Jodie's Little Secrets Page 17

  He tilted his head back and took a long swig of the whiskey, feeling the burn and wishing it were more harsh. Physical pain was a comfort compared to baring his soul.

  “That must have been hard on you.”

  There it was again, the cool voice of reason, spewing from the mouth of a sexy redhead who had been through hell herself. She never ceased to amaze him.

  “It was too hard. So I took the path of least resistance. I went the opposite direction, looking for things that would shock, things that would make the citizens’ of Natchitoches tongues wag, things that would make my dad lash out at me for being the disappointing son I was.”

  “But you went to college and turned your life around.”

  “I went away to college and got Sylvia Stevens pregnant.”

  “Sylvia Stevens?” Jodie’s voice rose an octave or two. Now he had her attention.

  “The one and only. Sweet, hometown girl who raced from one beauty title to another. We made love one night after a fraternity party. A month later she showed up at my door and told me she was pregnant with my child.”

  “Did you love her? Did she love you?”

  “No, to both questions. I told her I doubted the baby was mine.”

  Memories grappled with his self-control, tension turning his stomach into a war zone. He ground his right fist into his left palm, his mouth set so tight he could feel his teeth grinding together.

  “She was scared to death, sure her mom was going to go ballistic when she found out her daughter would have to drop out of the Miss Louisiana Pageant. Apparently, the contests were as much for her mom as they were for her. Sylvia begged me to run off with her and get married.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I demanded proof the baby was mine. I should have been supportive. But, true to form I handled everything all wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  “Sylvia took an overdose of sleeping pills. She didn’t die, but she came close.”

  Jodie sat quietly, her gaze penetrating, unreadable.

  “Have you heard enough?” he asked.

  “Not until I’ve heard it all. What happened to the baby?”

  “Turns out there wasn’t one. It was a missed diagnosis on the doctor’s part. But complications resulting from the overdose forced her to withdraw from the Miss Louisiana Pageant. Her chance at becoming Miss America was lost, and once again I was guilty of spoiling someone’s dreams. And no one hated me more than I hated myself.”

  “You weren’t to blame. How could you even think that? You had no way of knowing she’d react so dangerously when you asked for proof of parentage. You couldn’t have been more than eighteen at the time.”

  Ray poured himself another drink. “Neither Sylvia nor her mother saw it exactly the way you do. And like all tragedies, there’s an epilogue.”

  “She can’t still blame you.”

  “No. Blame wasn’t good enough. Sylvia went to my dad and asked for money to start her life over. A lot of money in exchange for keeping quiet about the fact that his son had caused her such pain. She failed to mention to him that although we had made love, there never was a baby. He thought she had lost it when she took the sleeping pills.”

  “That’s blatantly dishonest. Surely he didn’t give her money without asking you.”

  “Of course. He would have given her twice that amount to keep her from blabbing the story to his friends. Natchitoches is a small town. They don’t forgive too easily, at least that has always been my dad’s theory. Not when it’s The Judge’s son who’s involved.”

  “Then all of you were wrong.”

  “No, I was wrong. I’ve regretted my mistakes every minute of every day since I ruined my dad’s and Sylvia’s lives, but regrets don’t change anything.”

  “People were disappointed, Ray. Their lives weren’t ruined.”

  He met Jodie’s gaze. Her eyes burned with concern and a depth of understanding that touched his soul. It was as if her compassion released the doors he’d closed on his past and let him explore the disillusionment in a new light.

  “My dad and Sylvia wouldn’t agree with you. I committed a mistake that made it possible for Sylvia to believe she was pregnant. I let her leave in a state of fury. And, at least in my dad’s eyes, I led him into blackmail, caused him to break the law he’d spent his adult life interpreting.”

  “But you were only a freshman in college. You panicked and understandably so. Maybe you didn’t handle the situation with great empathy, but asking for proof of parentage was sensible. You can’t be blamed for the overdose and certainly not for your dad giving in to blackmail threats.”

  “Why not? I caused everything else bad that happened in my parents’ lives. My parents never forgave me and neither did Sylvia and her family. Apparently the houseful of trophies she’d won meant nothing without the Miss America crown.”

  “Even if she’d made it that far, she had only a chance of winning. Your dad is not still paying Sylvia money, is he?”

  “No. He stopped after the second payment. That’s when some reporter found out that hard-hitting Judge Parker, the man who had no empathy for anyone found guilty of unlawful behavior, was paying a young girl to keep quiet”

  “How would a reporter find out?”

  “From Sylvia. My dad quit paying. She followed through on her threat to make us suffer for her pain and disappointment. And she had copies of the checks to back up her story.”

  “The killing cycle of deceit.”

  “The only solution in my dad’s mind was to step down from the judgeship. He hung up his robes and slipped into a depression that lasted for two years. Being a judge was his life, his symbol that he was what a man should be, better than the best. I took that away from him and nothing I can do now will change that.”

  Jodie walked over and wrapped her arms about him. The pain in his gut intensified. “I always let the people down who depend on me. If you were smart, you’d be running out the door now,” he whispered.

  “I’m not running anywhere.” She hugged him close, the warmth of her melting the ice that coursed his veins.

  “You’ll be sorry. You can’t count on me. Ask my dad.”

  “I don’t have to ask anyone. I can see for myself who you are—a troubled boy who matured into a wonderful man.” A tear trickled down her cheek. He whisked it away with his fingertips.

  “Don’t you see,” she continued, the love in her eyes so tangible, he felt he could hold it in his hands. “In spite of all the conflict between you and your dad, he called, and you put your own career on hold to come running. You moved into my house the second you realized I was in danger, and you’ve barely left my side since. You’ve put your own life on the line to keep me and our sons safe.”

  She stretched on tiptoes and touched her lips to his. “I love you, Ray Kostner. I think I have since the first time you gave me a careless peck on the cheek on my fourteenth birthday.”

  “You beat me.” He kissed her moist eyes and the tip of her nose. “It was the night of your senior prom that did me in. The last kiss, at your front door. I fell so hard my head was still ringing from the blow years later, when I finally looked you up in New York.”

  “We saw each other several times when I first got to LSU,” she said, her mouth inches from his. “You showed me the ropes, the impressive law student helping out the freshman coed. I never once guessed you cared about me.”

  “I didn’t have the right. I still don’t.”

  “I do. I claim the right to love you.”

  While he watched, she slipped out of the terry robe and let it slide it to the carpet. “I want you, Ray, all of you. Tonight and forever.”

  “I can’t promise anything.”

  “I didn’t ask for promises. I said I love you. Unconditionally. The way you are.”

  Emotions exploded inside him. Whether he deserved it or not, Jodie was here, knowing the truth and still loving him. For now, that was all that mattered. He picked her up and car
ried her to the bed, laying her atop the cool sheets, watching her hair spread like a halo of fire over the pillows.

  She pulled him down beside her, running her fingers across his chest, catching the matted dark hairs around her fingers.

  “The nightie is exquisite,” he whispered, responding to her touch with the primal cravings she always aroused. “But it has to go.”

  “You first.”

  She ran her finger down his torso, loosening the tie at the waist of his pajamas and scooting them down past his hips. He shed them quickly and then started on her, untying the lacy ribbon, releasing her breasts.

  He buried his mouth in one, caressing, sucking, kneading the nipple with his lips and tongue until it stood at rock-hard attention. Only then did he start the exotic journey down the smooth flesh of her belly, his hands sliding over her hips.

  Tiny moans escaped her lips, driving him on.

  He teased and taunted every soft curve, his fingers and lips seeking the places that gave her the most pleasure. His efforts were rewarded with streams of liquid fire.

  “Please, Ray,” she begged. “I need you now.”

  He raised over her and she spread her legs, curling them around him, her body thrusting toward him. He slipped inside her, pushing, throbbing with the need to satisfy her before he lost all control.

  She came in an explosion of passion, so intense it sucked her breath away, so perfect he soared with her to the heights before collapsing almost lifeless into the afterglow of fulfillment.

  He rolled over, still inside her, her body moist and warm next to his. He didn’t know if he was right for her, couldn’t believe that joy like this was his for the taking. He only knew that life had never felt so wonderful before.

  He closed his eyes and pretended Saturday and her possible date with a killer was only a nightmare that would be gone when he opened them again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sun had just poked its head above the horizon Saturday morning when Jodie crept from the bed, careful not to wake Ray. They had both lain awake until the wee hours this morning, making love, talking about what the day might bring and then holding each other until they fell asleep.

  Ray and Butch both saw only the danger in the personal ad. Jodie saw more. It was a chance to draw the stalker out of the shadows and into the light. And if the stalker actually read the ad and called, Butch would be the real undercover cop, following her in secret, watching her from a safe distance, stepping in if the stalker presented any danger. Arresting him when they had the evidence to make murder charges stick.

  She had to go through with this. She had everything to gain. She had nothing to lose.

  Except her life.

  If all went as planned she would be face-to-face with the man who had broken into her apartment, run his hands over her intimate apparel, released his evil all around her like a poisonous gas, deadly yet invisible.

  She hugged her arms about her chest and fought the apprehension that rode her nerves like a river of ice.

  Ray roused, stretching, one foot escaping the covers. “What time is it?”

  “It’s early. I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. I’ll go downstairs and start the coffee.” She bent over and kissed the top of his head.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course, I’m all right. And don’t go around asking me that all day. If you do, Grams will know something is up. As it is, she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

  “You underestimate the lady. She can’t remember past her last step, but she’s as shrewd as they come at figuring out what you don’t want her to know.”

  “Tell me about it. That’s why we have to be extra careful. No one knows about the ad but you, me, Cappan and the local police. We have to make sure it stays that way if this plan has a chance of working.”

  “Just us and every man, woman and child who reads the personal ads.”

  “But all they have is a phone number,” she assured him.

  “Phone numbers can easily be matched to addresses.”

  “Go back to sleep,” she whispered. Sliding into her slippers, she tiptoed down the stairs and into the foyer. Unlatching the dead bolt, she opened the door and scanned the area. No newspaper, and there probably wouldn’t be one for another hour. But at some houses in Natchitoches and in the surrounding areas, the paper would have already been delivered, the weekend supplement with the personal ads folded neatly inside.

  Seconds later, she had the coffee brewing and a couple of pieces of wheat bread in the toaster. The sun was pouring in the window now, painting the kitchen floor and walls in blinding beams.

  Pulling out a tray, Jodie loaded it with two coffee cups, spoons, sugar, cream, toast plates and a crystal bowl of preserves. Not a full breakfast, but a bite. She’d be surprised if either she or Ray managed to get it down.

  When the coffee was ready, she filled a silver pitcher and added it to the tray. The trappings of a holiday for lovers to counteract the ominous cloud that hung over them. Careful not to spill the coffee, she ascended the steep staircase to her bedroom.

  “What is this?” she said, pushing through the door. Ray was lying in the middle of the bed and Blake was climbing over him, trying to grasp and pull one of his dad’s ears.

  “He was awake, rooting around like a hungry armadillo, so I went and got him before he woke Blair. He was wet. I changed him.”

  Ray held Blake up so Jodie could admire his handiwork. “We didn’t bother putting the pajama bottoms back on. He said he needed more freedom to kick.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?”

  “Yeah. It sounded like, ‘gibber ga ga gaboo,’ but I understood him.”

  “You are a man of many talents.” She sat the tray on the table.

  The phone rang, shattering the moment. They both grew silent, listening as the newly installed second line completed its first and second rings. Before it started its third, Jodie picked up the receiver.

  “Hello.” The word was almost lost, stuck in her throat behind a strangling lump.

  “Are you the lady who put the ad in the personal column?” The voice was low and husky, and she could hear deep breathing through the line.

  “Yes.” She had to push the word out of her clogged throat.

  “What do you look like? Are you pretty with long blond hair and big breasts? If you are, I’d like to meet you. Anytime, anywhere. I’d like to…”

  Violent shivers shook Jodie’s body while the raspy voice on the line told her in painstakingly filthy detail what he’d like to do to her.

  Shaking, she slammed the receiver into the cradle.

  “It wasn’t him,” she said. “It was an obscene caller who didn’t even know what I look like.”

  “The kind of low-life pervert that ad of yours is bound to appeal to. Give it up, Jodie, now, while you still can.”

  She ran a finger down his cheek. “I’d like nothing better. You must know that. But I can’t go on living in constant fear for myself and everybody I love.”

  The red lights on the baby monitor lit up like a Christmas tree, and loud howls blasted forth from the box.

  “Looks like your brother’s awake, Blake.” For once, the howls were a welcome relief. Jodie’s nerves were too shot to argue with Ray.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to get upset with you, Jodie. But when I saw the look on your face while that man poured out his filth, I wanted to climb through the phone and plant a fist upside his head.”

  “Let’s just drop it, Ray. If it takes hearing a few bad words to find Max’s killer and stop the assault on my life, I can handle it.” With that she was out of the door, hoping she was telling the truth. Caller number one still had her quaking.

  THERE WERE A couple of more calls on Saturday morning. The second rivaled the first for indecent proposals. The third was a soft-spoken man who claimed he was looking for a lasting relationship with a good woman.

  By the time the boys were down for their aftern
oon nap, Jodie had stuck the cordless phone in her pocket and retreated to the back porch for a cup of tea. Ray was in the study, typing on his laptop.

  She settled in the wooden rocker, letting her heavy eyelids close and her mind wander. Male voices shook her to attention just before sleep claimed her.

  Grady and Butch walked up from the back of the property, talking and laughing like old friends. It had been less than an hour since Butch had called for late-breaking information on the success of the ad.

  Now he was here, obviously checking on everything for himself. Somehow she was sure the visit was due to a request by Ray. The no-ties man was doing an excellent imitation of a worried husband and father. Had she not been walking on eggshells herself, she could have appreciated the attention a lot more.

  “He’s been hanging around the boathouse, asking me a bunch of questions,” Grady said, his voice carrying from the walk to the porch.

  “I want you to keep a close eye on him for me. I don’t trust the man as far as I can spit.”

  “Who is it that you don’t trust, Butch?” she asked as he neared the porch.

  “Selda’s tenant.”

  “I thought you already checked him out”

  “I did. Record’s clean, but I’ve had a man tailing him the past couple of days. He hasn’t been near a plantation. Close as we can tell, he’s just hanging around town, taking a bunch of pictures of everything and everybody and asking a lot of questions about things that shouldn’t concern him.” He propped a foot on the bottom step. “How friendly has he been with you?”

  “We’ve talked. Nothing out of line. In fact, he started my car one day when it had stalled in town.”

  “You didn’t mention that to me.”

  “It had nothing to do with you. He wasn’t threatening, just helpful.” She stared up at the window to his room. The blinds were closed tight. “He did ask me if I’d have dinner with him sometime.”

  Butch’s eyebrows shot up like question marks.