All I Want For Christmas Page 11

  “Surely you’ve done your Christmas shopping by now,” he teased.

  “Bought, wrapped and hidden away. I don’t buy many, and I never wait until the last minute. I hate impulse buying.”

  “Me, too. I always start my shopping a full twenty-four hours before Christmas, most years anyway.”

  Rebecca yanked on his hand, pulling him to a stop in front of a shop window. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she crooned, pointing to a porcelain doll in a miniature high chair.

  “She is beautiful, and she has freckles on her nose, just like you.” He touched a finger to the tip of Rebecca’s nose, and she giggled softly.

  Susan stood back to scrutinize the doll. “Is that what you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”

  “No, ma’am. Not this year. I’ve already asked for something else.” She squeezed Jack’s hand conspiratorially. “I only want one thing for Christmas, and I hope Santa brings it to me. Do you think he will, Detective Santa?”

  Jack thought for a minute and then wished he had the ability to kick himself in the seat of the pants. He’d completely forgotten about Rebecca’s request on the night she’d met him. She wanted a husband for her Auntie Mom.

  He’d been too busy making sure her Auntie Mom stayed alive to even think about that again. Now that he had, he didn’t like the idea at all.

  Susan going for ice cream with some other man, decorating a Christmas tree with someone else, crawling into bed beside some stranger who didn’t know how to make her laugh. He groaned inwardly at the thought.

  “Sometimes Santa can’t deliver what you ask for, Rebecca. When that happens, he brings something else just as good, maybe better.”

  “I don’t want anything else.”

  “Not even a beautiful doll with freckles?” Susan coaxed.

  “No, ma’am. If I can’t have what I asked for, I guess I don’t want anything.” She left the window and started walking.

  Regret balled in Jack’s gut as he followed along. He should have never played along with Rebecca, let her believe even for a few minutes that he might be the real Santa. Now she had her heart set on something he couldn’t possibly deliver.

  Hell, he didn’t even know anyone good enough for a woman like Susan to marry. And if he did, he wouldn’t introduce them. He was a good loser, but not that good.

  This time it was Susan who stopped. “I know the woman who owns this shop,” she said. “She travels to Europe twice a year to buy antiques. Like that table in the corner with the inlaid design. It must be worth a fortune.”

  “Another of your well-heeled patients.”

  “Proof that money does not buy happiness. Carolina is always searching for something more. Her workaholic husband doesn’t help matters.”

  “I want ice cream,” Timmy said, taking Susan’s hand and tugging. She followed his lead, but she was still quiet when they rounded the corner and entered the icecream shop. Worrying about Carolina Taylor, Jack suspected.

  Her file had been one of the two Chambers had out the night he’d found him doing his after-hours snooping. He didn’t remember anything particularly unusual about her except that she liked to have fun and her husband didn’t accommodate her.

  Rebecca and Timmy looked at everything before deciding on double dips of chocolate. Jack chose a sundae, loaded with hot fudge sauce and whipped cream. Susan had a dish of vanilla.

  Rebecca and Timmy took their cones to the back counter to watch the movements of an animated Christmas display. Jack pulled up two chairs and pushed them to a nearby table where he and Susan could keep an eye on them.

  Susan toyed with her treat, barely tasting it.

  “You’re wasting good ice cream.”

  “I know. I was thinking about Gabriel.”

  “It’s always hard to accept that someone you know could take a life.” He took her hands in his. Tonight might be the last chance he ever got to hold them. The last time he sat across from her, her knee brushing his.

  He hadn’t felt this way about a woman in a long time. The last time he had, the ending hadn’t been happy. There was no reason to think another marriage would be any different, but it wasn’t marriage he was considering. Just a relationship, for however long it lasted.

  He captured her gaze. Her eyes reached out to him, and he knew he couldn’t just walk away without at least giving them a chance. And he might never have a better opportunity than tonight.

  Chapter Eight

  Jack thumbed through Susan’s stack of CDs while she tucked Rebecca and Timmy into bed. He chose a jazz instrumental he’d heard Susan play before and inserted it in the player, adjusting the volume to a romantic level.

  He’d told her he wanted to talk, and she’d suggested he stay while she got the kids bathed and bedded. She might not have agreed so willingly had she known what he wanted to talk about. Nonetheless, he’d joined in the fun, splashing water with Timmy and reading a story to Rebecca.

  But now that the moment of truth was nearing, he wondered what in hell he was doing playing house in the residence of one of New Orleans’ best-known shrinks. Lowly homicide detectives did not socialize with the likes of her. But unless he was way off base, she was feeling the same attraction he was.

  Could it have only been four nights ago that he’d left here wishing he never had to face the dragon lady again? A couple of murders ago. Gabriel Hornsby, prominent New Orleans surgeon, goes over the edge and kills his wife.

  The newspaper reporters and television news anchors were having a field day. He’d seen the excitement in their eyes when he’d explained the notes and the fact that Hornsby was also charged in the death of Maggie Henderson. If it was up to him, the news media would get only the barest of facts, but he wasn’t the Chief. And he wasn’t looking for any political favors.

  Susan would draw front-page headlines. Reporters would be on her doorstep and in her face. Poor reporters. She’d send them running for cover. Even they were no match for his dragon lady. The police department would be hounded by criticism. No matter that they had solved a major case, the people would howl and demand to know why they hadn’t been warned earlier that a serial killer was on the loose. The life of a cop.

  “I see you found the compact discs,” Susan said walking through the door.

  “Is it too loud for the kids?”

  “No, they’re used to it. I like to listen to music at night after they’re tucked in. Could I get you something, a glass of wine or coffee? I think there might even be a couple of Dixie beers in there.”

  “Beer sounds good, but let me get it. You’ve had a long day. What can I get you?”

  “Since you ask, I’d love a glass of Chablis. I have some chilled.”

  Jack went to the kitchen. Finding the chilled wine and the beer was easy, but he had to open several cabinet doors before he located a crystal flute. Like everything about her life, Susan’s cabinets were neat and organized.

  The addition of two children as lively as Timmy and Rebecca must have really thrown her into a tailspin No wonder they had her buffaloed half the time. And no wonder Rebecca thought Susan needed help handling them. Rebecca was a very astute little girl.

  By the time he returned to the living room, Susan had pulled her feet under her on the couch and tucked them beneath a quilted throw. Long tresses of sandy blond hair had broken loose from the oversized barrette on top of her head to cascade about her shoulders.

  The heart he liked to think of as being as tough as nails did a flip-flop. The intimidating doctor had dropped her untouchable façade. She looked vulnerable and innocent, and so enticing it was all he could do not to gather her in his arms and carry her off. Like a caveman claiming his woman.

  But she wasn’t his woman. If he were half-smart, he’d just tiptoe out the door and out of her life before she threw him out. But then no one had ever accused Jack Carter of being overly smart where women were concerned.

  He dimmed the light and settled down on the couch beside her, his heart suddenly beating fas
t. He felt like a schoolboy who was about to steal his first kiss.

  She rearranged a pillow behind her back and stretched her feet back to the floor. She reached for her glass of wine and took it from him, her fingers brushing his.

  An accidental touch, but it added new fuel to the fire that was burning inside him. She took a slow sip, the wine wetting her heart-shaped lips.

  He cautioned himself to move slowly, although slow was not his style. But rushing wouldn’t work with Susan. He settled back against the cushion, his gaze fastened on her. “The kids seemed to have a good time tonight. They have a way of livening up the season.”

  “I never dreamed Christmas would mean this much to them.”

  He ran his hand along the back edge of the couch and traced the lines in her neck with his fingers. “So you’re not still mad at me for bringing the tree?”

  “No. I guess I owe you an apology for my tirade.”

  “An apology sounds nice. But I have a better idea for payment.” He leaned closer, his fingers tangling in her silky hair. One hand under her chin, he tilted her face upward until their gaze met and held, and all his words of caution went up in smoke.

  “What is it you want?” Her voice was throaty, breathless.

  “I want to kiss you, Susan. I want you to forget all of your rules, all of your psychological jargon and kiss me back. No strings, no promises, just two people who aren’t afraid to admit they have feelings for each other.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. If there’s someone else, or if I’ve misread the signs, all you have to do is say so. I’ll walk out of your life the same way I walked in.”

  Susan tried to think logically, to come up with all the reasons she should get up and escort Jack to the door. He was all of the things she wasn’t. Open, spontaneous, exciting. A relationship between them would mean never-ending conflict. Neither of them could give what the other needed.

  Besides, she didn’t have time for a man in her schedule right now. Balancing a career and tending to Rebecca and Timmy took all of her time and energy. The excuses were all there and all valid. She knew what she should do.

  But her body refused to listen. Jack was beside her, the way he had been through all of this. Strong and masculine, warm and funny, and unbelievably exciting. She ached to feel his lips on hers, to press her body against his.

  No strings, no promises. Just two people who wanted and needed each other. That’s what Jack said, and she’d never needed anything more.

  She raised her head and touched her lips to his. And once she did there was no pulling away. The fatigue and stress she’d fought for days vanished, and all she felt was passion, as real as the arms that wrapped around her. It rose inside her and consumed her.

  She swayed closer and his arms tightened around her, his fingers searing a path down her neck and along her shoulders. Her insides melted, and she opened her lips and welcomed his thrusting tongue.

  Finally, it was Jack who pulled away. With a finger, he traced a path from her forehead, to the tip of her nose and down to her lips. “You’re quite a woman,” he whispered, his eyes devouring her, as if he had to memorize every line before he looked away.

  She trembled, and he rocked her against him.

  “I have to go now,” he said, “before I do something you’re not ready for.”

  She sucked in a steadying breath. In the morning, she might feel gratitude for his consideration. Tonight she longed for more. “You don’t have to leave. I’ll make coffee.”

  He stood without letting go of her hands. “No, if I stay, it’s not coffee I’ll be wanting.”

  She knew what he wanted. She wanted it, too, but she couldn’t make love to him. Not yet. For her, making love couldn’t be separated from commitment and involvement. It was not nearly the same as a no-strings kiss.

  “Do you want me to stay, Susan?”

  “Not tonight, Jack.” She whispered the words through a cottony dryness that all but choked them away. Trembling, she undraped the throw that still covered her legs and stood. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  She did and they said their goodbyes as he poked his arms into his jacket. “It’s been quite a day,” he said, turning the key in the lock.

  She slid into his arms and lifted her face for one last taste of him. The kiss was full on the lips, and she held on until she had to come up for air. “I’m not usually like this,” she murmured, letting go of him and leaning against the door frame.

  “You don’t say,” he teased. “Who’d have ever guessed?”

  She watched until he’d disappeared in the darkness. No telling where he’d left his car, since he’d shown up tonight in a white carriage.

  No matter. He’d be safe. No mugger in their right mind would mess with Jack Carter. Even in a Santa hat, his size and swagger broadcast that he was a man to be reckoned with.

  She locked the door and turned out the light. The events of the day, the sleepless night, the wine and the kisses were all taking their toll on her equilibrium. Perhaps they’d also taken their toll on her senses.

  The next thing you knew she might even start believing in Santa. She’d already fallen under the spell of Detective Jack Carter, and that was far more dangerous.

  She touched her fingers to her lips. They were sensitive, and swollen and still warm from his touch. It couldn’t last long. Nothing this good ever had, but when it crumbled, she’d have a few good memories tucked away in her mind.

  And then on cold, dark nights when the nightmares of this week came back to haunt her, she could pull them out and use them to frighten the evil away.

  THE MAN MOVED in the shadows, watching as the detective left Dr. McKnight’s apartment. Apparently, there was more than police business going on between the two of them. He’d guessed as much tonight at the square when he’d seen the way he looked at her.

  Two people out on the town and in love. They thought they had it all behind them. They’d change their mind when the next note was delivered.

  It was all amazingly easy. Crazy! He’d show the good doctor. He was still smart enough to fool her and that arrogant detective. He couldn’t wait to finish what he’d started, couldn’t wait to hear Susan McKnight beg for mercy.

  His would be the last face she saw before she closed her eyes forever. But still that wouldn’t be enough. He had to think of something more frightening than just killing her, something more terrifying than the threat of killing her patients. He had to do something that would reach inside and tear the heart right out of her.

  He wanted to be around to watch on the longest day of her life. Then he could leave this all behind him.

  Jack disappeared around the corner, and the lone man stepped out from the shadows. Just another man walking the streets of the French Quarter. But he had plans to make and business to take care of. Christmas was almost here.

  Monday, December 20

  8:00 a.m.

  JACK GROANED and buried his head under his pillow. It didn’t help. The phone kept up its shrill ringing. Giving up, he grabbed it and managed to bark a hoarse hello into the receiver.

  “Don’t tell me you were still asleep.”

  “Just get on with it, Casanova. And skip the sarcasm.”

  “You sound like you’re in a bad mood. You’re about to be in a worse one. Have you read the headlines?”

  “No, I had been spared opening my eyes until you called.”

  “You’ll find them interesting, and so will your dragon lady. But that’s not why I called you.”

  “Good, I’d hate to think you just couldn’t wait to ruin my day.”

  “I checked out the names on that list you gave me yesterday.”

  “A little after the fact now.”

  “Or maybe not. One of the men looks very interesting.”

  Jack untangled himself from the sheet and slung his legs over the side of the bed. “You’ve got my attention.”

  “J. J. Darby. Arrested seven years ago for strangling his girlfri
end with a silk scarf. He was suspected of killing two other girls the same way, but they couldn’t tie him to those.”

  “Possibly strangled three girls with a silk scarf. Where was that?”

  “The first two were in Arkansas. The last was in Texas, but he wasn’t necessarily consistent. He went home after killing his girlfriend and shot both of his parents.”

  “So, why was he at the Center instead of rotting in jail?”

  “Some psychiatrist determined that he was incompetent to stand trial. So he went on an extended vacation to the Potter-McKnight Center.”

  Jack jumped to his feet and started looking for his shoes. “But he’s not there now?”

  “No, he attacked a nurse last year. They moved him to the state hospital and put him under maximum security. He was a model patient. Restrictions were lifted and he escaped two months ago.”

  Jack balanced the phone between his chin and chest while he yanked on a pair of jeans. “I still think Gabriel’s our man.”

  “In which case you’re not interested?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “So what did you say?”

  “Put out an APB, and I’ll see you in about ten minutes.”

  IT WAS 9:15 when Susan pulled into the parking spot in front of her office. She’d slept late this morning, the first time she’d done that in years, but five days of living with constant fear and dread had taken its toll.

  Stepping out of the car, she smoothed the lines in her blue suit skirt and dodged a newly formed pothole. A neighbor in the house two doors down waved from her porch, and Susan waved back.

  Everything quiet and normal. All the better for dealing with her own conflicting emotions. She’d gone to sleep last night thinking wonderful sexy thoughts about Jack Carter and playing with the idea of what it would have been like if he’d stayed.

  She woke this morning thinking about him, too, but the thought patterns had changed drastically. What could she have possibly been thinking to let him kiss her like that?