Deadly Contact. Lara Lacombe

and want an explanation, one that she wasn’t able to give. A lump of shame formed in her throat at the thought of telling him about her past. She’d told only one other person about Gary, and her friend’s look of pity and disgust was burned in her memory. She did not want to see that expression on James’s face.

      Moving cautiously, she eased out of the bed and began to gather her clothes. It was still early; the birds had only just begun to greet the new day with sporadic chirps. James would probably sleep in after last night’s activities, but she still tried to be as quiet as possible as she moved around the room. After spotting her socks over by the doorway, she retrieved them and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed to put her shoes on.

      She felt a twinge of guilt as she tied her shoes, but she ruthlessly pushed it down. Leaving was the best thing she could do, both for her and for James. She was damaged goods, and he deserved better. In fact, he’d probably thank her for this later. No one wanted to be saddled with an emotionally unavailable woman with trust issues. Better to make a clean break now, before things got complicated.

      Her heart couldn’t take another blow.

      * * *

      James woke in stages, rubbing his eyes against the pale pink light of dawn that flooded his bedroom. His jaw cracked in a yawn as he stretched, reaching across the bed to pull Kelly into his arms so he could bury his nose in her hair.

      His hands came up empty.

      Awake now, he sat up in the rumpled bed to find her sitting on the edge, tying her shoes.

      “Kelly?” Her name came out as a croak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Everything okay?”

      He reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened at the contact, so he withdrew, alarmed at her reaction. What was wrong? Had he hurt her last night? He quickly reviewed his memories of their encounter, but came up blank. She had been an eager participant, and he had made sure she was satisfied before seeing to his own pleasure. Surely she would have told him if he had done something wrong?

      His stomach dropped as another thought dawned. Did she regret sleeping with him?

      She finished tying her shoes and sat for a moment, not looking at him. The silence between them grew heavy as he took in her appearance—hair pulled back, fully dressed, shoes on. She was leaving, and he was certain she would have left without a word had he not woken up in time to catch her.

      She stood, turning to face him with a heavy sigh. “James, I was just—”

      “Leaving. Yes, I can see that.” Not wanting to have this conversation while naked and lying down, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around his hips as he stood. “Any reason you were sneaking out?”

      She looked down, her cheeks flushing a pretty rose. “I wasn’t sneaking out. I was just leaving quietly.”

      “Uh-huh.” He ran his hand through his hair, wincing inwardly as he felt the bed-head spikes. Putting his awkward appearance firmly out of his mind, he summoned his best interrogation voice. “Why are you leaving?”

      She was silent for several seconds, then spoke in a near whisper. “I just think it’s best if I go.”

      He took a step forward but stopped as she took a small step back. “Kelly,” he said gently, “I don’t want you to go. I’m sorry if I’ve said or done anything to give you that impression.”

      She looked down at the floor again, chewing her lower lip.

      “Last night was special to me,” he continued, slowly moving to stand in front of her. He reached out and tilted her chin up with a finger, and his gut twisted when he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes. She was clearly upset, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done.

      “James, please,” she pleaded in a choked voice. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

      He frowned down at her in confusion. “What’s going on here? I thought we had a great time last night.”

      She nodded, dashing away tears with the back of her hand. “We did. Last night was—it was amazing. I just have to go now.” She moved to walk past him, but he grabbed her arms to keep her in place. She didn’t resist his hold, but she wouldn’t look at him, directing her gaze at his belly button.

      “Kelly, what is this about? Have I done something?” Exasperation crept into his voice as she shook her head mutely. “Then why are you running away? Do you regret sleeping with me? Because if that’s the problem, we can go back to being just friends.”

      A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips before she shook her head again. “I don’t regret it,” she said softly. “Please understand that I need to go. It’s nothing you did.” She met his eyes then, holding his gaze as she repeated her assurance. “You were wonderful. But I can’t stay, and please don’t ask me why.”

      He held her a moment longer, searching her face for a sign or any expression or gesture that would explain her desire to leave so suddenly. She bore his gaze with a neutral expression, as if simply waiting for him to give up his scrutiny. Seeing that she wasn’t going to tell him anything, he released her with a sigh.

      “I don’t know what’s going on with you this morning, but you clearly don’t trust me enough to tell me.”

      She bit her lip at that, and he knew his words had hit home. He studied her for another moment, hoping she’d fill the silence and tell him her reasons for running away, but she remained quiet.

      He stepped back, giving her space to move. She waited until he sat on the edge of the bed before walking to the doorway. She paused at the threshold, and a flutter of hope flared to life in his chest. Had she changed her mind?

      “I’m sorry, James,” she said, her voice wavering. “You’re a great guy, and—” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard before continuing, “And you deserve better than me.”

      Then she was gone, leaving him staring after her in silent confusion.

      Chapter 2

      September

      Professor George Collins strode through the parking garage toward his car, whistling cheerfully as he fished for his keys. He was looking forward to the promise of the weekend, ready to spend some quality time with his wife. Ruth’s oncologist had given them the good news about her remission on Monday, and they were going to a B and B in Annapolis to celebrate. The doctor’s words had lifted a weight off his shoulders, and for the first time in months, George felt as if he could breathe again.

      He stopped next to his car, fingers still searching for the keys. Damn things must have slipped to the bottom of the bag again. He really should just keep them in his pocket so—

      “Evening, Professor.”

      He froze at the smooth voice behind him. Fear skittered across his skin like ants on parade, and his bag fell from his shoulder, hitting the ground with a dull thud. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallowed convulsively a few times as he turned to face the man he had hoped to never see again.

      His visitor cut a dashing figure in black slacks and a tan overcoat, a newspaper folded under his arm. His blond curls were perfectly tousled, and his wire-rimmed glasses lent him an academic air. No one would give this man a second look, much less think of him as evil. George, however, had come to think of him as the devil.

      And it seemed the devil had come to collect.

      “I thought we had a deal,” the man said calmly.

      George forced himself to make eye contact. “What do you mean?”

      “Did you see the headline this morning, Professor?”

      George shook his head mutely in response, not trusting his voice a second time. He knew the man already thought him weak, and his quavering voice would only add to that impression.

      The man unfolded the