Hero in the Nick of Time Read online

  And she was practically brain dead, rushing for the door.

  She was also naked as the day she was born. Horror ricocheted through her as she saw her reflection in a mirror.

  How could she have forgotten she slept in the nude?

  With a squeal, she grabbed the huge crochet throw on the sofa that her sister had made for her, pausing only long enough to wrap it around herself before continuing on.

  From the other side of the door, Cade heard the squeal. He was already concerned that she hadn’t instantly answered the doorbell when he’d rung it. He’d arrived, half expecting her to be standing on her doorstep, waiting for him.

  “McKayla, is everything all right?” he called through the door.

  “I’m coming,” she yelled.

  Annoyed with herself, she fumbled with the locks with one hand as she held on to the sinking crocheted throw with the other. With a heavy sigh, she yanked open the door and stumbled back, admitting him in.

  “I thought something was... wrong.”

  Cade stopped as he turned to look at her. The look quickly transformed into a stare. The wrap she was clutching to her was yellow and white, dipping down low behind her and drooping off to one side. It also left little to the imagination, laying open a great many spaces for a libido to leap in, even one as dormant as his.

  There was no doubt about it. The yellow daisies were not as tightly crocheted as they might have been, and the squares they were nestled in were not as welljoined as the original pattern undoubtedly had called for. The result was that it displayed more than it hid and instantly called a dormant imagination back to active duty.

  Seeing her like this reminded Cade of something that he’d forgotten. That he wasn’t just an investigator, but a man as well. A man who hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time.

  Chapter 7

  “Don’t you think that’s a little chilly for Phoenix this time of year?” Cade finally asked.

  The right thing to do was to ignore the fact that she was apparently underdressed even for skiing in the Alps, but he couldn’t quite get himself to do it. Any more than he could resist letting his eyes sweep over her just once.

  And linger.

  He’d had no idea that her figure was quite that spectacular.

  Though Mac tried valiantly to ignore it, embarrassment was taking a healthy chunk out of her. Feeling uncustomarily shaken, she flashed him a smile, attempting to gloss over her predicament.

  “I overslept.” Pivoting on her heel, she hurried back into the bedroom. “Couldn’t sleep until probably ten minutes ago,” she called out as she disappeared into the other room.

  He resisted the urge to follow her. “Still doesn’t explain the unusual ensemble.”

  “I sleep in the nude.”

  Her explanation exploded into his thoughts, sending them in a whole new direction while leaving his tongue behind. But that was because he’d almost swallowed it. The images her explanation raised also raised his temperature several degrees higher than he was comfortable with.

  Very slowly, he blew out a breath, telling himself that a man his age had no business reacting that way.

  The lecture didn’t help.

  “That would explain it,” he remarked. Given that she hadn’t answered her bell the first two times he’d rung and had hastily donned the teasing throw, Cade figured he’d obviously woken her up. He glanced at his wristwatch. There was no way they were going to get to the airport in time.

  “Um, look—” Cade raised his voice even more, not sure how far it would have to carry “—I can try to rebook the flight.”

  “No!” Hand holding on to the doorjamb, Mac poked her head out of the room to underscore the command. Cade had the feeling that all she was wearing at the moment was her expression. He could feel his gut tightening a notch more, almost cutting off his air supply entirely. “I can get ready in time.”

  He sincerely doubted it, but debating the issue would only steal precious time away, so he said nothing.

  Feeling at loose ends and needing something to keep his hands occupied with, if not his mind, he looked around the room. It was a cozy house, he thought, if the room he was in was any indication what the rest of it looked like. She obviously wasn’t obsessive about keeping things neat. Elaine had been. He’d no sooner put a newspaper down than it was refolded and whisked away, deposited in the recycle stack. A little bit of clutter was comfortable, made a place looked lived in, but his wife had had different views on that.

  He supposed his approval of Mac’s housekeeping methods was just thinly disguised rationalization of his own haphazard methods. He wasn’t very big on cleaning. But to his credit, he didn’t make that much of a mess, either.

  He could see the kitchen off to the left. He figured it was a safe bet that she hadn’t eaten yet.

  Taking a step in the direction of the kitchen, he stopped, not wanting to get ahead of himself here. She might think he had another destination and something entirely different in mind.

  Shoving his hands into his back pockets, he asked, “Anything you want me to do to help you get ready?”

  There was a pause from the other room, as if she was trying to follow him. “You mean, like pull up my zipper?”

  He had no intention of getting that close to her, at least not for the time being. The less physical contact he had with her right now, Cade decided, the clearer he could keep his head.

  He crossed to the telephone instead, positive they had to cancel their tickets and reschedule the flight. That would give him enough time to catch up with Megan and see if she had anything on the leads he’d asked her to follow up on.

  Cade looked around, wondering where she kept her white pages. “No, I was thinking more along the lines of making you a fried egg sandwich.”

  “You can do that?”

  He blinked. The white pages were forgotten. Mac was walking out of her bedroom, slipping on a second dangling earring. There was a pair of shoes, navy to match her suede skirt, tucked under her arm. Barring the two items, she was completely dressed. If she’d hurried into her clothes, she certainly didn’t give that impression.

  “Yeah,” he said, remembering to answer, though the word dribbled out of his mouth as he stared at her in amazement. “Fried egg sandwiches are my specialty. How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  Sidestepping her coffee table and the telephone, he crossed to her. She looked like the up-and-coming executive of some pricey company. He’d expected her to come out wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

  Despite what she was wearing, he couldn’t get the image of Mac and the slipping crocheted throw out of his mind.

  They were talking, he suddenly remembered. And it was his turn. Struggling, he focused. “Get dressed so fast.” Her explanation about acting came back to him. “Or is that something else you learned to do to avoid your father’s suspicions?”

  Halfway to the front door, Mac stopped and turned to him. She had no idea why, but she fluttered her eyelashes at Cade, murmuring, “Why, Mr. Townsend, what kind of a girl do you take me for?” in her best Tennessee Williams wanton-heroine voice.

  For the second time in the span of less than ten minutes, Cade found himself robbed of the ability to form coherent words. Collecting himself, he attempted a graceful retreat. Even as he opened his mouth, he knew he was doomed to go the graceless way.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to imply...that is, it’s none of my business....” He tried again, pouncing on the only thing that appeared to be a given. “Are you ready to go, then?”

  She was flattered, Mac realized. In the middle of a highly charged, emotional situation that demanded her full attention, she was flattered. Flattered by the attention of a man who she’d wager didn’t spread his attention liberally.

  Not the time, or the place, she told herself.

  The feeling didn’t leave immediately.

  Grabbing her purse and picking up the small travel bag she’d thrown together last night, Mac anno
unced, “Yes,” and then made it to the front door before Cade did.

  “Don’t you want to lock the front door?” he called after her.

  She turned, but remained where she was. “It’s self-locking. Let’s go.” She made a beeline for his car.

  She had to wait for him to unlock the door. Sliding into the passenger seat, Mac let out her first long breath, trying to calm down a little. She disliked flying, and boarding the plane feeling this way wasn’t the best idea.

  It had been a challenge, getting ready so fast. She couldn’t remember ever having gotten completely dressed in under five minutes before, not even on the mornings she’d overslept during her days at the dorm.

  But then, there was a lot more at stake here than just a good grade or maintaining a stellar GPA for the sake of her own pride. And because she’d wanted to prove herself to her father.

  Mac turned to look at Cade as he started the car. He looked a little like she felt. Mac couldn’t help wondering why.

  “You look a little dazed around the edges.” Was there something he wasn’t telling her? “Anything wrong?”

  Taking a shortcut out of the development, he bypassed the main thoroughfare. This time in the morning, it was sure to be snaried. The key word through didn’t apply.

  “No, I just never knew that hurricanes could assume human form.” He spared her a glance before turning his attention back to the traffic. “Most people take longer to sign their name on a check than it took you to get ready.”

  She shrugged. It would have been nice to have gotten a shower in, but that was the price she paid for the kind of night she’d had. “I didn’t want to miss the flight.”

  Even the best of intentions could only speed a person up so much, Cade thought. The fact that she could get ready faster than the average person took to drink a cup of coffee put her in a class by herself.

  He had no idea why the thought of her moving fast seemed to naturally hook up to his wondering what she was like in bed. If making love with her was like trying to catch the wind in his hands. Or like being sucked into the middle of a Missouri twister, circling around in its funnel.

  Not that the question—or its hypothetical answer—had any bearing on anything, least of all the case, he reminded himself.

  He kept his eyes on the road and tried to keep his mind on avoiding the traffic in order to reach the airport in time.

  “Did you call your friend?”

  The question severed his concentration in half. “Hmm?”

  “Your friend—the man you thought might connect you to someone in Phoenix—” she prompted. She couldn’t remember whether or not he’d mentioned a name.

  A glance from him had the color rising along her neck again. Mac didn’t have to look in the mirror to know it was there, she could feel it. It was almost as if she could read his mind. He probably thought she was some sort of eccentric, answering the door wearing something that belonged on the back of a sofa.

  Coming to a stop at a red light, Cade looked at her. Watching the color creep up almost made him forget his answer. He’d never thought of a blush as captivating before. Hadn’t even thought someone as vital as McKayla was even capable of blushing. It was obvious that she wasn’t quite as brash and pushy as she wanted people to believe she was.

  “Oh, yeah. I called Kane. He gave me the name of a Lieutenant Graham Redhawk.”

  She nodded. “He’ll be able to help us?”

  Cade gave her only the facts, not wanting to mislead her with false information or hopes. “Well, he did when Kane was tracking down a black-market baby ring.” He recalled the newspaper story. Kane had headed up the task force after a rash of kidnappings had broken out between here and Phoenix. But this situation wasn’t exactly the same.

  Black-market baby ring. Mac hated the way that sounded, but each time the subject was raised, it became more of a viable possibility to her.

  “Is that who you think took Heather?” Her lips dry, she slid her tongue across them unconsciously. “A professional kidnapping ring?”

  “Not the same group...” Cade began to point out, but then, now that he thought of it, who knew? Just because one head of the monster had been struck off didn’t mean that another one hadn’t grown in its place, or sprung up somewhere else, for that matter. “But it’s a strong possibility.” He saw a parking space and went for it. The airport lot was too full to pick and chose. “We need to keep an open mind on this.”

  “Open, closed, I don’t care,” Mac told him, trying to curb impatience that periodically flashed within her like an unexpected frying pan fire. “All I want is Heather back.”

  Cade pulled up the hand brake with a jerk. “We’ll get her back,” he promised.

  Mac wanted to ask how he could sound so sure, but if she did, she was afraid that the fragile bubble that she’d surrounded herself with would burst.

  Getting out of the car, Mac shook her head. She would have never thought she was the type to need nebulous assurances, the type who was willing to take up residence in a castle in the sky without carefully checking the foundations. But in this case, she’d moved in, lock, stock and barrel, without so much as a cursory glance at the underpinnings. Deliberately avoiding so much as a look in their direction. All she required from Cade was periodic reaffirmation of the same vague statement he’d just given her.

  She clung to it like a security blanket. Until there was more to go on, it was all she had.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she murmured as they raced for the proper gate.

  “Anything?” Balancing a cardboard tray containing food from a nearby take-out place, Cade asked the question as he nodded toward the door on the driver’s side of the car he’d rented at the airport three hours ago.

  Mac leaned over and opened the door for him, then sat up again. Sitting down, Cade precariously placed the tray between them.

  His legs protested as he took up his post again. They had been sitting here, across the street from the law office of Phillip Taylor, the man the kidnapper had called from her Bedford hotel room, for the last three hours. They had come here straight from the airport, partially on Mac’s insistence.

  From the looks of it, they were destined to maintain their vigil for another three hours, if not more.

  “No,” Mac answered with a sigh. “Nothing.”

  Though she’d agreed when he offered to get her something, Mac wasn’t particularly moved by the thought of eating anything. Her stomach was too tied up in knots. She deposited the yellow-wrapped offering Cade had just handed her on the dashboard, satisfying herself with a sip of the soda.

  Her eyes ached from staring at the doorway. People had come and gone all day, but none of them bore even a faint resemblance to the woman in the sketch.

  Normally, Cade enjoyed Mexican food, even the junk-food kind. But this time he ate without tasting, his attention cornered by the woman beside him. She was fidgeting, even though she wasn’t actually moving. He could feel it.

  Finishing the enchilada, he balled up the paper. “You don’t do waiting very well, do you?”

  She laughed softly under her breath. “Does it show?”

  Despite the soft music coming from the radio he’d left on, tension filled the interior of the car. “Only in a really big way. Other than that, no.”

  Mac looked at him, searching his face for telltale signs she’d become accustomed to seeing on other people. “Am I getting on your nerves yet?”

  “No, why? Is there a time limit on that?”

  She shrugged carelessly, thinking that maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. It was just that she didn’t want to get on his nerves. So far, he’d been very accommodating. She didn’t want to repay him by being a pain. If there was more to it than that, she wasn’t willing to explore it.

  “No, it’s just that I have my own way of doing things– ” She looked away. She was better off watching the small office building, she thought, than letting her mind wander.

  Cade laughed. There was
that gift for understatement again. “I noticed.” He stuffed the yellow paper into the empty bag, thinking that maybe he should have gotten two orders for himself. Breakfast seemed a long way away.

  “Yes, so do most people, and it gets on their nerves. I was just wondering if I had gotten on yours yet.”

  “No, not yet. I’ll let you know when.” She flinched, her eyes darting to him, when his cell phone rang. She made him think of a powder keg, about to take off. “Relax, it’s probably just Megan.”

  At least, he hoped it was Megan. With any luck, she was calling with a little positive feedback. He could use some about now, as well as something to take his mind off the fact that he was sharing a very small space with a very vibrant woman.

  “You’re expecting her call?” Mac asked, running her hand along the back of her neck.

  “Yes. I called her earlier, asking her to run some things down for me.”

  He’d left the message on Megan’s answering machine in the office, hoping to catch her at some point, preferably early in the day. They each contributed something different to ChildFinders. Sam brought his multitude of connections, and Megan brought her considerable computer expertise. While he, Cade supposed, was the heart of the organization. He liked to think he was what drove it toward its excellent track record.

  “Hello?”

  Glancing at him again, Mac could tell from the easy smile sliding over his lips that he’d been right in his guess. It was Megan. Mac had trouble drawing her eyes away from his smile. It was warm and incredibly comforting. She didn’t begin to speculate why. That was better left untouched.

  So instead, she watched the stucco-and-wood building across the street and listened to Cade.

  “You can? Megan, you’re a doll. I owe you one. Okay, three,” he amended.

  The note of easy camaraderie caught her ear, making her feel somewhat envious. What did it feel like, being that comfortable with someone? Was there someone in his life he was completely at home with? Had that been why he’d backed off when she’d kissed him yesterday? Because he felt loyalty to another woman?