Kneeling beside her, he cut the gag away from her trembling mouth.
“He killed my sister,” she said, her blue eyes opaque with shock. Without another word, she fainted in his arms.
Chapter 19
When Samantha celebrated her thirtieth day of sobriety, Sidney threw her a party at the beach.
For Samantha, recovery didn’t happen right away, and it didn’t come easily. Between the divorce, the media attention and the police investigation of Kurtis Stalb’s death, she had several relapses. In the end, the case was quietly closed, even though the medical examiner’s findings regarding overkill didn’t exactly match up with the witnesses’ accounts of self-defense.
Marc wasn’t fired because of his relationship with Sidney, but he was demoted from lieutenant to detective and ordered to take six weeks unpaid leave. After returning to work, he began six months of desk duty, a fate worse than death, to hear him tell it. When this penance was paid, he would be repartnered with Detective Lacy-as her subordinate officer.
Deputy Chief Stokes had really outdone herself creating an apropos punishment.
Looking at Marc now, laughing with Samantha and the girls, Sidney couldn’t see any signs of discontent. His shoulders were relaxed, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his white shirt and dark skin contrasting brilliantly against the blue October sky. He’d accepted his fate with equanimity, claiming he’d have done a lifetime of desk duty, or even traffic detail, in exchange for Sidney’s safety.
Greg and his secretary broke up after the divorce papers were filed, much to Samantha’s amusement. Although he wanted Samantha back, she was abstaining from relationships as well as drugs and alcohol.
Sidney couldn’t have been happier for her sister, or more proud.
“Isn’t it time for the cake, dear?” her mother asked, snapping her out of her reverie.
“Hmm,” she said, making no move to get up. The sun was warm, the breeze was cool and the scenery was excellent. She’d never seen such a collection of fabulous-looking people. It was hard to believe that she and some of them were related.
“Why don’t I take care of it?” her mother offered with a secretive little smile. “I think your young man wants to talk to you.”
Over the past few months, Marc had charmed Aurelia Morrow with simple flattery and impeccable manners. Sidney found his gallantry disingenuous, but Aurelia ate it up with a spoon, proving herself no more immune to him than any other female. Sidney had also noticed him talking to her father this afternoon, some deep, manly conversation made up of stern eyebrows, gruff tones and firm handshakes.
Sidney placed a hand over her lower abdomen. Did he know?
At that very moment, his eyes met hers, with that same spark of electricity she’d felt the first time she saw him. As his gaze traveled down her body, to the hand resting on her belly, the smile fell off his face.
He did know.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said with apprehension, rising from her chair to stand on rubbery legs. She tugged on the hem of her knee-length yellow sundress, wondering what had possessed her to buy it. It was a whimsical, feminine creation she’d worn to please her sister. Now she felt awkward, barefoot and silly, like a little girl playing dress-up.
Marc approached her leisurely, his hands still buried in his pockets, his expression guarded. “Want to go for a walk?”
Behind his back, her sister winked and made an okay sign, as if she thought they were wandering off for a quickie and she approved of the idea.
“Sure,” Sidney said, smoothing her skirt again.
A few yards down the beach, he took her hand in his, a gesture that never failed to tug at her heartstrings. Blinking back the hot sting of tears, she looked out at the setting sun over the Pacific, its last rays casting brilliant golden light across that infinite expanse.
“I was going to tell you,” she said in a nervous rush, “but everything’s been going so well and I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“Tell me what?” he asked, pulling her toward him.
She stared at him without speaking, too anxious to be articulate.
“Why don’t you tell me later,” he murmured, brushing his lips across hers.
She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, gripping fistfuls of his shirt, wishing she could hold onto him forever.
“Hey,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered.
He jerked his head back to look at her. “You’re what?” Any notion that he’d already guessed was dispelled by his wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression. “You’re what?”
She couldn’t make herself repeat it.
“You said you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t. Now I am.”
“We haven’t even…”
“Yes we have.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, then her breasts, then her belly. She knew without asking that he was remembering the only time they’d failed to use protection since that first tempestuous week together.
About a month ago, they’d spent a steamy afternoon in bed. He kissed every inch of her body, worshipping her with his tongue, rousing her to a fever pitch. Instead of bringing her to climax, he begged her to do it herself while he watched, and she complied shyly, enthralled by his interest. After having lost the last of her inhibitions, she’d wanted him all over her, between her legs, between her breasts, in her mouth.
He’d obliged her thoroughly, dipping his engorged shaft inside her, pushing her breasts together and pleasuring himself there, plumbing the depths of her mouth. At last, he’d brought her to another orgasm with a series of slow, deep thrusts, before he withdrew, spilling himself on her quivering stomach.
The memory of that interlude was enough to make her body flush with embarrassment and arousal, even now.
“I pulled out,” he said unnecessarily.
She smiled. “This may come as a surprise to you, but medical professionals don’t consider that method particularly reliable.”
Her humor was lost on him, perhaps because he was staring at her breasts intently, as if trying to find some visual evidence of her condition. Against the apex of her thighs, another physical change was developing, pressing hard into her.
“Marc,” she protested, squirming in his arms. He was getting her all hot and bothered, but at sunset, the beach was far from deserted.
“I have to see you,” he said roughly, doing a quick survey of their surroundings. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward an empty lifeguard tower about a hundred feet from them. It wasn’t exactly private, but it would conceal them from all but the most prying eyes.
Blushing, she ascended the ladder ahead of him. The instant they reached the top, he fell to his knees in front of her and pushed her dress up to the waist, exposing her flat tummy.
“I can’t tell,” he said, moistening his lips.
“I’m only a few weeks along.”
He traced her navel with his fingertip then brushed his knuckles back and forth over her lower abdomen.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Have you been sick?”
