Just a Front

Part 3

The next morning, it took Victoria only one look to see Carl had had a tough night.

"So," Vicky said, propping her feet on his immaculate coffee table. "What’s up? Rachel trouble?"

Calmly he laid out the night’s events from beginning to end. "She was shaken, but she wouldn’t let me stay with her at the mansion nor would she stay here," he added.

Vicky arched a professionally plucked brow. "You don’t believe her cockamamie story, do you?"

"Why shouldn’t I? Why would she fabricate such a thing?"

"You should know o’ wise one."

The subject of Rachel rarely reared its ugly head between them. Aside from the occasional spurt of social commentary, Rachel was a forbidden topic. Right now, Carl saw more than skepticism in Vic’s lovely eyes. He saw her customary unfathomable curiosity--Vicky had questions he was sure had nothing to do with murder.

He leaned back in his armchair, not quite willing to satisfy Victoria. "My dear, I can barely describe Rachel’s behavior when she appeared on my doorstep."

"That’s just it Carl—on your doorstep. Why not one of her friends or – gasp! - the nearest precinct. She ran all the way here, probably in those stilts she calls shoes, instead of one of the many, many other places along the way."

"It was late," he countered. "She was scared and acting on instinct."

"Oh come on! You two have been divorced for how long? Of all people, you’re probably the last on her list of someone to turn to."

"She was in trouble." He smiled. "Women find me reassuring."

Vicky snorted. "You’re about as reassuring as a shark." She aimed a pillow at his head. "What does Joe say?"

"He doesn’t believe her. In fact, he literally called her a liar."

"That’s good ol’ Joe for ya. The best thing for Paulina would be to dump that jackass for good."

"There’s no body, no blood, no sign of struggle. At least according to Joe. However, I believe that in his rush to deal with Rachel, he may have overlooked something."

"Sounds to me like Rachel might have a problem getting anyone to believe her. Joe needs hard evidence. You know Carl, evidence—like a body."

He didn’t want to face the possibility that Rachel might be wrong. He couldn’t forget the way she’d looked at him, her eyes begging him to believe.

"Perhaps it happened just as she said," Carl reasoned. "Perhaps it didn’t. I can’t accept the concept of Rachel imagining it all."

"Well, then, maybe she’s lying."

Rachel never lied, he thought. "Impossible."

"Think about it Carl. You told her you’re moving and it upset her. So, she makes up something to keep you here, protect her from some shady killer who doesn’t leave a shred of evidence."

It made sense, almost. "I’m not with her right now. If she wanted me around then why didn’t she ask me to stay with her last night."

"That’s because it’s too soon. She has to let you dangle for a while," Vicky said. "Rachel is a crafty character. She knows exactly how to get what she wants."

He remembered Rachel’s reaction to his news. He also remembered the sheer terror on her pale face just hours before.

"Victoria, darling, your true colors are showing. Rachel is above concocting such a tale to keep me in Bay City. We parted on her insistence, keep that in mind."

"And as lame as it sounds, it’s always a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. I’ll just wait until a body shows up thank you very much."

"Waiting for a body might be too dangerous," Carl said, his mind already wrapped up in scenarios. "What ever Rachel saw in that parking garage wasn’t good. In fact, I think we could find ourselves in a fine mess."

*(*

As much as she loathed the daily grind and drudge of Cory Enterprises, walking its halls kept Rachel firmly grounded in the real world. Reading proposals, crunching numbers—today had been almost normal. Except for the exhaustive need to close her eyes and sleep for twelve hours straight. Which was impossible thanks to the grizzly scene that played out on the back of her eyelids the second they closed. Other than that, the world was perfect.

The night had crept by at an agonizing pace. She’d been okay the first hour after Carl dropped her off. He’d been almost complacent with the idea of letting her stay at the mansion alone. She couldn’t really let him stay; it just wouldn’t be smart. Instead, she’d spent the entire night jumping at every noise and was wide-awake until dawn. Now she was ready to collapse face first onto her spreadsheets.

She heard a soft noise behind her, a sigh, and glanced over her shoulder to find Carl standing just inside her office doorway. There was a slight smile on his face and his hands were in the pockets of his black trench coat. She’d never been so happy to see someone in her life.

"Almost finished," she said while she faked interest in the data on her desk. "Come in and sit." She gestured to the unoccupied chair directly across from her.

"Hasn’t changed much since I last saw it," he said as he settled in. She kept her eyes glued to the numbers so she wouldn’t need to look up. She knew exactly what he meant and didn’t want to think of that ugly day.

"Yeah, well, what can I say. I like your taste."

"I’m glad."

His nearness unnerved her. Running to him hadn’t been a mistake she’d told herself over and over all day long. Falling into him, clinging to him, that had been a mistake. A colossal mistake. Being in his arms was too nice, even though she knew it could go nowhere. She couldn’t forget the danger that followed him and he would never forgive her for giving him the boot.

She raised her eyes to finally face him.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I’m okay. I guess. Have you heard from Joe?"

"No."

More than likely, the killer wouldn’t come for her, but she still worried. She was a high-profile personality in Bay City. One look in the society pages could spell her doom. Of course, she doubted any self-respecting killer perused the fluff section of the newspaper.

"You are truly worried about all this," he said softly. He looked at her hard, as though trying to read her thoughts.

"Yes," she admitted.

He looked completely at ease in his former office. But then, he always looked at ease and fit in wherever he went.

"Mrs. Cory," a familiar voice called from the hallway. "I have…" Rachel’s secretary, once Carl’s right-hand woman, stopped in her tracks. "Mr. Hutchins! What are you doing here?" Her face flushed at she realized how brash her question sounded. "I mean, it’s just so good to see you again."

"Hallo Dee," Carl said as he rose for her rug. "How’s the family?"

"Good as always. How was your trip?"

"You knew?" Rachel asked, dumbfounded.

"The grapevine," Carl and DeeDee replied simultaneously, then laughed.

Rachel could only stare at them, wide-eyed. "Did you need something?"

"I’ve finished tomorrow’s memos," her once unflappable secretary said as she gave Rachel a folder. "I also wanted to remind you that I’ll be leaving early tomorrow."

"That’s fine and that will also be all." DeeDee flashed Carl a little wave before making a somewhat dignified dash for the door.

"How is it…" she began.

Carl turned to her, swift and graceful. "Shall I take you to dinner?"

Might as well. She surely didn’t want to dwell on how her secretary knew about Carl’s doings and she did not. Dinner, however, sounded more like a date than a shared meal. "I’d rather not go out."

"Please Rachel, surely you can withstand my company for one night," he pleaded with his devastating voice.

"I just don’t feel like going out." Yet she didn’t wish to be alone just yet either. "I’d ask you over, but it’s Helen’s night off."

The words were out before she could catch herself. Really, she should know better than to just fling the door wide open for him.

"I can cook," he reminded her. "I’m not that bad either."

No he wasn’t. The times he’d cooked for her before and during their marriage had been marvelous. To let him do so now would be…intimate. She remembered times shared in the kitchen. On the table, the counter or the floor…a whispered word and a tender touch and suddenly all thoughts of food would be forgotten.

Her face felt hot. Erotic memories while in Carl’s presence were not smart. She had to remember that sensational sex did not make for a sensational marriage.

"You must allow me this opportunity Rachel. I’d enjoy impressing you with my skill."

"Sure," she said with a wobbly voice and began gathering her things. "Nothing fancy though. I can’t wait until midnight to eat."

*(*

He’d never anticipated having Rachel in his penthouse again so soon. He couldn’t count the years since they’d passionately begun their relationship on this very couch. For Rachel to return to such an evocative reminder of their past, she had to be truly scared. Or, if Victoria’s theory held any water, desperate to keep him in Bay City.

He wondered, as he ate the simple meal he’d prepared, just how far Rachel would go if she wanted him to stick around. She’d loved him once and he knew she still cared. If last night was any proof, she trusted him. There was still chemistry between them, enough to generate the occasional spark. She simply hadn’t cared enough not to divorce him.

In a flash, he knew Victoria’s insinuations about Rachel’s intentions were weaker than dishwater. Rachel didn’t need to make up stories to keep him in town. She feared what she saw as his ‘dangerous’ side. To her he would never be able to change his ways. She hadn’t then and wouldn’t now.

Rachel sat stiffly on the other end of the couch. He was afraid she’d push the food off her plate if she didn’t calm down and eat.

"Rachel," he said gently "My cooking isn’t that bad."

Her fork paused in mid-shove as though she had forgotten he was in the room. "I’m still a little preoccupied by what happened." She took a bite.

Carl watched her graceful profile as she chewed. When he’d suggested eating in the living room, he knew she’d sit as far away as possible. Too close would be too tempting. He knew he was the reason she’d been blushing since they’d left her office.

She at some more before lowering her plate and settling back into the couch. "Maybe we should watch TV. There could be news of the murder."

"The TV has been moved to the bedroom," he said, then watched her face go deep crimson. "We could…"

"No! No, that’s okay."

He chuckled. "I don’t think there’ll be any news. Joe would contact you first."

"I suppose. I hope."

Carl understood exactly what was going through her head. Exactly which memories she was attempting to forget.

"Would you like to talk about what happened?"

She turned bright blue eyes on him while her hands tied themselves up in knots. "No, I’ve already gone through it enough. Talking it to death won’t help."

"You’re sure?"

"Yeah." She gazed at the front door. "Maybe I should go," she said, nearly ready to make a dash for the door.

Without thinking, Carl reached out and grabbed her hand. With a gentle pull, she fell back onto his lap, landing with a soft, arousing thud. She stayed there for approximately ten seconds before sliding off his lap to sit next to him.

"It’s too early to go home," he said, refusing to let her up.

"Really, Carl," she protested weakly.

"What’s there to be afraid of here?"

He brought them closer and she lifted her face to him. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing along her cheekbone.

"I’m not afraid. Not of anything," she whispered. He could see the fear in her eyes.

"Not even the killer?"

"Of course I’m afraid of him."

Her skirt had slid up just a bit and when he looked down, he could see her shapely thigh. He placed a hand there and Rachel shivered.

No matter what had passed between them, Carl couldn’t forget the strength of their attraction. He touched her and she yielded. She laid her head in the crook of his neck and he lost himself in her. When they came together, there was fire and lightening and insurmountable power.

Carl lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, soft and tender. He felt the quiver of her lips, the gentle sigh that touched his lips. His mouth hovered over hers for a long moment. She tasted heavenly. Warm and soft and sweet and hungry. There was a sense of relief in the kiss, as though they’d at last rid themselves of a terrible tension. The unexpected comfort of her scared him, but he refused to move away.

Feeling fearless, he greedily moved his lips against hers. Rachel reciprocated with a passion that matched his own. The kiss was fierce and fragile all at once. Everything inside him tightened and heated, as if a jolt of electricity ran through his body.

The hand resting on her leg inched further north until his fingers touched her inner thigh. The flesh he stroked was irresistibly familiar, even though it’d been years, too many, since he’d touched Rachel this way. She trembled, but didn’t draw away.

He still loved her, wanted her; he wasn’t a total fool. If her response was any indication, she wanted him too. She moved her mouth against his and inhaled as if trying do draw the life out of him. She was soft and hesitant, as if she was afraid of tasting too deep.

He leaned closer, over her, pressing her into the plush cushions. When his hands moved onto the bare skin under her blouse, she gasped, and her hands went to the sides of his face. She raked her fingers through his hair, pulling it loose from its fastening, and pulled him back to her.

And then he found her pushing him away. "We can’t." Moisture made her eyes glitter and the red in her cheeks only heightened her beauty.

"Why ever not?"

She shook her head. "We can’t do this Carl. We can’t sleep together."

"Sleeping wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, my darling."

"You know what I meant."

Aahh, she was serious. "What’s the matter? Do I have garlic on my breath?" he asked lightly, as though what had passed between them was trivial. As if he didn’t want to ask her why she’d pushed him out of her life. He refused to plead for an answer. He wanted her as much as ever, he ached for her, but he refused to need her. Not if she didn’t need him.

"Would it make things better if I say I have mints?" He continued to hold himself against her, savoring every inch of her exquisite body.

"Be serious Carl," she warned.

He was serious about not moving. Not until she forced him away. He pressed himself so close to her, he could feel the beating of her heart and the slight tremble in her legs. Already her heat had seeped under his skin.

"Tell me Rachel, when was the last time someone wanted to kiss you?

Her eyes flashed and he knew it was time to move. He slide against hers slowly and ran his lips from chin to ear, wanting to leave a lasting impression. He allowed them to linger long enough for a nip of her earlobe before he let her go.

She jumped up from the couch and practically flew across the room. "Now it really is time for me to go home."

"Will you be needing my services tonight?"

"Get it through your thick skull Carl! We will not be sleeping together—not tonight, not tomorrow night, never."

"Never is a long time. However, I was referring to a ride home."