Chapter Sixteen

By the time they turned onto Evan's street it was nine thirty. Between the moonglow and the development's streetlights, Marlie could just make out his stern profile. Tension had radiated off him since the moment they'd left his parents' house. Now it was worse, like a viable thing she could feel in the air.

Something bad had happened. He hadn't told her what, but there'd been a sense of urgency in the way he'd raced to the FBI office. Refusing to leave her and Noah alone at his house, he'd insisted they come with him. For the last four hours, they'd waited in a conference room, eating take-out sandwiches for dinner and watching TV while Evan met with his colleagues behind closed doors.

He headed into the garage, and Marlie leaned into the back seat to give Noah a gentle shake. "Wake up." His head rested on the meaty part of Blue's haunch. "We're home." She winced inwardly. This wasn't her home, and it wasn't Noah's. Frankly, she didn't know where home was anymore.

He yawned and stretched. When Evan opened the rear door, Blue hopped out, and Noah's head hit the seat. "I'm awake, I'm awake."

As the garage door closed behind them, they went to the inner door that led to the dining room. Evan frowned at the keypad on the wall.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Probably nothing. I could swear I set the alarm before we left." Slowly, he pushed open the door. With his other hand, he pushed back his overshirt, exposing the holstered gun on his belt.

Until that moment, she hadn't realized he'd even been armed.

The door closed behind them. "Wait here by the piano while I check things out."

Blue took the lead as they went around the corner. Evan flipped on lights as they went from room to room on the main floor, then headed down the stairs to the basement.

"I'm tired," Noah said, yawning again. "I wanna go to bed."

"In a minute." Marlie peered into the great room. Everything looked the same as when they'd left. Every dish she'd washed from lunch was either in the dishwasher or drying in the rack. The TV was off, and the living room blinds were open, revealing the shadowy foothills in the distance.

She wrapped an arm around Noah's shoulder, darting her gaze around the spacious ground floor, as if someone really might jump out from a shadow.

Blue padded up the stairs, followed by Evan. "Everything's fine. I must have forgotten to set the alarm. You both should hit the sack. I want to leave for Wyoming by nine."

"Good night, then," she said, urging Noah to the stairs. Ridiculously, the impulse to kiss Evan goodnight shot through her. She understood why he'd broken off their pool-table kiss so abruptly, yet it bothered her that he acted like it never happened.

Did she want it to happen again? If she were honest with herself, she didn't know.

Five minutes later, Noah crawled into bed in his brand-new pajamas. Blue hopped on the bed and lay down.

"Down, Blue." She motioned with her arm, but when Noah turned on his side and laid his arm on the dog's belly, she stopped. Dogs could be just as therapeutic as a good therapist. If he kept Noah from tossing and turning all night, she'd let him stay.

She flipped off the lights and headed back upstairs. Evan sat on the sofa, his back to her as he leaned over, scrolling through images on his laptop.

Quietly, she went into her bedroom. Not her bedroom, the guest bedroom. While changing into the purple nightgown and a matching robe, Marlie thought about Evan's parents. It was obvious they were still grieving. As difficult as it was for Evan to find anything positive in these birthday celebrations, it was also obvious he did it for them.

She headed for the bathroom but couldn't resist another look at Evan. He still sat on the sofa, rolling his head left, then right. What he needed was a good neck and shoulder massage. She took a step toward him but stopped as apprehension raced up her spine because…

God help her, she wanted to touch him. Needed to touch him. Maybe more than that, but her hormones had been on vacation for so long she wouldn't know one if it slapped her in the face.

Physically, Evan was everything a woman could want in a man. Sinfully handsome, with strong, chiseled features and a body like an action hero, but there was so much more to him. Emotionally, he called to her soul.

Maybe she was only imagining there was something between them. Regardless, it was time to start living again and find out.

The robe swished around her legs as she padded to the sofa. When she rested her hands on Evan's shoulders, he stiffened but made no move to get up. At first, his muscles were so taut it was like trying to massage a hard rubber ball. Heat from his body seeped into her fingers, and after a few minutes, she felt his muscles relax.

"That feels nice." His voice was a low rumble.

She moved to the base of his neck, applying pressure with her fingertips there and just into his hairline. His hair was thicker and softer than she thought it would be. "You're so tense. You need this." So did she.

"In that case, you're hired." He chuckled, another low rumble that traveled to her fingers and sent a shiver through her body. "You have talented fingers."

He clasped her hand, tugging it so it rested on his pec. His heart beat out a steady rhythm, and she spread her fingers wider, trying to feel as much of his chest as she possibly could.

He shifted to look at her. "Sit with me." The words were more of an order, but the look he gave her was definitely a question.

"Okay." She rounded the sofa and sat beside him. Not too close, but close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his body and make her heart beat a scooch faster.

He'd rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, revealing the sinewy muscles. A crystal tumbler with a quarter inch of amber liquid sat on the table beside a bottle of Breckenridge Bourbon. "Want some?"

"Sure." Anything to calm her racing heart.

"I'll get you a glass."

"Your glass is fine. If you don't mind, that is. I don't really want much." Only enough to give her a little liquid courage. She put the glass to her lips, inhaling the creamy sweet aromas of butterscotch and oranges. Over the rim, she watched his eyes dip briefly to her mouth as she sipped, then swallowed. A touch of vanilla and brown sugar lingered on her tongue, and a soothing warmth bloomed in her chest as the spicy liquid trickled down her throat. She nodded to the laptop. "What's got you working so late? Don't we have to get up pretty early?"

He nodded. "We do, but…" He closed his eyes, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Another boy was reported missing."

"Oh, no." No wonder he'd been so distracted since leaving his parents' house. "Do you think this has something to do with Frank Manello?"

"Don't know for sure. Kids run away for all kinds of reasons, but the timing isn't good."

"How old is he?"

"Eleven. He's from Aurora. A year ago, the father lost his job and hasn't found steady work since then. The parents have been fighting a lot, and the father's been coming home drunk every night. The boy started running away, but he always came home a few hours later. Yesterday, he didn't."

"Did they use Frank Manello's pool cleaning service?"

"No, but we think he recruits kids other ways, too. With him still out there, who knows." He shook his head, staring out the window into the darkness.

"And the missing boy is eleven, like Noah." She also had a bad feeling about this boy's disappearance. "Noah said Frank was in a hurry to get more kids. Do you think the missing boy is a replacement for Noah?"

"Maybe." He shook his head. "Hell, I don't know."

"And you're worried more kids will go missing." He was taking this case personally. Maybe that was normal for someone in his position, yet she'd never shaken the feeling there was more to it. "No matter what happens, you can't blame yourself. You can't take it too personally." Or it would suck the life out of him.

"Deck went with the Aurora PD to interview the parents. They think they should have seen this coming." He took the glass from her and took a hefty swallow. "My parents went through the same thing. They always felt they should have seen it coming, and that they're to blame for Gracie running away."

"Why do they think they're to blame?"

The distant look in his eyes was one of remembrance. "My sister and I were twins, but we were as different as night and day." He smiled briefly.

"That's normal for twins, even identical twins. They might look the same on the outside, but up here"—she pointed to her head —"they're unique in every way."

"Those differences were tough on my parents." He made a mirthless laugh. "I was a jock. Sports came easily to me, like it did with my dad. I did well in school, got good grades. Gracie was different." This time, his smile was real, leaving her to believe he'd been close with his twin. "When it came to sports, she was as coordinated as a giraffe on ice. The only thing she ever beat me at was hide-and-seek. When she didn't want to be found, nobody could find her. Her mind was more attuned to art and music than sports and getting A's. She loved painting and playing the piano. She even taught me how to play. We had to do that behind my father's back."

"Why? I'd think a skill like playing the piano would be great for a kid."

"Not to my dad." He shook his head. "At least, not back then. He was a colonel in the Air Force, all rules and regulations. He wanted us to study hard, get good grades and sports scholarships. He never understood Gracie wasn't wired that way. So they argued. A lot. And my mom was passive about it. That's what led to Gracie becoming a habitual runaway. Whenever the arguments escalated, she bolted, but she always came back."

"I'm guessing after Gracie disappeared," Marlie said, easily seeing where this was going, "your dad blamed himself for not accepting her for who and what she was, and your mom blamed herself for not standing up for her."

"You nailed it." He nodded sadly. "The Amazing Grace Foundation is their way of making up for their mistakes. Or trying to. Since then, they've helped a lot of kids. Most who walked in the door stayed until they reunited with their family or child services found them foster families. Only a few left and never came back."

"I read the Foundation brochure. They've done a wonderful job making a safe place for kids." According to the brochure, the Amazing Grace Foundation had been established over twenty years ago. "Your parents are special people for doing what they do." If only she could have taken a page from their book.

"They are." He uncapped the bourbon and poured another inch into the glass. "So are the Wilsons. Gracie used to babysit for their daughter, Jenny. Whenever Gracie ran away, we could usually find her at their house." He took a sip before handing her the glass.

A lump of selfish guilt clogged her throat as she recalled how dysfunctional she'd been in the years following Aiden's death. "I admire what your parents have done. I never had the strength to channel my grief into something productive." The room had turned cold, and a shiver ran through her. "I wish I'd been stronger."

He tugged a blanket from the edge of the sofa. As he draped it around her shoulders, his fingers grazed her neck. She shivered again but not from the cold. This time it was from the undeniable arousal of his touch.

"You're not weak. Don't ever think that. I've seen people deal with the loss of a child many times. Everyone handles it differently. Including me." He took a deep breath and shoved a hand through his hair. "All these years, my parents blamed themselves for Gracie running away. In the end, it was my fault."

" Your fault? How could it possibly have been your fault? You were twelve at the time."

He snorted, shaking his head. "The last time I saw her, I was playing ball with my friends. She and my dad had just gotten into a raging argument, so she didn't want to go home. She wanted to hang out with us, but my friends knew she wasn't good at sports. Nobody wanted her on their team." He clenched his jaw so tightly white lines fanned the corners of his mouth. "I should have stood up for her. I didn't. She stormed off, and that was the last I ever saw of her."

"No, Evan. No." She scooted closer until her thigh pressed against his. "You can't blame yourself. She didn't run away because of what happened. If she hadn't run off that day, she would have done it the next day or the next. You know that."

"I keep reliving that moment again and again, wondering if things would have been different if I'd only let her stay." He threw back the contents of the glass, then set it on the table with a resounding whack. "I'm a goddamn coward."

He had to be kidding. "The awful people you deal with every day…the danger you put yourself in is incomprehensible, hardly the actions of a coward." Gently, she stroked his face, the stubbly shadow on his chin prickling her fingers. "You were just a boy then." As the boy he'd been all those years ago, the man he was now was still wounded, hurting inside, and grieving like his sister had disappeared only yesterday.

She leaned in to his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. For a moment, he did nothing, said nothing. With a groaning sigh, he slid his hands to her back. Warm breath fanned her face.

"You are not to blame," she whispered, stroking the back of his head. And maybe she wasn't to blame as much as she'd been telling herself. She hadn't deserted Aiden. All she'd done was turn her head once, for only a few seconds. That was all it had taken, but she wasn't to blame. Not really. The animal who'd taken her son was, and perhaps it was time she stopped torturing herself quite so much.

"Marlie."

Their faces were so close she could see silver shards glittering in his eyes. Then his lips grazed hers, softly at first, then with more pressure.

He pulled her onto his lap, cradling her head in the crook of his arm as he deepened the kiss. When their tongues touched, it was like fire and ice went to war. Heat seared her from the inside out, while icy shivers raced over every inch of her skin.

She sifted her fingers through his hair, trying to pull him closer, his lips more firmly against hers and his tongue deeper inside her mouth. God, he tasted so good, felt so good to her intimacy-deprived body. She was like a plant in the desert, one on the verge of shriveling and dying from lack of water, and she couldn't drink fast enough. When he pulled back, she practically groaned out loud.

"Is Noah asleep?" he asked, dropping kisses on her face and nuzzling her cheek.

"Uh-huh," she mumbled, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back to give him better access to the sensitive part of her neck. "Blue's with him."

"Good." His hand skimmed the side of her ribcage. When his thumb touched the curve of her breast, she snapped open her eyes to find him watching her intently, questioningly, and he was asking a question.

Did she want to make love with him? Even if it turned out to be just sex, did she?

Yes.

He must have interpreted her hesitation as a "no," because he dropped his hand. She locked her fingers around his wrist and pressed his hand fully on her breast. This time there would be no misinterpretation.

She wanted him, and he wanted her. There was no doubting that, either. Not judging by his hard length beneath her legs.

He took her mouth in a searing kiss, parting her lips and thrusting his tongue inside to dance with hers. In one swift motion, he picked her up, carrying her to his bedroom, which she had yet to see.

Against her cheek, his heart thudded hard and fast. There was no need to put a hand to her own chest to know her heart was racing like a thoroughbred down the homestretch.

He kicked the door shut behind them, flipping on the lights with his elbow. He set her on her feet. This time, the kiss was gentle, sweet, and slow.

With his thumb and forefinger, he tipped up her chin. "Are you sure about this?"

"Shh." She touched her finger to his lips, moved by his question. Somehow, he knew she hadn't had sex since her world imploded, and he was giving her the chance to back out. "Thank you for asking."

"My pleasure." He sucked her finger into his mouth.

Oh my.

Her belly quivered like a half-set batch of strawberry jelly. And was that moisture between her legs? Her nipples tightened, straining against her robe. She wanted his lips wrapped around them, his hot, wet mouth sucking and pulling them between his teeth.

He tugged on the belt of her robe and slipped it off. The heat took that moment to kick on, whirring and sending a blast of warm air into the room and over her bare shoulders.

Evan lifted the thin straps, letting the nightie slither down her body. His fingers followed the path of the garment, skimming along her arms and leaving a sizzling trail of sparks on her skin. If this was how her body reacted to such a light touch, she could only imagine what would happen when they actually made love. Part of her brain worried her body wouldn't remember how.

A low rumble, one of appreciation, she hoped, came from Evan's throat as he helped her nightie slide past her hips to the floor. He was not only stripping off her clothes but many of her insecurities. Standing before him wearing only her panties, she sent a silent "thank you" to the lingerie gods that she hadn't worn her most boring white cotton undies today. These were purple and matched her nightie and robe.

"Nice." He gave her a lopsided grin and a quick flash of white teeth. "I like purple."

"It's my favorite color." Gawd . Could she sound any dorkier?

"Now it's my favorite color, too. You should wear it more often. Or not." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slowly, teasingly, slipped her panties down her legs.

She nearly died from an overload of tingly desire as he began kissing his way up her calf to her inner thighs, leaving that same sizzling trail of sparks everywhere his lips touched. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he urged her to widen her stance. He nuzzled her curls, inhaling and flicking his tongue into her. She bucked and gasped at the jolt zinging to her core. A sound erupted from her throat. Had she really just whimpered? Yes, she had.

With one hand he gripped her buttocks, holding her firmly. He put his lips to her, sucking and licking, then slipped a finger inside her tight channel and began pumping slowly, in and out. As if it had a will of its own, her body rocked against his hand. If it weren't for him holding on to her ass, she would have buckled and fallen to the floor.

She could barely take in a breath through her nose. With every swipe of his amazing tongue, she breathed heavier, her breasts rising and falling faster. That part of her body hadn't been touched or aroused in any way—not even by her own hand—for over three years. She was so wet, so unbelievably sensitized, this would be over in seconds.

Her body tightened to the point of nearly cramping. As the shock waves started rolling through her, she shoved her hands into Evan's thick hair and let her head fall back, nearly crying out. Not wanting to wake Noah, whose room was directly beneath the master bedroom, she fisted a hand, holding it to her mouth and stifling her cry.

Evan had removed his finger, but his tongue still stroked her slick lips, moving in slower circles until the shock waves ceased rolling through her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Okay?" She laughed, the vibrations going straight to the place he'd just ignited into the most powerful orgasm she could ever recall having, and she flinched. "I haven't felt this good in…forever." That was the truth. She'd needed physical release more than she realized.

He stood and pulled back the duvet. Without warning, he picked her up and deposited her on the bed. "I'll be right back." He went into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar a few inches. Sounds of him shedding his clothes filtered into the bedroom, leaving her wondering what such a glorious body would look like completely devoid of clothes. A moment later she had her answer.

Magnificent.

His legs were long and muscular, with a light smattering of dark hair. Considering how broad his shoulders and chest were, his waist was trim, with chiseled abs that rippled and bunched as he went around the footboard to the other side of the bed.

He'd slid a condom over his impressively long and thick erection, leaving her wondering how he'd ever fit inside her channel. After all this time, it was probably as narrow as a test tube.

He pulled back the other side of the duvet and slid in next to her. "We'll take it slow," he said, as if reading her mind.

Holding his weight above her, he kissed her breasts, alternately sucking each nipple into his mouth until they were puckered, pebbled, and glistening. There had to be a live wire connecting her breasts to her core, because she found herself surging her hips against his, craving the contact and so much more.

Shifting, he spread her legs to accommodate him. The wide tip of his erection pressed against her slick entry. He captured her mouth in a deep kiss, entering her a fraction of an inch at a time, easing in incrementally deeper with each gentle thrust.

She gasped, arching against him, and he stopped moving.

"Okay?" Worry etched every chiseled plane and angle of his handsome face.

They hadn't talked about how long it had been for her, but he knew. He was being so patient and gentle, making her heart crack open just a little.

The last thing she wanted was for him to stop. She needed this. They both needed this. That's why he'd reached for her, and that's why she'd let him. She nodded, giving him a quick kiss to reassure him.

"Just breathe," he said, and when she did, he eased in a fraction more.

With every breath she took, he went deeper. The uncomfortable tightness she'd experienced only moments ago morphed into lovely, slick glides. Springy chest hairs brushed her nipples, sending tiny jolts directly to where their bodies were joined. She met his thrusts, faster and harder, yearning for more of how Evan made her feel.

Did she mean how her body felt? Or how she felt. About him .

The soft panting sounds were coming from her— actually panting . The orgasm built steadily, and she hooked her legs around the backs of Evan's thighs, relishing the escalating sensations and wanting them to go on forever.

A bright flash of white clouded her vision as the orgasm tore through her with so much force, she barely had time to clap a hand over her mouth before the high-pitched scream roared from her throat.

When she could see again, Evan held himself above her, his body as rigid as a knife. He sucked in air through gritted teeth, then threw his head back and groaned.

Still inside her, he lowered next to her, taking her in his arms. His chest rose and fell against hers. His heart beat rapidly at her breast. What they'd just done was a physical act driven by deep emotional wounds they both bore. In that moment, she felt sated and, dare she say, peaceful.

Content .

The past week had brought about changes she'd been resisting. Now she welcomed them. Like that plant in the desert getting its first drop of rain in months, her wilted emotions sparked to life, and she craved more. The question was whether Evan wanted more, too. It was both enticing and frightening.

Putting her grief behind her was the first step on the road to healing, and she was well on her way. That didn't mean Evan would ever be on that road with her. He was a deeply wounded man, and as much as she could see herself falling for him, his grief had been there for so long he might never get free of it. It might always be there, dragging him down.

She took a deep, fortifying breath.

No matter what happened next between them, she had to be strong and stay on her own path. If Evan couldn't find his way into the light, she had to be careful not to let him drag her down with him.

Back into the darkness.