What a quandary. Yes, sirree. Could he? Would he?

His obsession was turning him into a cold-blooded murderer. No, that wasn’t true, he forced himself to admit. He was already a killer. A perfect killer, he qualified. His ego insisted that he give himself his due. A part of him was quite analytical about it all, and he was able to recognize what was happening to him, but he couldn’t make himself mourn the loss of what others would call his sanity. He wasn’t crazy. No, of course, he wasn’t. But he was vengeful. No doubt about that. It was his sacred duty to give back what had been given to him.

He paced about the little room, planning and fuming. That sleazy little Lonnie boy had messed things up good, and he couldn’t let him get away with it, could he? Because of him, the perfect plan had been ruined, and what was he prepared to do about it?

The stupid ingrate was forcing him to move up his timetable. What an inconvenience that was, and Lonnie should have to pay, shouldn’t he? Why, yes, indeed he should. Fair was fair, after all, and besides, he’d noticed Laurant didn’t like the young slug. But then who would? Maybe it was time he showed her how much he cared for her. He decided to give her a gift, something special… like Lonnie’s spleen or liver, maybe. Certainly not his heart. He wanted to please her, not insult her, and he wouldn’t have her thinking Lonnie was a heartbreaker. No, sirree.

He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. My oh my, where does the time go? So much to do, so little time left to do it, thanks to Lonnie boy. Oh, he’ll pay all right, with his spleen and his liver and maybe even a kidney or two. But first things first, he cautioned. There was work to be finished.

Preparation, after all, was everything. The party had to be perfect.

Chapter 30

She loved sleeping with him, tucked safely in his arms with her legs trapped under one of his thighs. She awakened before he did but was feeling too content to move. Nick looked so peaceful. She didn’t want to disturb his rest, and so she stayed perfectly still while she studied his face with the critical eye of an artist. He had the most wonderful profile. The chiseled line of his jaw, the straight nose, the perfectly sculptured mouth. She wanted to paint him, to capture the strength she saw in his eyes. She wondered if he knew how beautiful he was or if he cared. He was such a practical man. He didn’t have time for such thoughts or vanities.

She wanted him to wake up and make love to her, but she knew that wouldn’t happen. He’d turned to her again and again during the night, but now it was morning and everything was different. She had asked him for one night, and the cost, she knew, had been dear. She couldn’t and wouldn’t ask for more.

How was she ever going to go back to the ways things were? She was a strong woman. She could do anything she set her mind to, and she was a master at hiding her feelings. She could pretend that it had been a glorious night of recreational sex, that was all, a simple way to release pent-up frustrations and tensions… but oh, God, how was she ever going to pull that off? She wished she could be more worldly. She had plenty of friends at school in Europe and at work in Chicago who believed it was perfectly all right to take a man they had only just met home with them for the night and then never see him again. Women had needs, after all. What was wrong with a one-night interlude? Everything, Laurant thought. Because the heart had to be involved. She could never have given herself to Nick so completely if she hadn’t already made a commitment and acknowledged that she loved him.

Memories… she would have the memories of their night together, and that would be enough. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted more than memories. She wanted to wake up next to Nick every morning for the rest of her life.

She hated feeling this vulnerable and wished to God there was a way to harden herself. Throwing the sheet back, she nudged Nick’s thigh away and got out of bed.

No regrets.

Both of them were in a hurry to leave the motel. He wanted to get out of the room before he grabbed her, threw her on the bed, and made love to her again. She wanted to leave as quickly as possible before she started crying again… like the stupid, small-town girl that she was.

The silence between them was strained and horribly uncomfortable. She stared out the window while he drove. She wondered what he was thinking but didn’t ask.

Nick was silently cursing himself for being such a bastard. What kind of man was he to take advantage of his best friend’s sister? A sick, perverted bastard. That’s what he was, all right, and Tommy was never, ever going to understand.

Regrets? Hell yes, he had regrets, yet he knew that if they had stayed in that motel room another five minutes, he would have made love to her again.

They stopped at a superstore off the main highway and spent a quick half hour shopping. At a filling station, Laurant changed while Nick got a couple of Diet Cokes out of the machine. When she came out, she was wearing a seven-dollar pink-and-white checked blouse tucked into a fifteen-dollar pair of stonewashed blue jeans, but the inexpensive clothes looked like designer labels on her The fabric hugged the curves of her luscious body, and he had to look away until he got his heartbeat regulated. Scum, he thought I’m lower than scum. Then he looked again and noticed that her hair shone with copper highlights in the sun. He remembered how the soft curls felt when she was leaning over him. Realizing what he was doing, he cursed himself again. He had the discipline of a pig.

She walked to the car, gliding over the pavement with her sexy, long-legged stride. He handed her the can of Coke, frowning as though she’d done something offensive, then got behind the wheel and didn’t say another word to her for a good twenty miles. As much as he tried to keep his mind on the road and other pressing matters, he couldn’t keep himself from glancing over at her every few minutes. She had the sexiest mouth, and when he thought about the things she’d done with it, a tightness settled in his chest.

He couldn’t block the images. "Hell."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind."

"Has Pete called you back yet?"

"What?"

He was a grouchy as a hungry bobcat. She calmly repeated the question.

"No," he answered curtly. "I told you he was on his way to Houston. His plane won’t land for another hour."

"No, you didn’t tell me."

He shrugged. "I thought I did."

The road curved to the east, the sun blinding. Nick put on his sunglasses and then took a long swallow from the can.

"Are you always this grumpy in the morning?" she asked.

"We’ve been living together long enough for you to know the answer to that question. What do you think?"

"You’re in a mood," she said. "That’s what I think."

"In a mood?" He glanced at her with a quick scowl. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you’re acting like a jerk," she calmly explained. "What do you think is causing it?"

Gee, I don’t know, he thought. Maybe it’s due to the fact that I spent most of the night screwing my best friend’s sister.

He thought it prudent to keep silent. He finished his Coke and dropped the can in the cup holder.

"Are you still thirsty?" she asked, offering him her drink. "You don’t want it?"

"You can have it."

And that was the end of their conversation for the next ten minutes. Laurant waited for him to get past whatever was bothering him, and when she couldn’t stand the silence another minute, she said, "I imagine Noah’s told Tommy by now."

"Good God, I hope not. It’s my job to tell your brother. Not Noah’s."

"He’s going to know," she began.

"I’ll tell him," he insisted.