Melting Point Read online

  “I know,” she said briskly, impersonally. As if they hadn’t nearly devoured each other in his truck the other night.

  He wanted to touch her, wanted her hands on him. It surprised him how much he wanted that. Maybe it was the whack he’d taken to the head. Maybe it was his ego, but he was suddenly determined to get a response from her. At the very least, an admission that they had kissed the other night.

  Favoring his right leg, he made his way carefully down the hall to his bedroom, figuring she’d try to find him. He crossed the nubby carpet, went past his dark wood bed and into the master bath. Once there, he tugged his sweater and T-shirt over his head, clenching his teeth against the pain.

  “McClain, where are you?”

  “Back here.” He turned so he could see his shoulder in the mirror that took up most of the wall. His flesh was scraped and bloody, a bruise already forming.

  “Ouch, that looks like it hurts.”

  He looked around to find her in the door, holding a glass of water. He opened the cabinet to his right and pulled out a bottle of acetaminophen, easing down onto the edge of the sink.

  He tossed back six of the regular strength painkillers, feeling her gaze on his bare chest as he drank the water. When he lowered the empty glass, she looked away. Which only firmed his resolve.

  She backed up a step. “Let me know how you’re doing in the morning. I’ll call and cancel our reservations to St. Louis.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re hurt. We can—”

  “We should go on. We’re at a dead end with this case. We have to do something, find something. Embry’s folks might be the ones who give us a lead.”

  She paused a second. “All right. While we’re gone, I’ll send an officer over to Franklin’s aunt’s house as well as his parole officer to see if he’s there or if either of them have heard from the scuzzball.”

  “That’s good.”

  “See you bright and early, then.”

  Oh, no. She wasn’t going anywhere yet. “I hate to ask, Russell, but could you put some medicine on my shoulder? I don’t think I can reach it too well.”

  She hesitated less than a second, agreeing in that same polite, remote tone she’d been using since last evening in his office. It bugged the hell out of him.

  He reached into the drawer at his left hip and pulled out a tube of antibiotic cream.

  She hesitated then moved up beside him and took the medicine, squeezing a generous amount onto a cotton swab. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

  He nodded. She leaned over and gently dabbed ointment on the wound.

  Her warm breath fluttered across his back. Even beneath the smoke, he could smell her shampoo, some kind of flowery soap on her skin. His body tightened all over. “How does it look?”

  “Raw.” She carefully touched the scrape, leaning farther into him to reach more of it.

  He could feel the warmth of her body. She was too close, too tempting, and he couldn’t resist. Very lightly, so he wouldn’t spook her into jabbing that swab into his wound, he blew in her ear. She shivered, sending him a sideways look as if trying to decide if he’d done something.

  He managed to keep his face blank. He’d never known a woman who could hide her emotions so well, but it didn’t occur to him that she wasn’t interested. He knew she was.

  Something had happened between them, something that had knocked him to the moon, and she was going to admit to it. He didn’t care if he was being driven by a blow to his pride. How could she act like he’d never had his mouth on hers? How could she even pretend nothing had happened? She’d practically melted all over him.

  She shifted, her silky hair teasing his cheek. She smelled like a dark, sultry night; her skin glowed like pearls. He wanted to put his mouth on her, mark her. He barely moved his head, and his face was in her hair. He nuzzled her behind the ear.

  She came up so fast she nearly hit his chin. Her eyes narrowed on him. She tossed the swab into the trash and stepped back, screwing on the cap to the ointment. “There.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her eyes wary, she laid the tube on the countertop beside him and moved toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He didn’t care how he stopped her from leaving, but he was stopping her. He was getting ready to bluntly remind her of their kiss, get her good and flustered when her gaze dropped to his leg.

  She frowned. “Your knee’s bleeding.”

  He glanced down, saw the dark stain on his jeans.

  “You’d better put some antiseptic on it.”

  “Careful, Blaze. I might start to think you care.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Can’t afford for you to drop off the case, McClain. I don’t have time to catch somebody else up on the details.”

  “Ah, you’re making me all misty.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Listen, I can help you with your knee if you need it. Otherwise…”

  “Could you get me a pair of shorts? I’ll do the rest.”

  “Sure.”

  “Bottom right drawer of my dresser.”

  She disappeared into his bedroom. She might not be falling all over him, but he’d seen her pulse jump in her neck when he’d nuzzled her, spied a glimpse of the desire he’d seen the other night. Having her so close revved him up. He was sore, but he wasn’t numb.

  Kiley returned to hand him a pair of gray cotton gym shorts.

  “I appreciate it. Wanna help me take off my pants?”

  She laughed. “This isn’t one of your dreams, McClain.”

  He grinned.

  “Need anything else?”

  “You could stay and talk to me.”

  “You should rest.”

  “You could stay and rest with me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Give it up. You just whacked your head hard enough to split it open.”

  “What if I pass out or something?”

  She pressed her lips together as if trying not to laugh. “Seriously, do you need me?”

  “Yes,” he murmured, locking his gaze with hers, knowing just what would get her. “I need you to kiss me and make it better.”

  “I am not going to kiss it—” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you say kiss me?”

  “Pretty please? I’m askin’ real nice.”

  “McClain,” she gritted out. Fire blazed in her eyes.

  He could barely keep from laughing. “Double-dog dare ya.”

  She scooped his sweater off the floor and threw it at him, turning for the door. “I’m outta here.”

  She wasn’t leaving until he got what he wanted. “Blaze?”

  “What?” she snapped over her shoulder.

  He wanted her to look at him. “That kiss?”

  She spun, her eyes wide. “Hey, we agreed that never happ—”

  “It happened, and I’m not going to forget it. I’m not going to let you forget it, either.”

  For a heartbeat, she looked nonplussed, then emotions—panic, exasperation, uncertainty—flashed across her features in rapid succession. She stared hard at him, frowning fiercely. “Well, crap.”

  She turned on her heel and marched away. Collier burst out laughing, then grabbed his head as a sharp pain drilled through his skull. The door leading out to his garage slammed; he heard her car start.

  His ego was satisfied. He was starting to think his body never would be.

  Chapter 7

  Kiley thought she was prepared to see Collier the next morning, but when she walked up to the waiting area to board their flight and saw him, her stomach dipped. His short hair was mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. He looked darkly handsome in a black suit and white shirt; his muted green-and-blue tie made his eyes seem even more green.

  The bulky bandage at his temple had been replaced with a small butterfly Band-Aid. His right leg was stretched out, probably because it hurt to bend his injured knee. He glanced up and saw her, folding his newspaper and moving his coat out of the seat next to his.
r />   She really didn’t know how to act around him. The way her blood had been rushing since last night, at his house, had her warily eyeing him.

  The man had been banged up worse than a bull rider and he’d still been able to get to her. She couldn’t believe he’d reminded her of that kiss. She didn’t need a reminder. Her brain had locked on to that out-of-body experience tighter than spandex on a hooker.

  The best way to deal with him and her hormones was to stick to strictly business. Thank goodness they weren’t sitting together during the flight to St. Louis. She could stay focused on the job if she had some space. The more she was around him, the more she liked him. Yes, he was a hound dog, but he was a really nice guy. Of course, most people thought her dad was nice, too, Kiley reminded herself.

  She’d snagged two coffees from a nearby kiosk. He saw her and held up two of his own. “Great minds.”

  She smiled, absurdly touched that he’d brought her some, as well.

  Keeping her coat on, she took the seat next to his. He eyed her purse on the floor. “What do you have in there for breakfast today? Biscuits and eggs?”

  She laughed. “Nothing. I ate at home.”

  He grinned, his gaze moving over her dark coat, the black dress boots she’d worn with her slim nutmeg slacks and soft sweater of the same color. “Thanks for helping me last night.”

  “You’re welcome.” She’d helped him out just as she would any partner. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Sore, stiff, but I got here without a cane.” He touched the bandage at his temple. “And my headache’s gone.”

  “Good. You weren’t so cheery the last time I saw you this early in the morning. Is that a side effect of your injury?”

  “I’ve got some coffee in me. I can function now.”

  “Maybe you can convince the Embrys to tell us something.”

  “Maybe.” He pushed himself out of his seat. “I’m going to see if our plane is on time. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thanks.” She held up both coffees. “I’m good.”

  He limped away but soon returned, favoring his injured leg as he lowered himself into the chair beside her. He gave her part of the newspaper, and they read in silence. She was insanely aware of how good he looked and smelled. Thirty minutes later they boarded.

  Kiley breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to sit next to him on the flight to St. Louis. He moved up the aisle behind her. She spotted her row, and his three rows back.

  She found her place and edged in next to the window. She put her purse under the seat in front of her.

  Collier sat down beside her.

  Her gaze jerked to his. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking my seat.” He grimaced as he bent his right knee and moved his long leg out of the way of boarding passengers.

  She chuckled. He wasn’t going to get to her today. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Your seat’s back there.”

  “Not anymore.” Smiling, he leveled his gaze into hers. “I switched.”

  “You switched?” she choked out. “But I made the reservations. They told me—you did it when you went to check on the flight.”

  He grinned, and her stomach did that funny flip it had done when she’d seen him earlier. She didn’t want to sit by him. Last night at his house she’d nearly caved in to his flirting. “What’s going on, McClain?”

  “We can put our heads together.”

  “Listen here—”

  “On the case. We want to have our ducks in a row when we see Doug Embry.”

  She couldn’t argue with that, but she wanted to. The look in his green eyes dared her to acknowledge that sitting so close to him bothered her. It did a lot more than bother her. It sent reckless, stupid thoughts through her mind, like wishing she had kissed his wounds last night. Along with the rest of him.

  No way was she letting on. He felt well enough to bug her so she couldn’t even get mad at him for changing his seat. As long as she focused on her job, she could handle him. “All right.”

  “Should we come up with some kind of excuse to talk to the Embrys? Since they haven’t cooperated so far by returning our calls, I don’t figure they’ll throw the door open and invite us in.”

  “Good point.”

  He settled into his seat, his broad shoulder against hers.

  As he fastened his seat belt, his arm bumped hers. She could feel the heat and hardness of his lean thigh along hers. She plucked a dog-eared magazine from the pocket in front of her and crossed her legs, eliminating one contact point.

  Once the plane reached its cruising altitude, he unbuckled his seat belt and shifted in his chair. His knee bumped hers, but she didn’t say anything. It was obvious he was trying to find a comfortable position for his bruised body. She wanted to do something for him to take away the pain.

  When she’d seen the blood on his head last night, she’d been truly alarmed. More than she’d ever been for an injured colleague. She couldn’t deny any longer that he was getting to her, but that didn’t mean she had to do anything about it. “I hope we get somewhere with Embry’s parents.”

  “Yeah. I’d like to find something. If Alan and his girlfriend were in St. Louis the night Lazano was killed, we can mark him off as having been at that murder scene. But not off the list of suspects, since he could have hired the shooter.”

  “True. It was a good idea to come up here.” The tang of his aftershave teased her. “At least we can get in their faces until we get an answer.”

  “We know Embry told the truth about talking on the phone with Lisa a couple of days after he claims he last saw her.”

  “And we haven’t found anything to prove he’s lying about not having a gun or knowing how to use one.”

  Collier shifted in his chair, adjusting his injured leg.

  “So maybe we’ll get something out of his parents that will jump-start the investigation.” The plane’s engines roared around them, and Kiley leaned in so he could hear her. “We’re due a break.”

  “He’s got motive. Being threatened and humiliated by three guys who work with your ex-wife would make anybody furious.”

  “And rage or jealousy could’ve caused Alan to kill his ex.”

  Collier nodded, laying his head back on the seat. “So far, he’s the only suspect we have with ties to all four victims.”

  “Yeah.”

  He closed his eyes, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from tracking the strongly defined angles of his face. He was the type of man she’d avoided her entire life, but she hadn’t stopped thinking about that kiss or the way he’d nuzzled her neck last night. She hadn’t bought his innocent look for one second. She thought he might’ve blown in her ear, too.

  She wasn’t mad, but she was on guard. Just because she had refused to acknowledge it to Collier didn’t mean she was unaware. She hadn’t been unaware of him since meeting him at that Christmas party.

  As she watched, his forehead creased as though he were in pain.

  She pitched her voice to be heard over the engine noise. “Does your head hurt? I have some aspirin.”

  He cracked open one eye. “Thanks. I don’t think I need them right now.”

  She frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt her heart jump.

  They were nearly nose to nose. She eased away, schooling her expression into what she hoped was a calm mask.

  He closed his eyes again, and she forced her attention back to her magazine.

  The way he looked at her made her pulse wheel and her body go soft in all kinds of secret places. She was starting to think he might not be a selfish lover.

  That was surely her hormones talking.

  Plus probably the fact that she was forced to spend so much time with him. She had to be careful, remember his reputation as the kind of man she knew all too well. Keep reminding herself that they were only partners.

  An hour after landing, they arrived at Doug
and Jackie Embry’s home via rental car. Being a Friday, Kiley and Collier had thought they might find Alan’s father at his law office, but they hadn’t. The phone book had yielded their home address, and Collier had managed to find his way to their neighborhood.

  The middle-class homes had the angled contemporary look that had been popular in the seventies. Kiley double-checked the address of the steep-roofed, white brick home, then got out and walked with Collier up a set of broad steps to the porch. Bright sunshine did nothing to warm the air; frigid January wind swept along the porch, stinging her cheeks.

  They rang the doorbell, and a pleasant-looking woman with short graying hair and smiling eyes answered.

  “Yes. May I help you?”

  Kiley reached for her badge, feeling Collier do the same. They’d made up an excuse on the ride over as a way to get inside the Embrys’ home and talk to them, but her instincts told her they didn’t need it. “I’m Detective Russell and this is Investigator McClain. We’re from Presley, Oklahoma.”

  “My son lives there.” Alarm streaked through her eyes. “Has something happened?”

  “Your son’s fine, Mrs. Embry,” Kiley assured her. “We’re conducting an investigation and need to ask you some questions. Just to tie up a few loose ends.”

  “Is this about my former daughter-in-law’s murder, then?”

  “Not specifically.”

  She looked visibly relieved but curious. “Come in and have a seat. May I get you some coffee or something else to drink?”

  “No, thank you.” Collier slid his badge back into the pocket of his black coat. “We don’t plan to stay long.”

  She led them into a narrow living room with dark walls and light carpet. “If Alan’s okay, then what is this about?”

  “We need to find out—”

  “Don’t say anything, Jackie.” A deep masculine voice came from behind Kiley. “We don’t have to talk to them.”

  She turned with Collier, who said, “Mr. Embry, we only need a few minutes of your time.”

  Behind a pair of black frame glasses, the man’s eyes narrowed on his wife. “You didn’t have to let them in.”

  “What’s the harm, Doug? They’re just tying up some loose ends.”