Formula for Murder (27 page)

He rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes dreamily. “Sounds like heaven. Your quiet little place would be perfect tonight. Maybe Michael and Sloan had the right idea. Let’s get away from here.”

“How soon can we leave?”

“I’ve still to deal with Michael and the journal. I’m picking up Santora now and we’re meeting at Michael’s apartment. He said he’d have read the journal by then and we’ll know of its relationship to the murder. Burrows is meeting us there.”

“As much as I’m curious, I think I’ll go back to my place and start cooking. Will you come and tell me as soon as you know anything?”

“Absolutely! Burrows is escorting Covello to the airport as soon as we’re finished with our meeting. Mark is going too. I’d just be in the way and I’ve had it with this whole mess right now. I need a break. Once we hear about the journal I’m done for the day. I’ll be there by six o’clock.” He kissed her quickly on the lips and rushed off.

Nick marveled at the casualness of the move, almost as if it had been second nature.

Chapter 25

When letters are unrecognizable, it can mean a blurring of the truth or a desire to confuse.

“Handwriting, an Analysis Through Its Symbolism” by Rudolph Hearns

Michael had indeed made up for his disappearance, spending the last few hours combing the journal for anything helpful. He struck out on all fronts. He reported to the group that he’d studied it for it’s scientific merits, for conclusions, and once again for any clues that might be lurking between the lines and found nothing.

Burrows relaxed in the corner, quietly listening to Michael outline the pertinent information. He appeared mellow and unconcerned. Nick already knew better than that. He’d pierced Burrows façade earlier and knew he was absorbing not only Michael’s information but also his character and the worth of his words.

“OK, you’ve given us the basics of the research in layman’s terms. What makes you so sure it has no merit?” Burrows queried.

Dr. Abbott’s work is well documented,” Michael said. “There can be no doubt about what he has done and the results. But he has not bridged the gap that scientists have been striving for over the years. It’s not so much that his work is inconclusive as that his conclusions prove nothing.”

Santora nodded while paging through the journal himself. He’d never actually seen it until now. Charlie was too private a person and too tight about his research to share it with anyone. Even students working with him complained that they had no clue how their part of the project would fit into the whole. Santora had always felt that it was an ineffective way to teach but then Charlie had tenure long before he himself had come on board.

Although some of the letters were blurred, Michael followed enough to believe no one would have been interested in those notes or felt they were worth killing the professor over. He added that there was no suggestion of possible hidden agendas, no codes, no secret list of names. Nothing as far as he was concerned that could have led to the murder.

“I’m not a detective mind you, but that’s what I see.”

Nick enjoyed the peaceful drive to Kat’s home. He’d rushed once the session was over with Covello. Disappointed that there was no lead in the journal, he made a quick trip home for a shower and stopped for some wine before heading out of town. The meandering country road was in sharp contrast to the speed and secrecy of his past travels. It soothed. But not as much as the sight of Kat. She welcomed him with a bright smile and a dress that lit up his insides. It was casual, but clung in all the right places, and he admired her curves as she turned on her strappy sandals and walked across the gleaming hardwood floor to the kitchen. He smiled, thinking she’d instantly know if a shoe was a Manolo Blahnik or a Jimmy Choo, but he was lucky to even remember the names, let alone the models.

After pouring drinks she showed him her glassed-in porch and they settled on a comfortable sofa to watch the sun begin its descent in a blaze of glory. Kat was also disappointed with the news. In unspoken agreement they left the office behind, and the murder, and began exploring a mystery of their own making.

She made a gentle foray into his past and he countered with questions about her life. Animated and lively, she flipped out words with enthusiasm and spirit. He offered a comment and she agreed with a pleasing grin. Her own personal scent mixed with the Navy perfume she wore, caused a falter in his questioning, but he continued to play the game.

She left for a moment to tend to the food. Nick let the view ease the tension from his shoulders. He liked her yard. Dusk mellowed the contours. The landscape barely showed any lawn but the paths wandered aimlessly through natural looking beds of trees and shrubs turned crimson with autumn. He reluctantly left to offer support in the kitchen.

Much of dinner had been prepared earlier, but Nick helped her turn the veal chops and mix the salad. She’d prepared a superb combination of foods. In between helping, he threaded his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans, leaned against the kitchen counter and watched her work.

Kat balanced a pitcher of water on the plates, settled everything on the table, and scowled at the worn tablecloth. She wasn’t into much entertaining although she enjoyed cooking; providing a formal dinner on short notice made her palms sweat. She wouldn’t allow herself to question why she felt the need to make this such a formal, special dinner. She knew Nick would have accepted potluck with a smile.

Nick helped her place the rest of the dishes. He didn’t notice the worn tablecloth but appreciated the romantic glow of the candles and the work she’d obviously put into helping him relax after that terror of a day.

She deftly served the mesclun greens with creamy parmegiana dressing, followed by roasted apple fettuccini and the grilled veal chops. The banana cream pie was safely tucked away in the corner as the pièce de résistance.

Nick sensed her tenseness but couldn’t discern the cause. He lifted his fork but before he tasted anything, questioned teasingly, “This isn’t any of your health food stuff is it? No vinegar lurking behind the fettuccini or something? No miracle powders sprinkled on the greens?”

She attempted to laugh it off and not let her defensiveness rule the moment. “Why would I do something like that to great food?”

He began to list all the incidents of her aiding students, or himself, from the itch creams to the vinegar tea. Fortunately, before she could respond, he forked some of the salad into his mouth and moaned in delight.

She chose to smile and watch.

When he tried the fettuccini and practically purred she felt vindicated. He swallowed and murmured, “This is ambrosia.”

She smiled again and slowly brought the wineglass to her lips. She sipped delicately, admiring his nicely sculpted arms while he ate. He took another appreciative bite and sighed over the combined scent and taste. “I’ll never say another word about your health food.”

He’d seen her watching him and mirrored her look, wondering what it would be like to nibble on those wine-touched lips.

She poked at the veal, hunting for the tastiest looking bite. It was safer than looking up into his eyes and seeing the need reflected there. Her fork searched her plate in what became an all-consuming task. Was she supposed to respond to that look? Could she resist? Could she trust him? Would he ever confide more information about his past? Her thoughts bounced around, keeping her tongue silent.

They’d agreed to not ‘talk shop’ but suddenly she couldn’t think of anything else to say. He finally rescued her by mentioning how peaceful he’d found her garden.

She thanked him for the comment. “That was the intent. I was looking for something to soothe. I found that even the work of creating it caused that feeling.”

He nodded, tackling more of the veal while she talked. There was no doubting his sincerity over enjoying the food. She was glad she’d made the effort.

They talked more easily. She spoke of finding the house and the need in her soul for such a place. He talked about his dreams and his confusion was clear. He wanted disparate things in life. He enjoyed the travel and adventure of his old job, though he wouldn’t talk much about it. He wanted a home, envied her hers, as well as her certainty that the home and her life were right for her.

They cleared the table and she made the coffee as they talked more. She brought out the banana cream pie and he promised her undying love. She was pleased, but hid the fear that it was only said jokingly and turned her back to fill the dishwasher, hoping he hadn’t seen her thoughts on her face.

“We need to make plans.”

She jerked around when he said that, but couldn’t read his expression as he walked back to the table on the porch, pie in hand. He returned for the plates and silverware.

“What do you mean?”

“As much as I’ve enjoyed the interlude, I’m worried. We have no new leads on this case. We closed out one more possibility with the journal. But that still leaves us with a killer and you in danger for an unknown reason. I’m baffled, and I’m worried.” He spoke while he dished out the pie, not looking worried at all, and she was confused. Where was he leading?

She served the coffee, saying nothing. Hoping he would clarify. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself jumping to conclusions. He studied her while he slowly sipped from the warm mug, obviously looking for some reaction to what he’d said.

His smoldering looks belied his relaxed posture as he waited. Was she supposed to answer a question she hadn’t heard? Or a look that defied a simple response? Were they talking business here, or were they on a more personal level? Kat drank her coffee and met his eyes almost defiantly, challenging him to clarify what she saw in them. It was a mistake. With one look into those aquamarine pools, she not only lost the challenge; she forgot where she was.

He rose.

She watched his lean muscles ripple beneath his shirt. When he walked behind her she thought he was just moving to catch the view. When he nuzzled the back of her neck it was an instant mind drain. There was nothing but the touch, the sizzle, Nick. She was standing and turned in his arms without knowing how. Without caring.  His hands possessively played down the sides of her body, noting the curves with due reverence before moving on. Her breath was unsteady as his lips skimmed her throat and captured her mouth.

Fire sparked everywhere, igniting and burning in a flash. She was gone and hadn’t even touched bare flesh. As that thought skimmed through her mind she realized how much she wanted to touch and be touched. By the time the thought registered they were next to her bed. He deepened the kisses, drawing all air from her and leaving a void for the conflagration to fill.

He’d been anxious to remove that dress since he’d seen her in it, but moved cautiously, slowly, nibbling his way with kisses. She held tightly to her senses long enough to reciprocate and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants and tugged downward. He caught her by the elbows and raised her up before he lost it completely. This would be tenderness and pleasure like none she had before, he vowed, as he drugged her again with kisses and stretched beside her. Her body became a shrine. She became the sacrificial offering as she went up in flames. And all he’d done was worship her with his mouth, outlining the curve of her shoulder, the sensitive angle of her elbow, the hollow beneath her knee.

It pleasured him to stroke her till she moaned, to sip from the sweet lips she offered. While he explored the sensations she created in him, she tried to mentally withdraw, to seek control. but a quick flick of his tongue across her lips confirmed that she had no control, and wanted none.

When he eased up for a minute she was able to stroke in kind, follow the muscles she’d only viewed from a distance, and relish the firmness beneath her palms. The sheets rustled and they moved, sinuously around each other. As he slid within her, their eyes and hands also locked, sealing their connection with a wordless vow before the flames engulfed them both.

His day started high
and crashed quickly on the rocks. He awakened in her bed, in her arms, and discovered they’d forgotten to set the alarm. Late for his meeting, he only managed a quick kiss and an “I’ll call you.” Not at all what he longed to say or do. As he ran out she sleepily shouted after him, “You should at least grab a hard boiled egg. You need the wake-up chemicals in the amino acid tyrosine before your meeting.”

Now, as he stomach growled for want of breakfast, Nick laughed. Good old Kat. He’d have to adjust to her healthy attitudes. Might not be a bad idea, he vowed, as his stomach growled again. G. L. was on the phone and on his case. The detective was having trouble keeping track of Kat. He’d complained before. This morning Nick only had time to renew his promise to feed G. L. her schedule as much as possible.