Chapter 9
The two days that they spent together on the island were carefree and warm. After a light cover of morning fog, the late autumn sun would warm the sand, and for the most part the days were crisply cool and invigoratingly clear.
Erin taught Kane how to dig for razor clams along the edge of the tide, and after a few hesitant tries, he became rather adept at kneeling in the wet sand and furiously shoveling after the escaping mollusks. Once, when a particularly large wave caught him off guard and sent him sprawling headlong into the bitter, cold surf, Erin laughed, only to find herself dragged down into the icy water by Kane.
“That will teach you not to make sport of me,” he quipped, before kissing her soundly on her bluish lips. Another cold wave climbed over them, and they both hurried indoors to escape the frigid water and the cool air of autumn. They stripped off the wet, sandy clothes in front of the fire, while warming hot water to clean up the grit from the beach that had clung to their skins.
For most of the two short days, they spent their time beachcombing or taking the boat into nearby Deer Harbor for sightseeing and browsing in the various antiques stores. It was a wonderful time to be together, and by the end of the weekend, Erin found herself more in love with Kane than she ever imagined possible. She hated the thought of leaving the island and dreaded returning to the city, the job and the pressures that always seemed to build between them at home. She enjoyed the freedom that the island provided and loved being alone with Kane, loved touching him whenever she had the desire, and loved kissing him in the light of day, unafraid of what others might think. Disturbingly she wondered if it was such a fairy-tale existence that it could never be recreated, only remembered. All too soon it would end.
During the nights they spread a large sleeping bag on the floor in front of the fire, rather than chancing the well-worn and musty bed in the attached bedroom. They spent hours in front of the fire, talking, laughing and making love until dawn.
It was a glorious, heady experience. The entire weekend was too good to last.
When, finally, after what seemed a short afternoon, the sun began to set against the cold gray sea, Erin found Kane standing studiously on the porch. She had packed together all of her things, and she knew that it was well past the hour that Kane had planned to leave. And still he lingered. He half stood, half leaned against the railing and stared endlessly out toward the broad expanse of the ocean and into the beckoning twilight.
Quietly Erin watched him. She knew that he, too, was hesitant to leave the solitude of the romantic haven that this otherwise miserable excuse for a cabin had provided for them. She lowered her body into the rope hammock, which sagged and groaned against her weight. The noise distracted Kane, and he slowly turned to face her. His eyes were distant; his mind was light-years away. Lazily he leaned against the post that supported the roof of the porch and let his eyes slide caressingly over her body.
“I’mcready to go,” she stated. It was a poor attempt at conversation.
“Are you?” he drawled.
“Everything’s packed. We really should get going.”
“I know,” he agreed reluctantly, and looked longingly once more at the ceaseless gray tide. He spoke softly, as if to himself. “It surprises me that I’m not itching to get back to the office. Usually I’m anxious and just can’t wait to get back behind my desk. But tonight—I don’t know—it all seems so pointless.”
When he faced her once again, his gray eyes moved over her face, as if he were memorizing every contour of her creamy skin. He made a simple statement with measured slowness. “I’m going to buy this cabin. We’ll come back together.”
“I hope so,” she breathed, and wondered why it was so important to her. Unconsciously she clung to the first promise that hinted of a future that they might somehow share together.
* * *
The week that followed was a dismal and lonely time for Erin. As Kane had promised, he refused to keep their affair quiet or in the dark. Although he didn’t actually make an announcement of the fact, his cold indifference in the office had disappeared, and it was with difficulty that Erin had managed to keep up appearances during working hours. His eyes caressed her, and his affection was never hidden. Although inwardly Erin was pleased, she couldn’t help but notice the reaction of the other employees of the bank, the expressively uplifted eyebrows whenever she was with Kane and the accusatory glances that were cast her way when she wasn’t with him. She tried to ignore the gossip that was blazing through the bank, but she couldn’t calm the churning of her stomach.
When Kane had to leave on Wednesday for California, Erin was slightly relieved that the pressure of keeping him at arm’s length at the office would be relieved for a while.
It was on Friday morning when everything seemed to happen at once. Kane’s absence, as expected, had created a little extra work for Erin as well as the rest of the staff, but what she hadn’t anticipated was an outbreak of the flu, leaving the office very shorthanded. Nor had she expected that the bank’s main computer would break down, slowing the month-end posting to a snail’s pace. It was a hectic, frustrating day, and when the telephone rang for what seemed to be the twentieth time within the span of five minutes, Erin couldn’t keep the tight strain of anxiety out of her normally composed voice.
“Miss O’Toole,” she nearly shouted into the mouthpiece.
“Erin?” a familiar voice inquired.
“Mitch? Is that you? I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks,” she exclaimed, and felt a pang of regret that she had answered the phone so harshly. “How are you?” she asked with genuine interest.
“I’ve been better,” was the matter-of-fact reply.
“Oh, Mitch. I’m so sorry,” she began, suddenly at a loss for words. What could she say to him? Any condolence sounded foolish.
“I know, Erin,” he replied as if he really did understand that she still cared for him and considered him her friend.
There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation, before Mitch cleared his throat indecisively and stated the reason for his call. “I was wondering if you would like to go to lunch with me today?” he inquired.
“Oh, Mitch, I’d love to, but I’m absolutely swamped,” Erin replied as she gazed at the stack of unanswered telephone messages that had been growing on the corner of her desk.
“Too busy for lunch with an old friend?” he joked, but the humor fell flat.
“Of course not. It’s just thatcwell, Kane is out of town, and everyone here is down with the flu—including the computer.”
There was a harsh laugh on the other end of the line. “Yeah, well, I get the message” was the curt retort. “Some other timec”
Indecision tore at Erin. She knew that today was the day of Mitch’s arraignment hearing, and she also knew that if the judgment was turned against him, it was unlikely that she would see him again for an indefinite period of time. Kane wouldn’t approve of a meeting with Mitch; Erin was sure of it, and yet he had no control over her friendship with Mitch. For once her reason was cast aside as she thought about the lonely man on the other end of the telephone line.
“Oh, Mitch,” she said suddenly. “I’m sure I can meet with you today,” she choked out. “I’ll just have to make some room.”
“Good!” Was there excessive relief in his voice? “How about Shorty’s at one-thirty?”
“Perfect,” she agreed lamely, and felt herself something of a traitor.
The few short hours until her agreed rendezvous with Mitch flew by, and with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, Erin set out on the short walk to a local pub known for its specialty: barbecued spareribs. Located in an older hotel in Pioneer Square, Shorty’s had become a favorite with some of the employees of the bank, as much for its earthy San Francisco atmosphere as its flavorful food. Erin had been to the restaurant bar with Mitch several times in the past, but today, under the shroud of the allegations against him and the twisted set of circumstances surrounding them, she felt apprehensive about the lunch. Don’t be silly, she chided herself. This is the same old Gay Nineties restaurant, and he’s the same old Mitch. Don’t let any of this talk of embezzlement go to your head. But still her stomach knotted, and without thinking, she pulled her pewter raincoat more closely around her throat and shook off a chill that ran up her spine.
She swung the heavy wooden door inward, and stepped into the dimly lit and secluded restaurant. The tangy odor of honey and tomato sauce assailed her nostrils, and she felt herself relax a little with the familiar aroma. It was forced, but she even managed a smile for the blond hostess who led Erin to a table where Mitch was already seated. She hadn’t seen her ex-boss for over three weeks, and it was difficult to hide her surprise and embarrassment for the shell of a man that Mitch had become. Although more sober than the last time she had faced him, he carried with him a haunted look that destroyed the pleasantness of his face. His features, once bold, appeared gaunt, and his once-bright eyes had faded to a watery blue. A small, thin cigar was burning unattended in the ashtray.
At the sight of Erin, Mitch visibly brightened. His smile, though slightly strained at the corners, appeared genuine as he rose from the table while she was being seated. After she was comfortably settled in her chair, Mitch reached across the small table for her hand and clasped it warmly. “Erin,” he shook his graying head in wonderment. “If possible, you’re looking lovelier than ever!”
“Thank you,” she murmured, and nervously pulled the napkin from the table in an effort to steady her hands. It wasn’t like Mitch to gush, at least not the Mitch she remembered, and his bubbling enthusiasm seemed somehow phony and out of character. The uneasy feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. Perhaps it was the way he didn’t quite meet her gaze, or the way he played with his cigar, but something about him made Erin definitely uncomfortable.
“So,” he said with forced joviality, “how’s it going at the old salt mine? Still as busy as ever?”
He had asked the question, but Erin had the distinct impression that he was totally uninterested in the topic that he had introduced.
“We’re busy—all the time,” she admitted, and when he didn’t immediately respond, she continued chattering to break the uncomfortable silence that was building. “Kane—that is, Mr. Webster, has been out of town for a few days, and well, that just tends to make things all the more hectic for everyone elsec.” Why did she feel compelled to rattle on about the bank, and why did she feel so nervous around a friend whom she had once respected? She wiped her damp palms on the napkin in her lap.
The waiter deposited two platters of ribs on the table, and Erin turned her attention to the saucy food, hoping to dream up a polite way of excusing herself at the earliest possible moment. She knew now that it was a mistake to have met with Mitch; she wasn’t ready to deal with him or any of the problems in his life. Loathing herself for her turn of feelings, she managed to continue to feign interest in her ribs, wondering why Mitchell Cameron had changed so much, and how she could manage an escape from the uncomfortable and intimate lunch.
It was then that Mitch brought up the subject of his courtroom hearing. “I suppose you know that the arraignment hearing is this afternoon?” he began slowly, and lit another cigar. His faded eyes waited to study her response.
“Oh, MitchcI wish that all of this—problem—could be avoided,” Erin claimed, and he could read the honesty in her eyes.
“Yes, well, it’s a little too late for that now, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” she sighed, touching her napkin to her lips and pushing the uneaten ribs aside. Her appetite had diminished. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, just let me know.”
Blue eyes lighted. “There is something.” His voice was bitter cold.
“Oh? What?”
Mitch shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Nothing much.” He shrugged his shoulders and reached inside of his jacket for a neatly folded piece of paper. “I was hoping that you could borrow a little information from the bankc.”
“What?” she asked, perplexed, and ran a shaky hand through her sleekly restrained hair. “Information? What information?”
Mitch waved off her questions dismissively with the clean white envelope. “Well, it’s really not all that important, except that I can’t get my hands on the records, as I’m no longer employed with the bank.” He puffed furiously on his cigar, cloaking his head in a thin veil of blue smoke as he offered her the envelope.
Reluctantly she reached for the paper, as her uneasy stomach began to churn. “This information—what do you need it for?”
“I know it’s rather sudden,” Mitch rattled on, “but I need documents that would help clear my name. Bank records, trust documents, computer printouts on the dividend accounts, stock certificate registrationscnothing all that importantc.”
“You’re not serious!”
“Of course I’m serious. Everything I need is listed in there.” He pointed dramatically to the envelope that Erin was holding. She dropped it onto the table.
“Mitch!” Erin’s cool voice was tightly formal. “Are you suggesting that I confiscate private bank records and give them to you?”
“Not givecI just want to borrow the stuff, until I can get this embezzlement fiasco straightened out.”
“But you know that I can’t do that,” Erin exclaimed. “For one thing it’s against the law. All that information is confidential!”
“Erin!” Mitch interrupted her. “This is my life that we’re talking about. I face more years in prison than you’d want to count!” His eyes beseeched her, but she didn’t waver. She spread her hands against the linen-clad table, and looked him directly in the eyes.
“Mitch, you know I’d love to help you out, but you can’t expect me to do anything illegal, for God’s sake!”
He chewed on his cigar and rolled it from one side of his mouth to the other. All the while, his watery blue eyes impaled her.
“Can’t your attorney subpoena the information that you need? Why come to me?”
“It would be better for me this way, Erin. Otherwise I’d never put you on the spot. You know that. But any information that my attorney subpoenas will be sifted through by the prosecution. If they don’t know about the information until the time of the hearing, I could get the jump on them. You know, surprise the court, confuse the D.A., perhaps avoid the indictment!”
Erin began to shake her head in a negative sweep. “You’re just putting off the inevitable. You can’t expect me to take such a chance. Iccan’tc”
“And I counted on you as a friend,” Mitch spat out with a bitterness that chilled the air.
“I—we are friends.”
“No, you’ve got that one wrong, Erin, dead wrong!” he snapped, waving an angry accusatory finger and his cigar within inches of her face. “We were friends when it was convenient for you—when I was your boss, and I could help you. Especially when that jerk of a husband dumped on you and you needed a shoulder to cry on. But now, when the tables have turned, our friendship seems to be wearing a little thin, doesn’t it?”
Erin drew in an unsteady and disbelieving breath. “You can’t possibly mean what you’re implying. You know that I care for you—I always have—but you’re asking the impossible!”
“Ha!”
“Mitchcdon’tc”
“Don’t what, Erin?” he taunted, all of his hatred coming to the surface. “Don’t overextend your friendship? Don’t ask you to help me, after I helped pull you back together during your divorce? Don’t ask you to do anything that might endanger your fragile relationship with your new boss?”
“What?” she gasped, but the meaning of his words was clear.
“Don’t give me that wide-eyed shocked virgin routine, Erin. It won’t work. Besides, it’s demeaning. I know that you’re Kane Webster’s mistress, and that you’ve been hopping in and out of bed with him since he first set foot in this town!”
All of the color in Erin’s face washed away with Mitch’s cruel words, and little protesting, choking noises came from somewhere in her throat. But Mitch’s vicious tirade wasn’t finished.
“You’re surprised, aren’t you. Well let me tell you this—it’s all over town!”
“No!”
His eyes narrowed evilly. “I never thought you would stoop so low as to sleep with such despicable scum as Webster. But then you’ve never had very good taste when it came to men, have you?”
“That’s enough,” she gasped, finding her voice and her purse at the same moment. “I’m leaving!”
“What’s the trouble, Erin? Am I getting too close to the truth? I should never have promoted you over Olivia Parsons eight years ago. That’s where I made my mistake.”
Erin’s lilac eyes flashed fire. “I’m sure she would agree with you.” She stood and hurriedly pulled on her coat. “I don’t know what it is that’s making you so bitterc.”
“The prospect of prison, Erin. It can be very frightening!”
“I’m sorry, Mitch, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do.” Her poise was beginning to come back to her. She sighed heavily. “But no matter what, if it’s any consolation, I do wish you luck today.”
“Sure you do,” he echoed sarcastically. “Thanks but no thanks. I don’t need your good wishes, Erin. Not now, not ever!”
Erin turned on her heels and didn’t bother to say goodbye. Her back was rigidly straight as she marched to the door and never looked over her shoulder. She felt tears begin to pool in her eyes, but she determinedly pushed them backward. She refused to cry over Mitch, not after the way that he had treated her today. She knew that she was trembling and weak-kneed by the time she reached the rain-dampened streets, but she ignored her weakness and the drizzle that collected on her hair and ran down the back of her neck. A queasy, nervous feeling of desperation was churning in her stomach.
How had Mitch changed so much? she wondered. What had happened to the kind and caring man she had once known and respected? And how—how had he guessed about her affair with Kane? Erin’s mind was spinning in circles, and her face, now covered with drops of rain, had lost all of its color. Her sleek ebony hair had begun to curl in the rain, and tiny tendrils began to spring out of the tidy black knot at the base of her head. She walked along the rain-puddled streets, absorbed in her own distant thoughts for over an hour. With her head bent against the wind, her small fists thrust into the pockets of her raincoat and her jaw clenched at an angle, she hardly looked her pert businesslike self. She felt a burning sense of betrayal that Mitch would stoop so low as to ask her to confiscate bank records secretly for his personal use. How far did friendship reach? How much would he ask of her? Again, she was reminded of Mitch’s initials on the chart showing that Erin had possession of a key that she had never seen. Had Mitch, somehow, tried to implicate her in his crime? Was it possible that she had been wrong about Mitch all this time? She stamped her booted foot impatiently on the sidewalk.
Suddenly aware of the passing time, she hurried back to the bank. She was oblivious to the fact that her usually neat appearance was disheveled from the wind and the rain and that her normally clear eyes were clouded and preoccupied. As she rushed into her office, she paused only to pick up her messages and remind her secretary more curtly than she had intended that under no circumstances, other than a telephone call from Kane, was she to be disturbed.
For the remainder of the afternoon Erin holed up behind her desk, and tried to immerse herself in paperwork. But all her concentration seemed to shift to Mitch, and she found it impossible to forget the hollow look of despair on his face or the nervousness of his hands or his eyes, once clear and blue, now gray and pasty. Erin’s stomach twisted violently as she remembered him and realized just how suspicious she had become of a man she had once trusted completely. Was she being paranoid, or had she been a fool to trust him in the past? She let her forehead drop to her hand, and hoped to God that the afternoon would slide by without any further complications.
The little yellow car couldn’t hurry home fast enough for Erin, and the snail’s pace of the late afternoon traffic as it snarled in the rain only added to her frustration. Maneuvering the Rabbit through the hilly streets of the downtown area of Seattle, she made it to the freeway, but to no avail. Tonight, even the freeways were choked with commuters anxious to get home, semis on their assigned routes and recreational vehicles hoping to get a head start on the wet weekend. As the windshield wipers danced rhythmically before her eyes, Erin sighed, realizing that because she usually worked much later than six o’clock, she had forgotten how difficult and frustrating rush hour could be.
It took her nearly an hour to get home. As she guided her car to a halt she jerked on the emergency brake before racing up the sidewalk and taking the steps to her third-floor apartment two at a time. With unsteady fingers she unlocked the door, hurried into the apartment and switched on the local news. She was too preoccupied to bother shaking the rain from her coat or umbrella.
The sullen-faced newscaster was already making predictions about the upcoming statewide elections as the television snapped on. From habit Erin began to unbutton her coat, but she never let her eyes waver from the small black and white screen that held her attention. At the next commercial break, she managed to slip out of her coat and toss it next to her on the couch just as the dark-haired newsman began to recount the story that was uppermost on her mind: an alleged case of embezzlement at a downtown Seattle bank.
Erin’s eyes were riveted to the set, and nervously she began to bite at her lower lip. As the scene on the television changed to the district courthouse, the eye of the camera sought Mitch and caught him hurrying out of the double doors of the marble courthouse. He was accompanied by a rather short and balding attorney who attempted to protect his client by fending off persistent questions from the group of anxious reporters clustered at the courthouse doors. Mitch, shielding his face with his hands, rushed to a waiting car. Erin only caught a glimpse of her former boss, and she felt a rush of pity for the man as his watery blue eyes darted anxiously back to the attorney before he climbed into the waiting automobile and sped away from the newsmen.
“Yes,” the mustached anchorman was stating, “Mitchell Cameron, once considered one of Seattle’s most prestigious and trusted bankers, was indicted today on seven counts of embezzlement. If Cameron is found guilty, the maximum sentencec” Erin couldn’t listen to the rest of the broadcast. She was too numbed by the chilling realization that Mitch actually had been indicted! Rubbing her temples with her slender fingers, she tried to think rationally—indicted, what exactly did that mean? It took her a few minutes to understand that Mitch hadn’t been found guilty of a crime, at least not yet. But apparently there was enough evidence against him to warrant a serious investigation and a trial. Erin sunk onto the sofa, mindless of the water that had started to collect around her boots on the Persian rug.
The TV continued to talk to her. A picture of the bank building, looking somehow more foreboding in the variegated gray tones of the set, flashed onto the screen. Consolidated First Bank stood out in bold letters, while a reporter recounted the bank’s recent history along with the fact that, within the last month, the ownership of the prestigious building had changed hands. The smug newsman noted that when the president of Consolidated, Mr. Kane Webster, was summoned by the television station to remark on the alleged embezzlement, Mr. Webster declined. He was, of course, unavailable for comment—supposedly out of the state.
Erin had heard enough, and she clicked off the television with cold, numb fingers. Drawing her knees beneath her chin, she wrapped her arms about her legs and sat on the couch, staring at the black Seattle evening through the window. A loneliness settled upon her and she thought about Kane, thousands of miles away in Southern California. The smoky gray drizzle and the heavy purple cloud cover that cloaked the city only added to her gloom. Unconsciously she began to take the pins from her hair, and shake loose the tight, confining chignon. She ran her fingers through her black tresses and rubbed her scalp, hoping to deter the headache that was starting to throb against her temples. If only Kane were here now—perhaps the lonely desperation that was closing in on her would fadec.
She must have been staring into the oncoming darkness for quite a while, but she was too lost in her own black thoughts to realize that time had escaped her. The urgent ringing of the telephone startled Erin back to the present, and she rushed into the kitchen to answer its incessant call. As she spoke, she tried to conceal the note of depression that had crept into her voice.
“Hello?”
“Erin?” a concerned voice inquired.
“Oh, Kane!” She sighed, and let her knees give way in relief. Resting against the counter, she found herself overwhelmingly grateful for the thin wire that stretched the length of the West Coast and tied her to Kane.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and she recognized a tremor of concern in his voice.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s been a long, hectic week without you. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
There was a weighty pause in the conversation before Kane spoke again. “Have you heard about the indictment?” he asked, and his voice seemed to have become suddenly reserved.
“YescI saw the evening newsc.” She hesitated a moment. Should she tell him about her meeting with Mitch this afternoon and his proposition? Erin knew that Kane would be angry and upset when he found out about it, and she reasoned it would be better to tell him face-to-face. A long-distance call was too short and too impersonal. Too many misunderstandings could occur.
“I know that you care a lot about Cameron,” Kane began, wondering to himself why he continued to pursue a subject that only incensed him.
“I did, and I suppose I still docbut, really, it’s okay. This is the way it had to be, didn’t it?”
Why did he feel that there was a trace of hesitation in her voice? His fist involuntarily balled at his side, and his grip on the telephone receiver tightened until his knuckles showed white. It had been a difficult week for him also. Dealing with his strong-willed daughter had proven to be nearly impossible. And the fact that Erin was alone and over fifteen hundred miles away only added to his irritation and short temper.
“Krista and I will be home late Sunday afternoon,” he was saying. “Probably around six. And the moving company has promised to have the bulk of our belongings in Seattle by Monday—or so they claim. What won’t fit into the apartment, I’ll have stored. Will the apartment be ready for us?”
Erin couldn’t hide the disappointment that swallowed her. She had hoped that Kane would be home this evening or, at the very latest, Saturday.
“What? Oh, yes,” she agreed distractedly. “Mr. Jefferies moved out at the beginning of the week, and the cleaning people were here earlier today. I’m sure it will be ready by Sunday eveningc.”
“Good—I’ll see you then.”
“Good night, Kane,” Erin whispered, not wanting to hang up the phone and sever the frail connection that bound her so distantly to him.
“Erin?”
“Yesc”
A pause. “Good night.”
Erin felt an incredible loneliness as she hung up the phone.
“Oh, darling!” Kane murmured to himself as he heard her ring off. He slammed the receiver down in mindless frustration and rubbed his hands together anxiously, all the while leaning against the wall and staring at the clean, white telephone in his sister’s apartment. How was he going to handle his emotions for Erin? God, had it only been four days since he had last seen—or touched—her?
Somehow he had expected and silently hoped that once he had put some distance between himself and her, the miles would erase the goddesslike image of her body and that her likeness in his mind would fade, cooling his hot-blooded need for her. But he had been mistaken, grievously mistaken, and just the reverse had occurred. Instead of forgetting her, the image of her body was burned savagely on his mind and achingly in his loins. He felt an urgency, a driving need, warm and molten, that throbbed against his temples and fired his blood. He had to see her again, and he had to see her soon, or he would surely go out of his mind!
And the lies! Oh, God, how he hated his lies. The duplicity of his situation was eating at him, tearing at him from the inside out. He slammed a powerful fist against the wall. How could he lie to her and to himself? How long could the tense charade continue?
Kane had convinced himself that it would be a good idea to live near Erin, in the same building, in order that he might watch her more closely. But now, as he stood staring at the phone, he knew that it was only his mind playing games with him again. Another lie to justify his urgent need to be near her and protect her.
Protect her? He laughed mirthlessly at himself and reached for the tall glass of Scotch that he had poured before placing the long-distance call. Erin needed to be protected all right, from Kane Webster, from himself! He was the one who continued relentlessly and mercilessly to track her down, stalking her like some wild, criminal creature. He was suspicious of her and too much of a coward to admit it for fear of losing her. A damned hypocritical bastard, that’s what he was, he conceded to himself.
Kane’s hands were shaking from the turbulent emotions that were battling cruelly within his mind. He took a long drink, and groaned as the Scotch hit the empty bottom of his stomach. His thoughts were black and excruciating as he strode into the living room and levered himself down on his sister’s uncomfortable floral couch.
Why couldn’t he just forget about Erin O’Toole and her crazy connection with the embezzling scam? Why did he continue to torture himself with the memory of the gentle curve of her neck, the slim, feminine contour of her legs or the longing way that her near-violet eyes could reach out and touch him?
Damn it, Webster, his persistent mind scolded, control yourself! For all you know that woman is just another two-bit thief, and you’re letting her rip you to shreds! She’s destroying your objectivity! Erin’s a witch, his mind warned, the less you have to do with her, the better!
Kane shifted his weight uncomfortably on the prim blue cushions of the couch and took another long dissatisfying swallow of the potent warm liquor. He needed to break away from Erin and the spell she was casting over him, he reasoned.
Then, why the hell couldn’t he convince himself to leave her alone?