Texas Secrets, Lovers' Lies Page 13

  Damn it, he shouldn’t have felt so disappointed. “You don’t believe me,” he said.

  “I don’t know what to think. Cristine sounded absolutely certain about this video. She even offered to show it to me.”

  “Perfect.” Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he held it out to her. “Call her. Tell her to bring it over here. I want to see it. We’ll put an end to this once and for all.”

  “Cristine’s probably still at Papa’s Pasta.” Slowly she dialed the number. Cristine answered on the third ring.

  “The video? I just deleted it,” she said, in response to Zoe’s request. “I was going to take it to the police, but I thought about what you said. It was private. Shayna wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see it, right?”

  Defeated, Zoe agreed. Telling Cristine she had to go, she hung up. “She says she deleted it,” she said.

  “Of course she did. And I’ll bet she would have accidently deleted it or something if you’d asked her to see it earlier.”

  Zoe cursed. “This is getting ridiculous. I mean, it’s become clear that Shayna had issues with being truthful. Apparently Cristine does, too.”

  He despised the gratitude that flooded him. To cover, he moved restlessly. “Thanks for that, at least.”

  “For what?” Looking confused, she met his gaze.

  “For accepting me at my word and not assuming I’m the one that’s the liar.”

  “I know you, Brock,” she said quietly. “Whatever else I don’t know, at least there’s that.”

  He lowered his chin, waiting for the sudden lump in his throat to disappear. “Yeah, well. Just this morning Cristine accused me of hitting Shayna.”

  “I heard about that.” Zoe looked down, making him realize she was twisting her hands as if she was nervous. “Look, I know you don’t like me, and I can’t say I blame you, but I need your help. It seems there’s a lot of deception going on around here, and I don’t understand why.”

  “You mean Cristine.”

  “Not only her. Roger and Mike. Especially Mike. And Shayna, too. I told you what she’d said about the two of you getting married. Brock, she carried on about that for months! In elaborate detail. I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that she was telling me the truth.”

  He dragged his hand through his hair. For once, Zoe sounded vulnerable. Which made him ache to pull her into his arms and comfort her, which was the opposite of what he wanted. It was too raw, too personal, too dangerous with the potential to get hurt again. He almost wished she’d get back to her high-handed, superior New Yorker attitude. He’d always been a sucker for being needed.

  “I’m all alone here,” she said, her voice doing that peculiar little hitch it always did when she was trying not to cry.

  Damn. His stomach did a corresponding lurch.

  “You’re not alone,” he heard himself say. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  “Really?” She raised eyes the color of melting caramel to him. “Even if it means you’ll have to put up with my company a bit longer?”

  “Yes.” A dawning sense of rightness made him feel slightly better. “It’s time we straightened this out and found out the truth once and for all.”

  She gave a short, bitter laugh. “The truth seems mighty hard to come by around here these days. Even Mama Bell is in denial.”

  “What do you mean?” That had to hurt, coming from her. He knew how much Mama Bell meant to her. Had, he reminded himself. He didn’t know what Zoe Onella considered precious these days.

  Obviously, her loyalty to Shayna ranked up there. Grudgingly, he had to admit he admired her for that. At least she was loyal about something.

  “From everything I’ve been hearing, Shayna was out of control,” Zoe continued. “But Mama Bell didn’t act, even after noticing something wasn’t right. She commented that Shayna had started avoiding her, but that was about it.”

  “Blinded by love,” he said gently. “Kind of like when you disappeared.”

  He knew he’d said the wrong thing. Her expression shut down, became guarded.

  “You always have to come right back to that, don’t you? It’s not the same,” she said.

  He didn’t contradict her, even though she had to know, in a way, it was.

  “Since we’re being so blindingly honest, I should tell you that Mrs. Bell was at the feed store today also,” he said.

  Her brows rose. “First Cristine, and then Mama Bell?”

  “What can I say?” He spoke casually, hoping to mask the fact that he had to fight not to kiss her. “I’m a popular guy.”

  “I guess you are.” That faraway look clouded her eyes, letting him know she was lost in thought. He gave her a minute.

  “What did Mama Bell want?”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. She wants us to put our differences aside and work together to find Shayna.”

  Though she nodded thoughtfully, she didn’t comment.

  “Zoe, sit down.” He indicated the chair across from his desk. Grabbing a yellow legal pad and a pen, he began to make notes. “Let’s write down what we have so far, okay?”

  Clearly relieved, she blinked and pulled the chair closer to the desk to sit.

  “I think we should focus on the last two people to see Shayna.”

  “That Mike guy from the bar?” She frowned.

  “And...”

  “Cristine,” she said softly. “Do you think she knows something she’s not telling us?”

  “It’s possible.” He grimaced. “Five years ago, Shayna pretended not to know anything when you disappeared. No matter how many times I asked her, the answer was always the same.”

  It always came back to that, somehow. Her leaving without a word of goodbye.

  But this time, Zoe refused to comment on the past. “Shayna did that because I asked her to,” she said. “It was important, for reasons you didn’t understand at the time.”

  He wanted to tell her he still didn’t understand. They’d been inseparable back then. He’d believed they were a team. For her to think he couldn’t protect her when she’d been the only thing that had made his life worth living...

  Swallowing, he forced himself to focus only on the present.

  “My point is, when you ran off, Shayna was the only one who knew why. It’s entirely possible we have the same situation, only this time Shayna asked Cristine to keep quiet.”

  Zoe sat up straight. “If so, she needs to quit playing games.” Her expression was animated, reminding him so much of the woman who’d once agreed to become his wife. It took every bit of willpower he possessed not to go to her and claim her. Life was too damn short to let what he wanted, needed and craved slip through his fingers a second time.

  He felt a rush of heat and, moving without conscious thought, crossed to her, pulling her into a rough embrace. He held her, only that, but it was enough. It was everything.

  She’d always been able to rock his world, without even trying.

  Pulling back so he could look at her, he gazed down at her upturned face and caramel eyes. Zoe’s wide-eyed stare and dilated pupils told him she battled the same demons as he.

  “Brock...” She opened her mouth, as if to protest.

  “What the hell,” he muttered, before claiming her lips in a hard kiss. A river of heat blazed between them, a tidal wave of fever. Searing him. Them.

  “This,” he growled against her mouth, “We always got this right at least.”

  Clutching him to her, she made a sound, a wordless protest, perhaps, or urging him on.

  To what? The realization was like a dash of ice water. He could fantasize, he could crave her, but if they connected intimately on any level, one of them was bound to get hurt.

  Most likely him.

  Yet his body
, so aroused he hurt, urged him otherwise.

  Then, as he struggled with his conscience and his desire, she raised her face to his and murmured his name. The single syllable was pure invitation.

  And just like that, he was lost.

  He wanted to be gentle, he wanted to go slow. But as they shed their clothes, both breathing hard, he wondered if he could. And when they rushed together, skin to slick skin, he abandoned all attempts to rein himself in.

  There was nothing tentative in this, the first intimate touch in far too many years.

  Tongue to tongue, fingers to skin, sinew and muscle and bone, he wanted it all, everything, all of her. Equally hungry, she explored him and claimed him, her touch inflaming him. He couldn’t catch his breath, inhaling her scent, though he desperately wanted to slow things down and make this last.

  “Now,” she said, pulling him with her down onto the couch. She writhed beneath him, urging him with her body. “I want you inside me now.”

  Passion had turned his blood to fire and for a moment, he couldn’t think. He throbbed with need, the size of his arousal a hard testament.

  As she closed her hand over him, she moaned, the erotic sound stripping him of the last shredded vestiges of his control.

  Need filling him, desire pure and explosive, he let go of the last remnants of his shredded self-control. Finally. Pinning her beneath him, he nudged apart her thighs and pushed himself into her. Again she cried out, even as her wet warmth welcomed him.

  He began to move, trying to go slow and knowing with each thrust that he was fighting a losing battle. She gasped and her body clenched around him. Shivers of heat radiated from her as she gave herself over to her release.

  Damn. Clenching his teeth, he held himself perfectly still as he rode the wave of passion. His only movements were the rise and fall of his chest with his harsh breathing, and involuntary tremors, the kind that would be his undoing if he let them.

  And then...she kissed him. Claimed him, mouth to mouth, tongue dancing with his, teasing him as though he wasn’t already buried deep inside her. Along with the tingling sense of knowing he was now complete, a wave of heat hit him so strongly he was helpless to do anything except move again.

  Heat. Raw and primal. As the ache inside him intensified, his thoughts shattered and he gave himself over to the hot tide.

  She rode along with him, her movements consuming and fueling him. He felt her give in to the burning sweetness of release one more time, and he rode to the peak along with her. And then, drowning in sensation, he let himself join her.

  After, as they lay quietly, arms and legs and bodies still entwined, he still longed for something he knew he could never possess. Her. The heights they’d reached made him want to weep, because he’d tried so hard to forget. This was how lovemaking was supposed to be. He hadn’t experienced such depths since Zoe had left him. And he knew once she left again, he never would.

  Only with Zoe.

  Even as he struggled to articulate his thoughts, she stirred and stretched. Her gaze touched on his, unsettled. “I’d better be going,” she said, her tone light.

  Climbing out of his embrace, she picked up her discarded clothing from the floor and disappeared into the bathroom. As he watched her go, he realized yet again, he’d been a complete fool.

  When she returned, fully dressed, he was waiting for her, also having put his clothing back on.

  “We can’t do this again,” Brock said, his voice blessedly emotionless.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself, because I know differently.” Eyebrows raised, her attempt to sound flippant vanished when she caught a glimpse of his expression.

  He could only imagine what that looked like. Tortured? Anguished? Or just plain pissed off?

  “Brock, I...”

  “Don’t.” He closed his eyes, the craving for her ten times worse than any he’d ever felt for alcohol. Even now. Still. Always.

  “No, I completely understand.” Now her normally vibrant tone sounded as colorless as his. “How about we focus on finding Shayna, without all this personal stuff?”

  Hearing her reduce his feelings to the generic personal stuff seriously pissed him off. But hearing her say it only reinforced his desire to put these feelings, this stuff behind him. Maybe now, he could finally get on with his life.

  “Agreed,” he told her, and walked her to the door.

  Almost there, she stopped and put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she began.

  “Don’t. When you go home tonight, why don’t you write down any ideas you have toward locating Shayna and I’ll do the same. We’ll get together tomorrow and see what we’ve come up with.”

  * * *

  Driving home, her body pleasantly sore, Zoe refused to think too much about what had just occurred. Mama Bell was right. Zoe and Brock needed to focus and work together to find Shayna.

  Sniffling, she wondered why her chest felt so tight. She had to work harder to convince herself. Just because their bodies had joined together as though they’d been ripped apart since birth shouldn’t make her want more. Right?

  What was wrong with her? Why did she have the compulsion to turn fantastic sex into something else? She knew better than anyone that there could never be anything between her and Brock. No matter how much she might want him in her life, he deserved so much more than she could offer.

  Amazing. She’d known her fate for years, but the knowledge still hurt like hell.

  Tears streamed down her face. At least she hadn’t started crying around Brock. Best that he think her a cold, unfeeling bitch. No emotions involved, no sir.

  Though she’d had to get out of there before she said the wrong thing, she felt reasonably confident that she’d convinced him that they’d used each other to release some tension, with a touch of nostalgia thrown in for old times’ sake. Nothing more, nothing less. When in fact, nothing could be further from the truth.

  She loved him. She always had and always would.

  After all this time, Brock was long past being hurt by anything that happened between them. As was she.

  Then why did her throat feel so tight and why did her eyes sting as the tears continued to flow? She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She’d already pieced together her broken heart once. She couldn’t risk tearing it apart again. That was just too much pain to survive.

  She had to be careful, remember the reason she couldn’t stay. Brock deserved everything he’d always wanted, especially children. He should have a woman who could give them to him.

  So no matter what, she had to make sure Brock believed she didn’t care. One thing she’d learned from Shayna’s disappearance was how easily a house made of cards could blow apart.

  As she turned the corner onto the Bells’ street, she realized Mr. Bell’s truck was parked in the driveway. Her heart skipped a beat. She felt an odd flash of guilt as she pulled up and parked. She’d been in town nearly a week and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man she considered an adoptive father of sorts. Every time she’d asked Mama Bell about him, she’d said he was working. Apparently after that, he was sleeping somewhere else.

  Not wanting to be intrusive, she hadn’t pressed Mama Bell for details, aware the older woman would open up about potential marital problems when she was ready.

  Still, Zoe had missed Mr. Bell. He was a bighearted man who’d taken in a scared and forgotten little girl and acted like a father to her. Now he’d finally come home from wherever he’d been.

  Jumping out of the car, she hurried toward the open garage and went in through the door, which would put her directly at the kitchen.

  She spotted him immediately, his hair still thick and dark, cut in the same military haircut he’d favored forever. He stood facing the table, with his back to her.

  “It’s
about time you put in an appearance,” she said, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug.

  Using only one arm, he hugged her back, but the motion seemed automatic rather than heartfelt. About to try to search his face for a hint of what might be going on, she happened to glance at Mama Bell first.

  The older woman was seated at the kitchen table, hands over her face, crying so hard her shoulders were shaking.

  Looking from one to the other, Zoe realized she’d walked right into the middle of something personal.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, aching to go to Mama Bell and comfort her. “I’ll just go into town. I’ll be back later.”

  “No.” The fierceness in Mama Bell’s voice contrasted with the despair in her tear-ravaged face. “Stay. Mr. Bell has something to say to you.”

  Mr. Bell shook his head. Pain, horror and guilt shone in his eyes. “Eunice, please...”

  “She has a right to know,” Mama Bell hissed. “Tell her, you—” Biting back whatever word she’d been about to say, she pushed to her feet and hurried from the kitchen to the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind her.

  More than anything, Zoe wished she hadn’t come home at that precise moment. Mr. Bell wouldn’t look at her, and she couldn’t exactly blame him.

  “I’ll go,” she said again. “The last thing I want to do is get in the middle of a fight between the two of you.”

  She’d turned to do exactly that when Mr. Bell reached out and stopped her. “No,” he said, his voice as heavy as his expression. “You should probably know this, since it might have some bearing on where Shayna is.”

  Turning slowly, she tried to ignore the dread coiling in her chest. “All right.”

  His face still wore the grim look of a man about to bare the darkest part of his soul. Suddenly, acutely, Zoe wished for Brock. How she would have welcomed his steady strength right now.

  “You’d better take a seat.” Mr. Bell indicated the closest chair.

  Zoe didn’t move. “No thanks, I’ll stand.”

  “I think—” Instead of protesting, he sighed. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

  He walked to the sink and stood with his back to her, pretending an avid interest in something in the yard. Whatever he had to say must be bad. Eyeing him, she fought the urge to flee.