Free His Partner's Wife by Janice Kay Johnson Page A

day's growth, his eyes likely bloodshot and
his tiredness acute enough to have him swaying as he abruptly swiveled and
stood.
    He grabbed the edge of the counter. "Time to hit the
sack."
    She did just what he was hoping to avoid. She slid from the
bar stool and touched him. "Are you all right?"
    Her hand felt good on his bare forearm, below his rolled-up
shirtsleeve. Warm, soft and, in some indefinable way, womanly. He despised
himself for the shot of heat that steadying touch sent through him.
    He couldn't insult her by backing away. All he could do was
wait until her hand dropped to her side. He sounded a little hoarse to his own
ears when he said, "Just light-headed for a minute. A good night's sleep
will cure me."
    Natalie's fingers curled into fists at her side.
"Yes." This smile looked forced and her gaze slipped from his.
"Of course. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept you up talking."
    "No apologies. I'm the one who dumped my troubles on
you. Actually, talking helped me unwind." He managed a crooked imitation
of a smile. "Maybe that's why I'm so tired now. I talked so damn
much."
    To his relief, her expression relaxed. "I'll have to
try it sometime. But not," she said with a breath of laughter, when he
started to open his mouth, "tonight. I'll see you in the morning, John.
Thank you for … well, everything." Startling him, she rose on tiptoe and
brushed the lightest of kisses on his cheek. Then, with a whisk of the robe,
she passed him and left the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the tiled floor.
    He stood frozen in her wake, conscious of the faint scent
she'd left behind, something flowery that suited her.
    Voice harsh and low, he said, "Damn, damn, damn."

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    Chapter
5
    « ^ »
    " T his is a bad idea ." Geoff Baxter reluctantly backed onto Natalie's porch,
broad face set in a scowl. He had expressed the same sentiment a dozen times
already. He didn't think it was safe for her to move back into the house, he
had said. More than once. What if the killer returned? Aside from which, she'd
be sullying a crime scene. She was in the way. She…
    Mercifully, John had interrupted at that point.
    Right now, if Geoff hadn't been standing with his head
thrust pugnaciously forward, Natalie would have been tempted to thank him one
more time—briskly—and shut the door in his face. As it was, the door would
break his nose.
    John stood a step behind his partner, expressionless. Except
when he was talking to his children, his face had pretty much looked like that
for the past three days. Which was one reason Natalie had been determined to go
home. Obviously, that evening when she impulsively kissed his cheek, she had
stepped over some boundary that defined their friendship. She'd felt the
constraint ever since.
    The two men had insisted on accompanying her, hovering like
nervous parents over a reckless toddler as she put away fresh milk and eggs and
carried her own bag upstairs just to prove to them and herself that she could
walk past the study door without flinching.
    It was closed, sealed with yellow "Do Not Cross"
tape. As was the door to the garage.
    "We think we're done with the study," John had
explained, "but let's give it another day or two to be sure."
    At which point, Geoff had shaken his head morosely.
"Damn it, you shouldn't be back in the house until we're finished with
it."
    With eroding patience, Natalie had said flippantly,
"You guessed! I did plan to peel that tape back and sneak in there
tonight. You know, I always shake out the floor mats from my car in the study.
And then, of course, I have to vacuum and wipe every single surface clean.
Gracious, why don't I just get the shampooer out of the garage and do the
carpet in there while I'm at it?"
    Geoff had flushed dangerously, while John had given her a
look he most likely reserved for one of his kids when they misbehaved in
public.
    She'd thrown up her hands and exhaled in a rush. "I'm
sorry! But you've said yourself there are no fingerprints in the kitchen or