Jodie's Little Secrets Page 8

  Bits and pieces from the notes he’d left stabbed their way into her mind, impervious to the miles that hopefully separated her from the man who knew more about her than any lover she’d ever known. Descriptions of the way she looked after her shower, her wet hair dripping onto the tattered blue robe. Sensual details about the fragrance she wore, the way she shook her hair under the dryer, the way she applied creams to her face and body.

  She stopped beneath a tree, her chest closing tight, stealing her breath. If she ever saw this man, surely she would recognize him. Evil that strong had to leave its mark, must surely haunt the eyes.

  The police disagreed with her, telling her it could be anyone. More than likely, he would blend into a crowd, one of the masses. But she couldn’t buy it. She’d felt him, not his touch, but his aura. It had been cold, dark, frightening.

  The way it had been last night at the flower shop. She shivered and tugged her sweater tighter. Maybe the feeling wasn’t reliable after all. It was almost as if he were here now, behind a bush, on the other side of the fence, maybe in the boathouse. But he wasn’t. The watch he’d stolen from Roling had hit the pawnshop today.

  Which meant he had to be in New York and she was freaking out again. She started walking, slowly, still deep in thought. Blake put up a howl. She stopped and bent to kiss his pudgy little cheek. “So, you like speed, do you?”

  He waved his hands at her and managed to throw his bear over the high sides of the wagon. She picked him up and brushed a giant magnolia leaf from his tummy. The bear hairs were a little damp from his overboard experience, but fortunately he’d missed the mud.

  “So, you want to play rough.” She tickled Blake’s stomach with the head of the soft bear, and he erupted in giggles. “And I guess you want action, too,” she said, pulling Blair in on the fun. After a minute of play, she renewed the walk, heading down to the river, this time at a pace that kept the boys happy.

  “Two babies and a pretty lady surrounded by the glories of nature. A Kodak moment.”

  Jodie’s heart slammed into her chest like a runaway train. She spun around and stared in the direction the voice had come from, her fingers tightening around the walkie-talkie. “What do you want?” she asked, staring into a smiling face that peeked over the wooden fence.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just heard laughter and had to check it out. I’m glad I did. A pretty woman is always a refreshing sight.” He stuck a hand over the fence, extended for her to shake. “My name’s Greg Johnson.”

  She studied his eyes. They were brown, deep-set and huddled under thin blond brows, but no more evil than any other eyes she’d ever seen. Still, she ignored his outstretched hand and kept her distance. “What are you doing in the Mayans’s backyard?”

  “Getting a little fresh air. Admiring the view. I’m Miss Selda’s new tenant. She gives me the run of the place, yard included, so I’m not trespassing, if that’s why you’re looking at me like I might be a gypsy out to kidnap you.”

  “I wasn’t aware Miss Selda had a new tenant,” she said, still watching his eyes.

  “She does now. I moved in two days ago. She had a note posted on the bulletin board at the drugstore. I saw it, called her, and, as they say, the rest is history.”

  Jodie let her gaze move past the eyes. The man was slightly older than her, thirty-five or so. His ears were too big, his nose a little pointed, but the grin that spread over his face more than made up for the minor flaws. In her prestalker life, she would have instantly warmed up to him. Today, it was only frigid caution that ran through her blood. She searched her brain for a snatch of memory, something to let her know if she’d seen this man before.

  “What are you doing in Natchitoches?” she asked, bending to pull Blair’s cap down over his ears.

  “Taking pictures. I was just thinking, you and the boys, down by the river, maybe in the motorboat. That would make a great shot for your Christmas cards.”

  “No.” The word flew from her mouth.

  “Okay, just a thought. I wasn’t going to charge you.”

  “It’s not that.” She started to explain, but thought better of it. She studied his face again, memorizing the shape of his nose, the cut of his sun-bleached hair, the way his brows hung low. If nothing else, doing the descriptions for Ray had taught her that she was not nearly observant enough. This time she would be.

  “Are they the kind of pictures you usually take, family photographs?” She fished for more facts.

  “No. I’m a freelancer, which means I shoot anything someone will buy. I’m on my own for this assignment, though. A friend of mine and I are doing a book on Cane River plantations. Hopefully we can get an editor to bite on it.”

  “Where are you from?” She tried to sound casual.

  “Everywhere. Nowhere. I was homeless before it got all the press. This town a while, and then I move on. That way my photos don’t have time to get stale.”

  The wind picked up, whistling through the trees, like a woman moaning, or crying for help. Blair tried to stand up, impatient to be moving again. She resettled him in the wagon, handing him a stuffed raccoon Grams had sent him for his first birthday.

  “Where was your last assignment?”

  “Up north. They’ve already had their first snowstorm. I was glad to relocate. What about you?” he asked, his gaze raking across her.

  Blair started to cry as if on cue. “I have to be going,” she said. “My sons are getting hungry.” She turned the wagon and started back toward the house.

  “I hope to see you again, soon. After all, we’re neighbors now.”

  “I don’t have time to visit much.”

  “Yeah. I’ll bet. Babies are a lot of work even when they don’t come in pairs.” He walked his side of the fence, keeping up with her. “Anyway, I’m glad we met. I was watching you this afternoon.”

  “Why were you watching me?” Suspicion gnawed at her control.

  “I can see your back porch from my room. The first time I’d looked out it was still raining. When I looked again, all I could see was your red hair, shining in the sun. I said to myself then, you should have been a hair model.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s not from a bottle, is it?”

  “What?”

  “The red. Your hair.”

  “No. Why do you ask?” She was walking faster now, but he was matching her stride, her on one side of the fence, him on the other. A wall of wood between them, instant communication on her hip, Ben somewhere nearby, so why was her heart beating like the drums in a hard rock recording?

  “I like natural stuff,” he answered. “You know, women who don’t try to gussy up too much, fool men into thinking they’re something they’re not. Funny, but fake comes through in a photograph easier than it does in real life. Maybe because everything stops in a picture, suspended in time, forever. The image is still there even when the people are gone.”

  A door slammed, and Jodie looked to the house. Ray was there on the porch, watching her. She looked back to Greg Johnson, but the fence line was deserted. Her visitor had disappeared as quickly as he’d materialized.

  Ray walked toward her, his unbuttoned suit jacket swinging with the rhythm of his gait, his tie already loosened and pulled away from his neck. Tall, familiar and confident. She took a deep and thankful breath. He had never looked better in his life.

  HE YANKED THE TAB on the can of cola and took a long swig, letting the liquid roll down his throat. The last taste of powdery pills washed down with the cola. The medicine controlled the impulses that drove him, buried them beneath a thin layer of sanity. At least it was supposed to. But sometimes the feelings hit too hard, like a boxer delivering the killer blow. When that happened, the pills were useless.

  He’d been on the verge of that yesterday, and it had made him make a costly mistake. He shouldn’t have used Max Roling’s credit card. Cops didn’t worry about one woman with an admirer who didn’t quite play by the rules. Murder was di
fferent.

  But the impulses had taken over, and he had picked up the phone and ordered the flowers. The mistake had left him no alternative but to go to the florist shop last night. Destroy the order form with the card number and name so no one would be the wiser. And he’d done just that, though the fool woman had complicated matters, walking in seconds before he’d have been out the door.

  He would have killed her to keep her quiet, if he hadn’t been sure she was going to die anyway. A nice, natural heart attack, just like the others. Only this time, he wouldn’t have had to waste his precious resources.

  But the old broad was tough. Still, he was sure she couldn’t have gotten a good look at him in the dark. At least, he was almost sure.

  He took another long drag on the soda. Whiskey would have been better, but the pills didn’t mix well with alcohol, and he had to stay focused, especially now.

  Lay low. Just a man doing his job. He’d fooled everybody for years, and he would do it again. It was easy when he stayed focused, when he was the one in control. Amazingly easy.

  He finished the drink and crushed the can between his fingers.

  Jodie was a good girl, not like the others. Only a man was sleeping in her house. If he ever found out the two of them had been together…

  Then it would be all over. For both of them. Even if the man wasn’t defiling Jodie, it would be over soon, one way or another. It was time for him to make his move.

  Chapter Six

  Three days had passed since the arrival of the yellow roses. The cops had no news, police checks into the background of Selda’s tenant had turned up zero and Gloria Bigger remembered nothing. Everything was back to the way it had been a few weeks ago except now Jodie was in Natchitoches instead of New York, waiting for the next horror to drop into her life.

  “You’re playing instead of eating,” she said, picking up the spoon herself and coaxing Blair to open his mouth. Instead, his hand flew into the offering, sending the tiny green peas scattering across his tray.

  Ray picked that opportune time to stroll into the kitchen. “Say, aren’t you supposed to put the food in their mouths?”

  “Very funny.”

  Not to be outdone, Blake put his lips together and blew, demonstrating a new noise he’d perfected in the last couple of days. Drool bubbled from his mouth and rolled down his chin as he banged his hands on the tray of his high chair.

  “That’s telling him, Blake,” she said, pushing a slice of cooked carrot in front of him. “Now, open up and try this.” He closed his lips tight.

  “Can’t say I blame you, Blake. I’d hold out for pizza.” Ray walked to the kitchen counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Do you want a cup?” he asked, lifting his in Jodie’s direction.

  “No, I have my hands full right now. And after this it’s bath time.”

  “It’s a good thing. Either that or you’ll need to hose them down.” He dropped into the chair closest to hers. “How did you learn to do this mothering stuff? Do babies come with some secret set of instructions for parents only?”

  “Trial and error.” She gave up on the carrots and went back to the peas and baby food chicken. “Mostly error. Although, fortunately, there are lots of good books on raising children.”

  “You must have read them all when you found out you were getting double trouble.”

  She kept working, suddenly aware that Ray was watching her every movement. He was asking questions, but she was sure he didn’t want truthful answers. “I panicked at first, but the idea grew on me.”

  “You do a good job. I’ve known women who couldn’t handle one, and you take care of two like it was fun and games.”

  “It is fun. It’s also lots of work.”

  “And no pay.”

  “Wrong.” Blair stuck his finger out, reaching for her face, his own brand of intimacy. He touched her lips and she kissed his sticky fingertips. “I’ve never had this kind of reward from anything else I’ve ever done.”

  “Then, I’d say those are two very lucky kids.”

  “I’m the fortunate one, Ray. I can’t imagine life without them.” And he was the unlucky one. Except he had everything he’d ever said he wanted. He’d left Natchitoches behind and made it big in a city where the lights never dimmed and the party never stopped.

  He talked a good story, but here he was back in town, helping his father out in an emergency and risking his life to protect hers. That reeked of responsibility. Maybe she’d misjudged him. Maybe he’d misjudged himself.

  “You look worried. You’re not thinking about Selda’s new tenant again, are you?” he asked, scooting his chair out of the line of fire of a pea that shot from Blair’s spoon.

  “No. I was thinking that I could use some help bathing the boys. What are you doing for the next half hour?”

  His face screwed into perplexed wrinkles, and his fingers circled the near empty mug nervously. He tilted his mug high, drinking the last drops of the coffee as if it had some power to save him from her impossible request. When he set it back on the table, the clacking of pottery on wood filled the room.

  “Okay,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “I’m game. But remember, I’m a novice at this.”

  Jodie felt tight fingers of anxiety circling her heart. What had she been thinking? Surely not that exposure to parenting would change Ray Kostner.

  “Everyone’s a novice the first time.” She wiped a layer of sticky dinner remains from Blair’s face. “And only the tough survive.”

  “You make this sound like some kind of test.”

  “Do I?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Ray got up from his chair and walked over to stand beside her, the cocky half smile he’d perfected to irresistible levels, splitting his lips. He took Blair from her arms, his hands brushing her breasts in the process, an innocent touch that took her breath away.

  “Why would I give you a test?” she asked, her voice catching on the question.

  “I don’t know. Maybe because you know I can’t resist a challenge. Maybe you just want to see if I’m the coward around babies I told you I am.” He turned his back before she had a chance to think of a worthy response.

  She followed him up the stairs to the bathroom, a wriggling Blake tucked under her arms. Bath time with Ray Kostner. She had to be losing her mind. To him this was a new game, one you could leave behind when something more exciting came along. And she’d be left to deal with more painful memories.

  Minutes later, the boys were naked and fastened into bath safety seats that kept them from climbing and falling in the slippery water. One child she might have handled without the seats. Two left her seriously shorthanded.

  “Hey, this isn’t so bad.” Ray scooted a toy boat across the water, making putt-putt noises as the boys laughed and splashed.

  Jodie soaped a soft baby cloth and handed it to him. “Then you’re ready to advance to the actual cleaning stage.”

  Ray took the soapy cloth. “What do I do with this?”

  “You scrub. Just pretend Blair’s your Porsche and you’re taking off a little road dust.”

  “You mean I have to treat this splash machine like he’s gold?”

  This time she splashed him. “He’s a lot more valuable than that mass of metal and chrome you drive.”

  Ray flicked a stream of water in her direction. “Your mother’s vicious,” he teased, dabbing Blair’s stomach with the soapy cloth. “But I’ll pay her back later.”

  “I’m really worried. A man who can’t handle bathing a small boy is no match for me.”

  “What do you mean, can’t handle the job? We’re doing just fine. Tell her, big boy.”

  “I don’t know about the Porsche, but dabbing gently at a few exposed parts doesn’t get it with little boys.” She demonstrated the correct process, wiping Blake’s face, getting the ears and under both chins while he tugged at the cloth and tried to wriggle out of her grasp. “You have to leave no spot untouched.”

  “No spot untouched, uh?
” Ray’s voice fell to a husky drawl.

  His gaze raked across her, from the tip of her disheveled hair, down her water-splattered blouse to settle on her jeaned bottom that stuck out behind her as she knelt on the bath rug. Awareness sizzled inside her, and she wrung the cloth in her hands into a tight wad.

  “Maybe we should try the bath routine again later, when the boys are in bed. I’ll soap, you rinse.”

  Desire rose up inside her, sweet and choking. She pulled away. It was crazy to think like this. She had too much at stake here to let Ray take control of her feelings, building fires when he had no intention of staying around long enough to keep them burning.

  If she let him, this would be New York all over again. Fun and games, only then it had been sans babies. They had laughed and played and made love in every corner of her tiny apartment. When the week was over, he had walked away without a backward glance. And she had been left with new life inside her, growing just beneath her breaking heart.

  Blair splashed his hands across the surface of the water, and a spray of soap bubbles flew up and landed on the front of Jodie’s blouse. Ray ran his fingers across the bubbles, scraping off a fluffy pile and flipping them back into the tub. The circle of dampness left by the dissolving bubbles gave her away. Her right nipple was hard and erect pushing at the lacy fabric of her bra and blouse.

  He dabbed at the pinkish outline, massaging with the corner of a hand towel he’d dipped into the tub. The bathwater was only comfortably warm, but invisible steam rose between. Ray leaned closer, his eyes smoky with desire, his lips inches from hers.

  When they touched, her breath rushed from her body, leaving her too weak, too dizzy to think. A shower of splashing water from Blake’s hands hit her just in time. She lunged past Ray and grabbed a towel.

  “They’re clean enough,” she said, her voice low and shaky.

  “Too bad. I was just beginning to enjoy this.”

  “Good.” Bending low to extract Blake from his seat, she lifted his dripping body and handed him to Ray. “If you like bath time, you’ll love slipping these wriggling arms and legs into pajamas.”