Watching for Willa Page 8

  “And stop looking at me that way!”

  “How? The way you’re looking at me?”

  “Hell…” He drew back, slumping back on the floor. “Just what do you think your clientele will think once they find out you’ve involved yourself with a man suspected of murder?” he demanded, gazing up at the ceiling.

  “Involved myself…have I?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  The velvet and desire was gone from his voice, and the cold, cutting edge had returned. Back in character, he made her yearn over the loss of what she’d only glimpsed and tasted.

  “There hasn’t been a murder,” she pointed out to him.

  “Yet.”

  Willa sat up, determined to make her point. “Even if that poor woman dies, you can’t convince me that you did it—or arranged for someone else to,” she added, to counter another possible comment.

  “Keep making a pest of yourself and I may decide to change your mind.”

  She watched him maneuver back into his chair. It was slow-going, and she wanted to help, but knew better than to try. Despite his injury, he managed well enough, moving with commendable control and strength.

  When he was settled, she continued. “I’m merely asking for answers.” Knowing she would need the height for confidence, she pushed herself to her feet. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to go ask Judith. It has something to do with her, doesn’t it?”

  “Stay away from her!” Zach roared, nearly coming out of his chair again.

  Willa took a cautionary step backward, but challenged, “Give me a good reason why. Not one—a good one.”

  “I’ll give you the only one that matters. This is none of your business!”

  How could he say that? “Someone’s making it my business! I’ve had an anonymous note put in my mailbox. Today, I’ve been given what may be an assaulted woman’s underwear….”

  “All the more reason to stay out of this.”

  He was unbelievable. “Has it occurred to you I’m not being given a choice?”

  His face took on that strained, closed expression she was beginning to recognize. The one that said things between them were deteriorating rapidly.

  “You would have been if you’d listened to me. If you’d kept away.” Gripping the armrests of his chair, he leaned forward, his expression intense, his gaze hypnotic. “I told you that I don’t like intruders, and nothing’s changed. I don’t want you.”

  Words meant to hurt, to repel. They succeeded somewhat, but Willa still stroked a finger over where his beard had burned her. “Yes, I noticed how much you don’t. You should get your messages clear, Zach. It’s a bit strange to kiss a woman the way you do, and then tell her it was nothing.”

  “So call me strange. Others have accused me of worse.”

  Enough was enough of this bizarre merry-go-round, she decided. She was even losing a grip on what she believed. “If you say so,” she murmured, turning toward the door.

  “Willa.”

  She stopped, aware of the tingling sensation that coursed through her body at the sound of her name on his lips, but she refused to turn around. “What?”

  He hesitated. “You have beautiful skin. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

  It wasn’t much to grasp on to, but Willa did a slow pivot anyway. “I’ll heal. It wouldn’t hurt you to shave, though.”

  He looked as if she’d suggested the most outlandish thing. “Why bother? It’s a waste of time. Besides, this isn’t likely to happen again, is it?”

  “Who knows? There’s no telling when I’ll test your temper again.”

  His head moved back as if he’d taken a clip on his sturdy chin. “Have you always had such an adventurous spirit?”

  “Actually, marriage slowed me down.” The memories coaxed a sad smile. “With A.J. being a rescue helicopter pilot, I thought someone in the family needed to keep their feet on solid ground.”

  “I remember hearing about the crash. He was a fool for flying in impossible conditions.”

  His criticism didn’t upset her. She understood it was the pilot in him reacting, that’s all; they were by experience, if not nature, an intensely safety-conscious species. “There were justifiable reasons,” she told him, knowing he would understand. “The little boy he’d been trying to save had been severely injured in a tractor accident north of here. The child’s only hope, small though it was, had been the specialists in Houston.”

  “Instead, everyone was lost.”

  She backtracked to his chair and crouched before him, knowing what he was driving at. “The crew was committed to what they believed in. If they had the chance to do it all over again, I know they would still have taken the risk. It took me a long time to accept that. You can’t stop people from doing what, in their hearts, they know they have to do.”

  Was that a flicker of admiration she saw in his penetrating gaze? It wasn’t what she’d set out to get from him. She wanted his trust. Just a few grains to start. Maybe she could help him. Heaven knows why she felt he needed it, or what she could do for that matter, but the pull was there.

  “Do you play chess?”

  Perplexed, she shook her head, giving him a quizzical frown.

  “Maybe you should. You’re quite the strategist.”

  “I’m not playing games.”

  His expression exposed his skepticism. “All of life is a game. Everything we are is geared toward maneuvering, jockeying for position, feints, threats.” A flicker of desire flared again as he let his gaze roam over her features. “The trouble is that most people haven’t a clue as to what they’re doing.”

  “Is this a variation of the ‘be careful for what you ask’ lecture?”

  “Take it seriously.”

  “You’ve made it impossible to do otherwise.” Willa touched his hand. “And I still intend to find out, so please, you tell me. What’s going on around here, Zach?”

  At first he didn’t reply, and she wondered if he would. He kept staring at their hands, a frown building like summer thunderheads across his broad forehead.

  Suddenly he pulled free and crossed his arms. “I told you. There’s a stalker who’s after blond, blue-eyed women.”

  “Is Nancy Porter a blue-eyed blonde?”

  “She and Judith could be twins…in more ways than one.”

  Willa sorted through that answer, wishing that pieces of the puzzle weren’t starting to fit so neatly. She didn’t like the picture she was getting.

  Finally she had to ask, “It’s not a coincidence, is it?”

  “So you’re starting to put it together.”

  “You mean this does all tie in with her?” she whispered, aghast. “Judith really was the target?”

  “What an appealing thought,” Zach drawled, looking anything but apologetic for how that sounded. “However, no. I think he’s out to make it look as if she is…and that I’m the one who’s stalking her.”

  A puzzle inside a puzzle. Willa found such thinking, such scheming, more than outlandish, it was frightening. “How did you pick up on this?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not the only one to have heard from our friend. I’ve received notes from him, too.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  This time Willa didn’t try to assimilate the information. It went beyond anything she’d ever had to deal with before. “You? Why would he be sending you messages if he’s trying to frame you?”

  “Because he is a fan?”

  Willa rose to stretch her legs and think about that. “I heard Stephen King had some problems awhile back with an overzealous admirer of his work. Is this a case of the darker the writer, the more twisted the fan?”

  “I wouldn’t know. This is my first.”

  If he was trying to console her, he’d failed.

  “The point I’m making,” Zach continued, “is that he knows me, knows my style, the way I try to construct my stories, how it’s not enough for m
e to simply scare the hell out of my readers temporarily, but permanently.”

  That much she understood. A.J. had once insisted on reading to her from Snakecharmer, and to this day she couldn’t look at the most innocent tattoo without shuddering. “Are you saying he wants to compete with you?”

  Zach’s answering look held a shrug. “He’s certainly presented me with one convoluted and challenging plot. And so far he’s invited interaction by letting me try to solve the mystery, trusting that I’ll figure out a way to keep the law off my back while he keeps pointing them in my direction.”

  “That’s insane, not to mention sadistic. He’d have to despise you to do such a thing.”

  “Would he?”

  Seeing his brief, bitter smile, she gaped. “He certainly can’t expect you to reward him?”

  “I think he did. Once. But not lately. Now I have an uneasy feeling that in the end I’m supposed to fail. Still, I’m not about to discount anything. The police won’t.”

  “What do you think has made him change?”

  “A taste for what he’s doing.” Zach shrugged.

  Something about the dismissive move was too practiced. “You have another theory, though, don’t you?”

  He eyed her for another long moment. “He may not be working alone, and it could be he’s fallen under the influence of someone less enamored with my…persona. Someone who loathes me enough to want to destroy me once and for all. Someone so determined that if they don’t succeed one way, they’re willing to try another.”

  The way he’d said “once and for all” gave Willa the shivers. “Whoever he is—or they are—this has certainly frightened your ex-wife to death.”

  The lines around Zach’s mouth deepened. “You bought that performance?”

  “Her friend was attacked in her own house! I’ll admit I’m not Judith’s greatest fan, but to have something so—”

  “For your sake, make sure she remains simply a customer.” At her wide-eyed glance, he gestured to the door. “You forget, it’s wired for sound out there. There’s a twin out back, and in the garage.”

  That look was coming back into his eyes, the secrets and the hidden emotions that created those disturbing shadows. “You’re trying to frighten me again.”

  “You heard it yourself—a woman’s been taken to the hospital. I damn well mean to frighten you.”

  “Then let me see the notes!” she pleaded urgently.

  “No! The only reason I told you about them is to make you see this isn’t a game. Now forget I ever mentioned them.”

  “Zachary, what if I want to help you?”

  Swearing violently, he spun his chair away as if trying to escape the very sight of her. “Are you this reckless with all men who admit they’re hot for you, or is this Pity the Cripple Day?”

  She thought she’d already witnessed the extent of his coldness and cruelty, but he’d just proven her wrong. As Willa felt the barbs dig deep, she wondered how simple words could hurt so much worse than bumps and bruises and cuts? She hadn’t cried, really cried, since burying A.J., but suddenly she was blinded by tears, and knew if she didn’t get out, she was going to make a grand fool of herself.

  Spinning around, she ran for the door. To her horror it slammed and locked just as she reached it.

  “Let me out!” She beat at the solid wood with her fist. “Let me go!”

  The door remained shut.

  Beginning to hyperventilate, she pressed her forehead to the cool oak. Come on, Willa. You’re stronger than this, and you know what he’s doing.

  She drew in a shaky, but deep breath, and slowly turned around to face him. He remained in the middle of the foyer, the remote control in his hand. She had no idea where he’d been hiding it, and didn’t care. She had only one priority at the moment and that was that he understand her. Completely.

  “I haven’t been with another man since my husband died. Until today it never crossed my mind to change that because what A.J. and I shared was fulfilling and special. For you to suggest what you did is beyond—”

  “I know,” he said heavily. With an elbow on an armrest, he hid his face in his hands. “And I apologize.”

  Unfortunately, words were his forte, leaving her to wonder what she should believe or disbelieve. “I don’t want your apology. What I want is an explanation for why you deliberately hurt me.”

  Will was an incredible thing. It made everything else like brains and brawn insignificant. Manifested by passion, it had the power to devour virtually any resistance. Willa had momentarily forgotten that, and now prayed for just enough of it to keep her sanity.

  “Willa…”

  “The truth.”

  Zach sat up, his face drawn and gray. “Because you’re unattainable.”

  “That’s not what you suggested a moment ago. Try again.”

  “That’s it!” he snapped. His eyes burned with his own passion. “You think you needed to explain about your marriage? A man only has to look into your eyes to know who you are and what you’ve lost. You’re not very good at hiding your emotions.

  “But what you are good at is reminding me of all the ways I’ve failed.” He briefly shut his eyes. “Looking at you forces me to face how happiness has evaded me, the peace I’ve lost, the faith I’ve never had. And—Hell, this is nuts.”

  “Tell me.”

  He turned his face away. “I hate knowing that even if I wasn’t who I am, or how I am, you’d remain unattainable because no one can compete with your dead husband. Most of all, I hate being tempted to try anyway.”

  Willa stared at his profile, wondering why she’d invited this; she was in no condition to deal with it, or him. He’d said it himself: not even Zach Denton was coping very well with Zachary Denton these days. And yet she heard herself murmur, “Oh my God. You’re afraid of feeling.”

  “Feeling?” His laugh was raw with pain. “Honey, I’m afraid, period. I have been all my life. It was my earliest memory, and it’s there in every minute of every day. It’s like having a Siamese twin attached at the jugular. Why do you think I write what I do? Who else is qualified to jerk everyone’s chain, but someone who’s constantly dangling from the end of his own?”

  Abruptly he pointed the remote control toward the door and released the latch. As it swung open Willa was nudged forward a few steps.

  “Go on. Run. I won’t bother you again. Take what’s in your pocket and give it to Pruitt. Blame me for having made you lie about it. Tell him to come see me. Tell him anything you want, or don’t tell him anything. Only, go.”

  “You don’t want me to.”

  “The hell I don’t.”

  “Try the truth again, Zach.”

  He wheeled toward her, stopping only when he was within touching distance. Then he closed his fingers around the two front tails of her overshirt and drew her closer, until she had to grab both armrests to balance herself.

  “More than not wanting to want you,” he murmured, his breath caressing her lips, “I don’t want you to get hurt. And you will if you don’t stay away from me. He knows you’re becoming my weakness. I don’t know how, but he knows. It has to stop.”

  Willa wondered if he could hear her heart pounding. “It’s out of our hands. I’m meeting the movers shortly. We’re stuck with each other. Your only option is to at least tell me who I should be most careful around. Who do you suspect?” she asked, amazed that she could speak at all. Maybe it was because his eyes had lost their fever and wildness again. Maybe it was because, as unready as she was to deal with the sexuality between them, it was easier than his anger or his self-destructiveness.

  Zach let go of her shirt and stroked her cheek with his right thumb where his whiskers had burned her. “You’re the most—All right. But before I tell you, there’s one more thing. If you do go to Pruitt, he’ll interrogate the people I’m about to name. When he does, something more terrible than Nancy Porter will happen. Don’t doubt it. It’s been promised. Be certain you can deal with having that on
your conscience.”

  He’d been threatened through those mysterious notes he’d mentioned. So that was why he’s been remaining closed-mouthed about what he knew, she thought, grateful that he’d finally shared that, but horrified, too. How had he coped this long with the weighty responsibility? She couldn’t imagine holding the fate of some unknown person or persons in her hands, while having to withhold information from authorities! Suddenly she realized she no longer questioned whether he was losing his mind, she was wondering how he’d managed to keep his sanity for as long as he had.

  “Zach,” she whispered, aching for him. “It’s been a nightmare for you, hasn’t it?”

  He didn’t respond right away, and it was clear he still wanted to fight her. “I get by.”

  “How?”

  “I think about doing things.” The thumb that had been stroking her jaw shifted to glide across her lower lip. “Like this.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Every nerve ending in her body had somehow altered to begin and end at her lips. Willa felt his caress in her breasts, in her womb…it even left her tingling down to her toes.

  “Zach, maybe we’d better—”

  Before she could finish, he did it again, and instinctively, her head followed the path of his thumb. She parted her lips at his slightest probing, and captured him lightly with her teeth, stroked him with her tongue.

  Zach stiffened and desire flared in his eyes, but he also drew away. “Woman,” he murmured, his voice thick, “I have a feeling you’d tempt a saint, and I’ve never been close to one.”

  She doubted that he’d meant to remind her of that first message from the stalker, but he did. “I didn’t mean to—” She stepped back and shook her head. “This is crazy.” She’d never fallen under such an erotic spell before. Passion, yes, she’d known her share, but to not be able to stop yourself…?

  Zach apparently agreed and put a few more feet between them, then raked his fingers through the tangle of his hair.

  “I’ll tell you and then you’ll leave, okay?”