have.”
Sidney sank into a chair, kicking herself for thinking her mother had been worried about her, not Samantha, or that her egotistical older sister would have bothered to call home and talk about anyone besides herself.
“You’ve got to do something,” her mother was saying.
“Like what?”
“Talk her out of it.”
Sidney laughed softly, so she wouldn’t cry. “Samantha does what she pleases. She’ll get a divorce if she wants one, no matter what you or I say.”
Her mother was silent for a moment. “I just don’t understand you girls sometimes. In my day, a woman gave her husband some leeway.”
“He’s cheating on her,” she said shortly.
“Yes, well, men are more susceptible to sins of the flesh. A true lady is forgiving, not vindictive.”
Sidney smiled. Not only was her mother old-fashioned, but she had no idea what Samantha was capable of. “Not everybody has a marriage like you and Daddy,” she said. “He’s devoted to you.” Henpecked, too. “Greg is…not the same.”
Her mind drifted to an awful scene at Samantha and Greg’s wedding. Sidney had been a sweet nineteen, a reluctant bridesmaid in the frothy lavender dress her sister had forced her to wear. It pushed her breasts up to her chin and cinched in her waist, so it must have been partially to blame for Greg’s clumsy, roving hands when he found her alone in a dark hallway.
That was a secret she’d never told. Samantha was already pregnant and Sidney couldn’t bear to hurt her. By the time her sister’s second baby came along the point was moot. Samantha had already caught Greg cheating and blamed her postpartum body for his indiscretions.
In the years since, her savagely achieved perfection hadn’t kept him faithful.
“I’m really tired, Mama,” Sidney said, rubbing her aching forehead. “I think I’ll go to bed early. Tell Daddy I love him, ’kay?”
“Okay, dear. Take care of yourself.”
“You, too.”
Sidney pushed the button on the receiver, feeling tears flood her eyes. “You’re pathetic,” she told herself, brushing them off her cheeks. Before she realized her mother had been calling about Samantha, a ray of hope had spread through her chest, filling an empty part of her.
Now it was hollow once again.
She’d never been able to talk to her mother about her feelings, supernatural or otherwise. Aurelia Morrow had “spells,” too, ones that required days of bed rest and absolute quiet. Sidney’s “feelings” had always given Mama “spells.”
“Whatever,” she said dismally, trying to convince herself she didn’t care. So what if she didn’t have a best friend or close relative to confide in? So what if she didn’t have that special someone who understood her and believed in her and supported her?
In her experience, few people did. Her mother’s illness, real or imaginary, baffled her father. He’d been walking on pins and needles around her for the past twenty years. Greg and Samantha certainly weren’t soul mates.
So why did Sidney feel so cheated by circumstance?
This was all Marc Cruz’s fault, she decided, trudging upstairs to her room. He stirred up latent desires. Placing her cordless phone on the nightstand, she stretched out on the bed in her damp towel and buried her face in the pillows.
She gasped, feeling his touch.
Scrambling to a sitting position, she searched the dark room with wide eyes, clutching the towel to her breasts.
He wasn’t there.
She lay back down experimentally, her head making a soft indentation in the pillow. She felt his presence, like a ghost hand cradling the back of her head. In response, her nipples peaked against the soft terry cloth, and a tingling warmth throbbed between her thighs.
Ashamed of her body’s reaction, she squeezed her legs together, trying to will her arousal away. Instead the tension built, slowly becoming unbearable.
With no one else to touch her, she surrendered to temptation and touched herself.
Chapter 5
When Marc showed up on her doorstep at 5:25 the next morning, he looked tired.
In deference to the heat, or the occasion, he was wearing lightweight trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, not tucked in. His eyes were guarded, devoid of warmth, but his chocolate-brown hair appeared invitingly thick and lustrous. It was the kind of hair a woman liked to run her fingers through, and perhaps one just had, considering its tousled appearance.
Half as polished as usual, he was twice as handsome.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know proper etiquette for greeting a police officer at the door. “Do you want a cup of coffee…or anything?”
His dark gaze flicked over her. “No.” He took a pair of sunglasses out of his front pocket and covered his eyes, although it was barely light out.
Frowning at his brusque treatment, she stepped through the door and locked it behind her. She had to hurry to keep up with him on the way to the parking garage.
“We’re taking your truck.”
“Fine,” she replied. It made sense that he wouldn’t want Blue in his fancy car, growling and breathing down his neck.
“I’ll drive,” he offered. Shrugging, she tossed him the keys and climbed in the passenger side. Obviously he didn’t want to be here with her. So why had he suggested this outing? Deciding two could play at being unfriendly, she let the silence stretch between them.
They picked up Blue at the kennel, where Sidney did a quick feed and clean while Marc acted bored and looked impatient. By the time she was finished, the sun was burning through the early morning clouds, promising another hot, hazy day. Wiping sweat from her forehead, she moved to put Blue in the bed of the truck.
“I want him up front with us.”
“Why?”
“How else are you going to know if he reacts to something? You’ve got to pick up on his…vibe, right?”
It would be a tight squeeze with the three of them in the cab. Blue would have to sit next to the window, leaving her sandwiched beside Marc. She squinted at him over the hood of the truck. “Are you just trying to get close to me?”
She couldn’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his sunglasses, but she could feel his tension. “Why would I do that?” he asked in an even voice.
“To crowd me in. Intimidate me. You know.”
“Oh. Right.” He nodded, acknowledging that he’d done that before. “I make it a rule not to crowd a woman with an aggressive dog at her disposal,” he said with a sardonic smile. His teeth were strong and white against his dark skin.
Her stomach jumped at the sight.
Smiling back at him, a little uncertainly, she scooted across the bench seat and coaxed Blue in after her. When Marc got behind the wheel, she held herself stiff, careful to keep her body from touching his. Out of the corner of her eye, she studied his hands, manipulating the gearshift, noting the thickness of his wrists and the veins running down the length of his forearms. Remembering how she’d imagined those hands on her last night, she felt her entire body flush.
With a hundred pounds of panting, drooling, fur-covered mutt beside her, Sidney wondered how she could be so
