” she asked.
“Only if it comes with an explanation as to why you’re entertaining me in my own kitchen. And don’t revert back to the friendship scenario. That won’t cut it.”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“I figure that’s a given.” He opened the beers and pushed hers across the table to where she’d dropped into one of the padded wrought iron-and-wood dining chairs.
She toyed with her beer, finally taking a tiny sip. “You’re the only one I have to turn to.”
“What about Julie’s father?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t want to be pulled into something between you and your husband.”
“There’s no husband, Cutter. There’s just me and Julie. That’s why I need your help.”
“Why me?”
“Everyone in Dobbin has been talking about you. You’ve won medals for your bravery. You’re used to danger and not afraid of anything.”
Except spending the night in this house with Linney. “Cut to the chase. What have you got yourself and your daughter into?”
“Well, you see, that’s just the thing, Cutter. Julie’s not my daughter. I’ve kind of…Well, it’s just that…” She threw up her hands in a display of frantic frustration. “I sort of kidnapped her.”
Chapter Two
“You sort of kidnapped her? What is that supposed to mean?”
Linney tried to stay calm. “I didn’t set out to do it. The woman at the day-care center called and said Julie was crying hysterically. I went to check on her.”
“Why did the center call you instead of her parents?”
“They tried to reach her father. He didn’t answer his cell phone. Amy—her mother—had put my name on the emergency caller list so the woman who manages the center called me.”
“If you’re on the list, then how is this kidnapping?”
“I said ‘sort of’ kidnapping. You have to pay attention, Cutter.”
“It would be easier if you didn’t talk in riddles. The father must have called you by now to see where his daughter is and when you plan to bring her home.”
“He hasn’t.”
“Then this is simple. Just take Julie home.”
“It’s not quite that simple.”
His eyebrows arched again. “Because…”
“Keep your voice down. You’ll wake Julie.”
“She’s already asleep? What did you do, drug her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s exhausted and she’s been through a terrible ordeal over the last few days.”
“A sort-of kidnapping will surely help that.”
“Sarcasm under fire is not the mark of a hero, Cutter Martin.”
“I never claimed to be a hero and we’re not under fire. Not yet, anyway.”
Linney flashed what she hoped was a persuasive look. “Would you just sit down and let me explain?”
“I like standing, and I don’t see how anything you will say can justify a kidnapping—or even a sort-of one.”
Linney studied Cutter. He looked different than he had the last time she’d seen him. Older, harder and, if possible, even more ruggedly handsome. Then, desire had fired in his dark eyes. Tonight his gaze seared into hers accusingly.
His five o’clock shadow was pronounced, his face a mix of taut planes and angles, his muscles strained and pushing against the white cotton dress shirt. The white dress shirt didn’t fit the image she’d carried of him for the last six years, not even with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows.
The rest of him fit the image perfectly. The lean, hard body. The tanned skin. The thick locks of dark hair falling across his forehead giving him a devil-may-care look and a sexiness that wouldn’t quit.
Linney took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then pushed her back against the slats of the chair. “Julie’s mother drowned last Friday. Amy Colley. You may have read about it in the newspaper. It happened in Green’s Harbor. That’s a small town on the bay about twenty miles south of Houston.”
“Yeah, I know where Green’s Harbor is. And I read about the accident. Her husband came home from work and found her floating in their backyard swimming pool.”
“That’s what he said. It’s not what happened.”
Cutter’s eyebrows arched. “Oh?”
“He killed her.”
“By he, I assume you are talking about the husband?”
“Yes, Dane Colley. Amy’s husband.”
“And also Julie’s father?”
She nodded.
“I suppose you have proof of your accusation.”
“I don’t have hard evidence, if that’s what you mean. But I know he did it.”
“So now you’re psychic?”
“This isn’t a joke, Cutter.”
“I’m not laughing.” His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “Didn’t I read that Dane Colley is a homicide detective?”
“Yes, and that’s the worst part of all this. He knows how to play the system and he’s got friends in all the right places. They’ll take him at his word and there won’t be a real investigation into the murder. He’ll just kill my friend Amy and get away with it—unless someone stops him.”
“Did you talk to the Green’s Harbor Police Department about your suspicions?”
“I tried. I gave the clerk a statement and he said I’d hear from one of the detectives. That was two days ago. I’ve called several times since then as well. No one’s called me back. I also called the news department of several of the local TV channels. They told me they’d need more than groundless suspicions to run a story.”
Cutter walked to the refrigerator and retrieved a couple more beers. He opened them both and set one in front of Linney. “Only two left,” he said. “I’m not sure that will get us through this explanation.”
“You asked for the facts.”
“I’m still waiting for the main one. Why is the daughter of the recently deceased mother and the homicide-detective father sleeping in my bedroom?”
Linney pushed back from the table. “Don’t you get it? I can’t get through to the police via normal channels, but if they suspect I’ve kidnapped Julie, they’ll have to contact me. And if the media gets involved, all the better.”
Cutter took a huge gulp of the cold beer before finally straddling one of the kitchen chairs. He stretched his left leg in front of him and massaged the thigh.
