For the Right Reasons Read online

  “The jury’s still out. But right now you’re more devil than angel.”

  “Is that so?” She leaned down and kissed him, and her hair fell in a dark curtain around their faces.

  He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, wishing he’d never have to let her go. It felt so incredible to just stop thinking and feel for a change. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t actively worried about something. But with his mind and his senses so full of Bree, there was no room for worry.

  He wasn’t even worried about his performance. It didn’t matter how long he’d been celibate; his instincts took over. Every touch, every caress, came naturally to him. Their lovemaking was a graceful dance—no fumbling, no rushing. It was like eating an ice-cream sundae, savoring each bite, but a whole lot better.

  They switched positions, and he spent several minutes just kissing her amazing breasts and listening to her breath quicken. Sometimes she made little noises of surprise when he playfully nipped her, or sighed softly when he gently sucked one nipple to an excited peak.

  As he ran his hands over her flat abdomen, he noticed something that gave him pause: stretch marks. They were faint but undeniable. He was familiar with stretch marks because Tammy had sported a few after giving birth to MacKenzie.

  So Bree had a child? Hadn’t she told him she had no kids that night at the diner?

  “Hey. Where’d you go?”

  He realized he’d gone still. “Sorry. I was just...taking it all in. You’re so beautiful it’s overwhelming.”

  “I’m past the point of needing pretty words,” she said meaningfully. “I need more. I need all of you.”

  Need was the right word. He needed her just as badly. Kissing, licking, stroking—all were good but not enough. He needed to possess her.

  There was no awkward fumbling, no second-guessing. She grabbed the condom package from where he’d dropped it near the pillow, opened it and sheathed him with no fuss. She didn’t tease him, just opened her legs and welcomed him inside the safe harbor of her body.

  They fit together well, and the sensations were novel and familiar at the same time, as if they had done this before.

  Everything just felt right.

  “Oh, this is good,” she said with some surprise in her voice.

  “You thought it was going to be lousy?”

  “Of course not. I just didn’t imagine...” She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “I didn’t imagine it would feel so right.”

  A chill wiggled its way up Eric’s spine. Bree had read his mind. Talk about two people being on the same page.

  Bree wiggled, adjusting their bodies to a slightly different angle. The movement was subtle, but it sent a surge of pleasure coursing through Eric’s whole body. If he wasn’t careful, this was going to end way too soon. He bit his own lip until he was sure he had complete control again.

  Ice cubes. Freezing showers. Ah, better.

  They started moving, slowly at first, savoring each sensation, each degree of friction. But soon that wasn’t enough, and the dance accelerated until he was pounding into her hard and fast. She gripped his biceps, her blunt nails digging into his flesh as she whispered a frantic “yes, yes, yes.”

  Then he finally crested the top of the roller coaster. One breathless moment poised at the top, then he was plummeting down at the speed of sound and holding on to only enough sanity that he didn’t scream.

  He was panting like an Olympic sprinter by the time it was over, and Bree was laughing with tears in her eyes.

  “Holy cow,” she said.

  He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him, laughing with her. How long had it been since he’d found something funny or delightful enough to provoke such a reaction? His laughter sounded rusty.

  “‘Holy cow’?” he said when he found his words. “That’s the best you can do?”

  “Let me think on it. I’m sure I can do better. But my brain is all full of...hormones and stuff.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything more. I think we’re in agreement.”

  “No, no, wait, it’s coming to me. Euphoric. It was eu—”

  A scream from across the hall cut her off.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ERIC WAS OUT of bed as though someone had put him into fast-forward. He jumped into his pants and threw open his door, then MacKenzie’s door.

  “Daddy!” She held out her arms to him. He sat down on the bed and pulled her against him.

  “What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

  “I had a bad dream.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” He caught his breath as relief poured over him like hot fudge. “Dreams can be scary.” Especially when you have a fever, which MacKenzie definitely did. He could feel heat radiating from her little body.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Eric looked up to see Bree standing in the doorway, dressed, more or less. She was barefoot, but at least she had on a shirt and pants. “Bad dream,” Eric said. “I think her fever’s up.”

  “Maybe we should try some ibuprofen. MacKenzie, sweetie, how does your tummy feel?”

  “Okay.”

  “If you go through the master bedroom and into the bathroom,” Eric said to Bree, “you’ll find a medicine cabinet with children’s ibuprofen.”

  Bree left the room and Eric continued to comfort his daughter. “You want to tell me about the dream?”

  “There was a bad man. He had a knife.”

  Oh, God. Why couldn’t she dream about monsters under the bed, like other kids? He’d been worried about this moment ever since Tammy’s murder. She had always said that she didn’t remember what happened that day, couldn’t recall seeing anything. Her therapist had warned Eric that she might have repressed memories of the event and that she could start remembering at any time—or not at all.

  “It was just a dream,” Eric said. “He can’t hurt you.”

  “He was all bloody,” MacKenzie said.

  “Was the man someone you know?” Eric asked, disturbed by the graphic nature of the dream.

  “I don’t know.” She sobbed, and he realized he shouldn’t have asked her that question. He wanted to know whether she’d actually witnessed the murder, but not at the expense of encouraging her to dwell on the unpleasant dream.

  “It’s okay. Stupid question. Just try to forget about it, okay?”

  Bree returned with two bottles—one of children’s ibuprofen and a green bottle he didn’t readily recognize. “I brought her something to reduce her fever, and this stomach medicine, in case her tummy gets upset again.”

  “I don’t want any more medicine,” MacKenzie said.

  “Ah, but the pills are orange flavored,” Bree said. “And the other medicine is cherry flavored.”

  “I’ll go get a cool washcloth,” Eric said. And he would put on a shirt and hope that MacKenzie wouldn’t ask too many questions about why her father was parading around half naked with “Dr. Bree.”

  * * *

  BREE DOLED OUT first the orange tablets, then the antinausea medicine. This was good stuff—she remembered her own mother dosing her with it when Bree was a little girl.

  MacKenzie took the pills and liquid with no further complaint.

  “You had a bad dream?”

  “Uh-huh. There was a bad man with a knife and he was chasing me.”

  “Oh, no wonder you were scared. But you know what I do when I have a bad dream? I change the way I remember it. Like, I had an awful dream about a week ago where I wrecked my car. So I thought about the dream, and I went through it second by second like a movie in slow motion. And when it got to the part where I hit the other car, I swerved and slammed on my brakes.” She acted out driving and swerving. “And I didn’t hit the other car. And then I just pretended that was
the dream.”

  She seemed to digest Bree’s suggestion.

  “It’s still scary.”

  “Well, sure it is. I’d be scared, too. But when I feel scared, I just remember that I’m strong. And you’re strong, too. You’ve been through a lot—losing your mommy, having your daddy in jail, but you survived it. So when you’re scared, you just remember that whatever it is that’s scaring you—whether it’s a dream or the dark or a mean person—you tell yourself you’re strong, and you’re smart, and you’re gonna be just fine. It’s like going through a tunnel. It’s dark inside, but you always know you’ll come out on the other side. You just have to hold on and be strong and brave. You understand?”

  MacKenzie nodded.

  Bree wasn’t sure if what she said made any sense at all. But she encountered a lot of frightened children in her line of work—scared, in pain. She found that a lot of them just wanted someone to take an interest in their feelings. She could stitch their cuts and set their broken bones, but trauma went deeper than that. A car accident or a fall or an assault, especially to an impressionable child, could be a shadow that hung over them for life. She liked to think that she at least started those fragile minds on the road to emotional healing.

  “Can I have some soda?” MacKenzie asked.

  “Ah, I see the crisis is being defused, if she’s asking for soda.”

  Bree moved aside and let Eric sit beside his daughter. “Lie back, honey, and let me put this cool washcloth on your head. It’ll feel nice. And I’ll bring you a soda in just a bit.”

  She did as he asked. Eric fluffed the little girl’s pillow and smoothed the covers over her, then tenderly placed the damp washcloth against her forehead.

  “Do you feel better?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  “You want me to bring Elena’s tablet in here, and you can watch Muppets?”

  Again she nodded, and a small smile found its way onto her face.

  Something happened to Bree’s heart. It felt suddenly heavy, then light as if it were going to float out of her chest. There was something so special about a father’s love for his child. It moved Bree every time she saw it, but especially with this father and daughter, who had been through so much. Seeing how they carried on, it was easy for her to believe that love could conquer all.

  It hadn’t worked that way for her and Kelly. Their love hadn’t been strong enough to withstand what fate had dished out. Maybe she didn’t have what it took to form a lasting pair bond. Her mother had always said she was too selfish, too focused on her own interests, to be a good wife.

  Her growing feelings for Eric weren’t a healthy development. Even if she were a good candidate for a lasting relationship, Eric wasn’t in the right place. He’d been out of prison less than two months. He was just getting to know his daughter again. No one should interfere with that.

  “Eric, I think maybe I should go.”

  Eric turned abruptly to face her. “What? No.”

  “I think we overreacted to the news about the tire tracks,” she said sensibly. “There must be dozens or hundreds of Range Rovers out there. Or maybe the sheriff was there for some perfectly legitimate reason. It’s possible he spotted the car before we told him about it and chose not to reveal that. He might have pulled up behind it to run the license plate.”

  “But why take a chance?”

  “What am I supposed to do, stay in a hotel?”

  “Don’t you have a friend you could stay with?”

  Sadly, she didn’t. She had work friends and lots of acquaintances in Tuckerville. But no one she would impose on. She shook her head. “Even if there was someone, if the sheriff wanted to find me, he could. The town is not that big.”

  “Then stay in a hotel. Although it would be easier for you to just stay here.” As the objection was about to leave her lips, Eric rushed on. “You could sleep on the sofa, if you’re worried about Trav and Elena asking too many questions.”

  “Daddy.” MacKenzie tugged on his sleeve. “You said Muppets.”

  “I’ll get the tablet.”

  While Eric got his daughter set up watching what was apparently her favorite movie, streaming from the internet, Bree hardened her resolve. She never should have gotten Eric involved in this, even if he was the only person who had ever listened to her. What if her plan backfired? What if Kelly and Eric argued during their visit?

  With MacKenzie’s attention firmly locked on the tablet, which she had propped up against her knees, Eric took Bree’s elbow and gently guided her out of the room, closing the door.

  “Now, what’s this about leaving?”

  “I’m intruding. I’m even having second thoughts about you visiting Kelly.”

  “Because you’re afraid I’m right about him.”

  “You’re not. But maybe...maybe I should take a step back and let the police handle the investigation into Philomene’s disappearance. If they drop the ball, I can rethink the decision—”

  “You’ve already decided? Just like that?”

  “No, I’ve been mulling it over.”

  “But...was it because...?” He nodded toward his bedroom door. “Because that shouldn’t change anything.”

  “It changes everything.” She headed for the stairs with Eric right behind her.

  “You think it was a mistake?” He sounded insulted. Maybe even slightly outraged.

  “I think it wasn’t very smart. I was feeling vulnerable. I was grateful you agreed to talk to Kelly—”

  “Yet now you don’t want me to. You’re not making sense.”

  She stopped in the middle of the living room, not sure where she’d been heading or what she wanted to do.

  “You want to pretend it never happened?” Eric asked, challenging her.

  “How can we?” Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes, hot and insistent. She didn’t want to cry. “I’m just going to go home. And work. I’ll be careful. My apartment building is very secure. I’ll be fine.”

  She went to the kitchen and found her purse, digging through it until her hand wrapped around her keys.

  “I feel a little used.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. Most men were more than happy to have sex with no strings. But Eric wasn’t most men, she reminded herself.

  She turned to face him, to face up to her actions. “I didn’t mean for it to be that way. We got caught up in the moment, that’s all. I didn’t think you wanted any entanglements.”

  “I’m not sure I do. I’m a little confused myself. But that doesn’t mean I want you to walk out that door, out of my life, right this second.”

  “What do you want, then?”

  “I want to finish what we started. I want to find out what happened to Philomene. And if there’s a criminal posing as sheriff of Becker County, I want to remedy the situation. I want to make sure no one is coming after you.”

  “It’s not even your fight.”

  “Um, news flash—you made it my fight.”

  “So do you still want to talk to Kelly? By your way of thinking, it’s not related. And despite what I said, I don’t want to hold your feet to the fire. I won’t call Daniel. And you can do what you want.”

  “I said I’d talk to him, and I will. What do I have to be afraid of?”

  * * *

  SUNDAY DAWNED BRIGHT, cool and clear, a perfect winter day. Eric was driving through the countryside with a beautiful woman in the passenger seat. Life should have been great. Except for the fact that the woman hadn’t uttered a single word to him in the past fifty miles.

  It didn’t seem as if she was angry; she just seemed determined not to speak to him. Even when he tried to engage her, asking direct questions, she answered with monosyllables or by shaking or nodding her head. Her gaze remained firmly fo
cused out the window, never at him.

  He felt as though he’d done something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. He hadn’t coerced her into bed, hadn’t even wheedled her there. He thought the decision had been a mutual one. The experience had blown his mind, yes, but it seemed to have thrown Bree for a real loop. He thought he was the one with issues.

  He should just be grateful she hadn’t called Daniel and leave it at that. But like it or not, he was involved in this mess for the duration. Today he was going to face the man who had nearly killed him.

  Eric was curious to see how Kelly and Bree would interact. She had emphasized that their love affair had been over years ago, and all that remained was an abiding friendship. But he had always been suspicious of friendships between men and women. True, he considered Elena a friend, and he was getting to know and appreciate a number of women at work—he admired their minds, their passion, and he enjoyed their company without feeling a particular sexual pull. Maybe this was a state of being that came with maturity.

  But Kelly and Bree—the thought of those two together turned his stomach. Eric had a hard time overlooking Bree’s former intimacy with that cretin. How could she have been attracted to someone like Kelly, then someone like him? Did she have a thing for bad boys, and the fact that Eric had served time, even if the conviction had been overturned, put him in that category? Or had it, in fact, turned him into someone who was, if not bad, at least not as good as he should be? Someone filled with rage, someone who lied, someone who resorted to physical violence?

  Suzy the GPS told them they had arrived at Huntsville Prison. But Bree directed them to a different entrance, and he followed her directions, gratified to at least hear her voice.

  The guard at the gate checked their names against a list, then carefully scrutinized their IDs before allowing them access to the parking lot. He handed them a list of rules, which Bree set aside without looking. Clearly she knew them all by heart.

  At his questioning look, she shrugged. “You’re not wearing open-toed shoes or a short skirt, are you? Planning to bring any cigarette lighters or sharp metal objects into the visiting room?”