Maybe Shea was right and Taggert was heading for Montana. Maybe she was heading for Montana herself.

In the past couple of days, he'd spent most of his spare time looking into the Winkler murder and the Taggert investigation. What he'd found had been skimpy, to say the least. Everything about this case had fallen into Daniels's lap, and he'd happily accepted the gift.

Daniels had never investigated the wife, who was usually suspect number one. He'd never investigated the neighbors, who all apparently had a motive of one kind or another. Daniels was lazy, but Luther had to wonder if he himself would've looked any further, given the preponderance of evidence. Usually what came too easily was the truth.

But after Luther spent a couple of days looking into the other possible suspects, at Grace's request, an uneasy feeling had grown steadily in his gut. Something here was not right. He felt it, deep down and he had learned to never ignore his instincts.

"Nothing," Clint said as he marched into the living room.

Luther withheld the urge to say "I told you so" as Clint dropped into a fat leather chair that sank slowly under his weight.

Dean, a scowl on his face, was right behind Clint. "She's not here."

Boone entered shortly after Dean, the persimmon-faced Ms. Tilton directly behind him. "What next?" he barked.

"We got nowhere with her friend Grace, and her cameraman swears she hasn't called him this time."

"We'll find her," Dean said.

They had tried to interrogate Grace this morning, but hadn't gotten far. Luther still wanted to know exactly how Ray had gotten rid of the Sinclair brothers so quickly. G.o.d knows he wouldn't allow them to berate or upset his pregnant wife! Ray had been overprotective before, but he was now safeguarding Grace with everything he had.

Ms. Tilton stood in the foyer, nervously fiddling with her keys.

"I hate to break it to you boys," Luther said. "But Shea is all grown up."

In unison, they gave him a warning glare he ignored.

"She doesn't have to tell you where she is at all times, she doesn't have to report in like she's twelve years old." Given the looks he was already getting, he decided not to share his theory that they were likely to find Shea wherever they found Nick Taggert. They wouldn't like it and besides ... they were smart guys. They'd figure it out on their own soon enough, if they hadn't already.

"Cut her some slack," he said as he rose to his feet.

Boone cursed, Clint stood up in turn and they headed for the door, much to the Realtor's relief.

"I was sure she'd be here," Dean said as Ms. Tilton closed and locked the door behind them. "She thinks Taggert is innocent, and if I know her she's trying to prove it. This is the logical place to start."

Boone made a snorting noise of disgust. "There's your problem right there. Shea has never been logical! I can't believe she let that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Taggert sucker her in like that. I can't believe she actually thinks he didn't do it!"

Luther let them all pile into his car before he took the driver's seat. The poor Realtor was once again squeezed into the back between Clint and Boone.

He looked at the houses on the peaceful cul-de-sac, at the playing children, at the homes of the people who had been at the barbecue that night.

As he started the car, Luther stared at Dean, who was the most reasonable of the three, he had discovered. "I don't know if it will make you feel any better or not," he said. "But I'm beginning to think she might be right."

* * * She was relieved when Nick came home. So relieved that she almost ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. She refrained, though, not wanting to do anything to make him send her away ... or to make him want to stay gone the next time. He was still wary of her, for some reason, suspicious of her motives and uncertain about her loyalties.

He brought food. Sandwiches, juice, two sodas and what remained of the bag Maude had packed. Cookies, mostly.

"Where'd you get the money for the food?" she asked as they laid out their feast in the upstairs bedroom, where they could watch the comings and goings on the street below and still be shielded from view by the partially closed miniblinds.

"Norman gave me the money," he said, his eyes on the street. "You can strike him and Lauren off your list of suspects."

Nick was not as suspicious as she was, and she had a feeling he'd wanted all along to believe that his friend and ex-girlfriend were innocent. "Does he know you're staying here?"

"No."

"Good."

Nick turned his eyes to her then, accusing and intense. "He explained everything. More than I wanted to know, to tell the truth."

"And you believed him."

"Yes."

When they had eaten and Shea cleared the garbage away, Nick sat on the floor by the bed and stared out the window. He couldn't see much from there, she imagined. Sitting beside him, she discovered she was right: she could see only a small segment of the street in front of his house.

"Lauren's an alcoholic," he said softly, and without looking at her. "I never saw it, but Norman did. That night, she realized she had fallen too far, and she quit. Norman helped her. He's been good for her, I think."

"What about his wife?" Shea snapped.

"They'd been having trouble for years, he said. There wasn't another woman or another man, they simply fell out of love. Decided they didn't want the same things anymore. It happens." He shifted uncomfortably on the floor. "I didn't see that, either."

"It's the sort of thing people hide very well," Shea said. "We never know..."

"I should've known. About Lauren, about Norman." Nick shook his head. "I've been going through the past few years with blinders on. I was so determined to start over, to make sure I left the c.r.a.p of my childhood behind me, that I ... I painted a pretty picture. My eyes were wide-open but I saw only what I wanted to see."

"We all do that, to a certain extent."

Nick turned his head and looked down at her, his blue eyes piercing. "You do that when you look at me-I know it. You dismiss what you should see and get caught up in something that isn't entirely true."

"I see quite clearly," she whispered. "And what I see is very, very real."

She got up on her knees, leaned over and kissed him. It was an easy kiss, and she was relieved that Nick didn't jump to his feet or turn his head away from her. He kissed her back.

Their entire relationship, short and intense as it was, had been colored by the knowledge that they didn't have much time. A day more, maybe. A night, if they were lucky. But it didn't make what she felt any less real.

She caught sight of the police car out of the corner of her eye, as it pa.s.sed slowly by. Instinctively she grabbed on to Nick's T-shirt and pulled him to the floor, where he landed out of sight from the street and heavily atop her.

She licked her lips, shifted slightly until he rested between her legs, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Coppers," she whispered.

There was a moment of quiet stillness, and then Nick lowered his head slowly, taking his time as he latched his mouth to hers, cupped her head in his hands and kissed her. This was no quick kiss, but continued on unrelenting, growing gradually deeper, until her knees were weak and her heart pounded against his chest.

She had wanted, more than anything, for Nick to kiss her, but she had never expected the kiss would grow so fierce. Quickly, surely, it burned out of control. For her and for Nick. She felt his pa.s.sion as if it were hers. She breathed it in and absorbed it through her pores and her tongue.

He lowered his mouth to her neck and nuzzled there, slowing down as he slipped his hand beneath her T-shirt and settled it possessively at her side. His movements were undemanding, gentle, slow as mola.s.ses.

"I don't know what's real anymore," he whispered.

"This is real," she said, threading her fingers through his hair and holding on tight. "What we feel right now is very real."

Sun slanted through the partially open blinds, striping the floor and their bodies. The noises of summer -children playing and laughing, the distinct sound of a water hose running, the water splashing-were distant and comforting.

And Shea didn't want to let Nick go. Heaven help her, she couldn't.

"You make me crazy," he whispered.

"Good."

Nick kissed her again, barely sliding his tongue into her mouth, his hand climbing higher to cup her breast. He found his way impeded by a bra, but quickly located the front closure and flicked it open.

A feminine instinct that had gone unexplored before she met Nick seized her. She'd never felt such power in her own body, such a strong and spontaneous need that her insides quivered. She parted her lips and her tongue met Nick's. Her back arched so she was closer against him, tighter and surer, and it was not enough.

She untucked his T-shirt from his jeans, snaked her hand beneath to feel his hot, hard skin. To feel his chest rise and fall with every breath, to find and delight in the thud of his heartbeat beneath her hand.

Beneath strained denim his erection pressed insistently against her bare thigh. Her body moistened in response as her thighs parted farther and she latched her mouth to his neck, holding on and pressing her body tight against his. He rocked against her, teasing and arousing her, promising her everything he had to give. While she suckled at his neck he rode her higher, and if there had been no clothing between them, keeping them apart, he would be inside her now. Her body throbbed, ached and yearned and pleaded for release.

She lifted her hips when he began to slide her shorts down, and before he had them off she was working the snap and the zipper of his jeans. She couldn't wait a moment longer, but she didn't have the words to tell him so. Her breath wouldn't come; words would be impossible.

While he kissed her she thrust her hands beneath his waistband and pushed his jeans over his hips. His skin, hard and warm, glided beneath her hands, and she held on, her fingers caressing his hips as he guided himself inside her.

There was nothing gentle about the way they came together, not today. This lovemaking was hot and hard, relentless and furious. Nick's hips, still caught in her grasp, rocked in a powerful rhythm, growing faster with each thrust.

Shea slid her hands up, over Nick's thrusting hips, up his back to his neck, and wrapped her legs around him. Drawing him close, she urged him deeper, thrust against him, and shattered. She cried out as he held himself deep inside her and came with her. Their linked bodies shuddered, their heat and the sounds of their throaty cries filled the air around them.

When it was over, when the longing that had brought them together so quickly and pleasurably had faded, she took Nick's face in her hands and kissed him. Softly this time, without demand. It was a kiss that said "I love you" much more clearly than she could ever say the words.

"In my entire life, I've never known anything more real than that," she whispered.

He didn't try to leave, and she didn't drop her legs from his hips to let him go. She liked it here, with Nick a part of her, her heart beating too fast, her legs trembling still.

Nick kissed her back, and while he might not realize it yet, his kiss said "I love you," too.

Chapter 16.

H is instinct was to drag each and every suspect into the street and force the truth from the guilty party. While that method might momentarily satisfy his rage, it wouldn't be successful. Whoever the real killer was had played it cool so far. That wasn't likely to change just because he demanded it.

He sat on the floor before the window, watching as the sun went down and the lights came on. Seated behind him and slightly to the side, Shea leaned into his back and arm and watched with him.

"It looks like everything you wanted," she whispered.

"What?"

"The nice houses, the kids." She lifted a shapely arm and pointed. "Mrs. Ca.s.son even has a porch swing."

Nick grabbed her arm and kissed the sensitive skin at her inner elbow, and she answered with a soft laugh and a contented sigh.

He'd never lost control with a woman before, not the way he had this afternoon with Shea. It was the situation, he reasoned, that made every moment with her seem so precious. It was knowing he might not have much time left that made him so d.a.m.ned impatient to touch her, to be inside her.

He wouldn't fight it anymore. Until this was over, Shea was his. He would sleep with her in the bed in this room; he would take and give whatever he could. This was his dream, but he hadn't known it until he met Shea, because he had never dreamed he could feel this way about anyone. It didn't matter where they were, what they had ... only that she was here.

If he had the luxury, he might call it love.

Shea draped her arms around his neck and peered over his shoulder to the street below. "I have an idea," she whispered.

In spite of himself, he smiled.

"If Norman and Lauren are really on the up and up, then they can help."

Not the kind of idea he had in mind, at the moment. "We can trust them."

"Then I think they should throw a neighborhood barbecue tomorrow night, and invite everyone at this end of the cul-de-sac. Everyone who was at your party that night."

A warning shiver snaked through his body. "And I show up as a surprise guest?"

"No," she said quickly. "We find you a safe place to watch." She kissed his neck. "I'll be the surprise guest. Tomorrow, during the day, I'll visit everyone in the neighborhood and interview them. I can tell them it's a preinterview for a show I'm planning."

"No," he said lowly.

"Then I'll show up at Norman's barbecue and tell them all I know who really killed Gary Winkler."

"No," Nick said, more forcefully this time, taking her arm and pulling her into his lap. "You're talking about trapping a murderer, Shea. Someone who has killed and will likely kill again to cover what they did."

"I know." She kissed him briefly on the lips.

"I can't allow you-"

She grinned and interrupted. "Allow me?"

G.o.d, she was stubborn! He took her chin in his hand and glared at her. "I don't want you hurt."

"I won't be hurt," she whispered.

She would be, and so would he. They couldn't stay together when this was over, couldn't pretend that what they felt was anything lasting. But right now he wanted this to last. He wanted Shea in his life permanently.

He had a feeling that as soon as this crime was solved and the excitement was over, she'd be bored with him and move on to another story. Another injustice.

"If you go inside these people's houses to interrogate them-"

"Interview," she corrected, raising her eyebrows.

"Interview," he repeated. "I'll be there. You go in the front door and I'll go in the back. You interview them and I'll listen and make sure everything's okay. Maybe I'll even poke around a little while I listen."

"That sounds risky."