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  “Oh, yes.” He reached for one of the condoms he’d bought the day after he met her. As he adjusted the latex sheath he felt Mallory’s gaze on him and turned to look at her.

  A smile curved her lips. She ran her hand along the muscles of his thigh. “Kyle promised me drop-dead gorgeous, but he never mentioned sweet or loving or tender.”

  His heart did a funny little flip-flop in his chest. “You bring out the best in me.”

  He started to lift her onto him, but she stopped him. “Try it on top,” she whispered. “I think it’ll be all right now.”

  He hesitated a second, then covered her body with his own, reassured by the trust he saw in the depths of her eyes.

  She spread her legs in welcome and he thrust inside her. A perfect fit. Mallory was where he belonged.

  She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper. With a groan, he surrendered to the fierce clamor of their mutual need.

  He plunged into her again and again, his pleasure sharpened to a keen edge by the knowledge that they were together this time, Mallory’s harsh sighs and ragged breathing as out of control as his own stifled groans and breathless endearments. And just when the pleasure became too intense to endure, the ecstasy too exquisitely painful, he felt Mallory’s muscles spasming around him. As she shouted his name he fell off the edge of the world in a shattering climax of his own.

  Brody woke up in Mallory’s bed with a world-class hard-on and thought for a second he was having another one of those Mallory-in-a-towel dreams when she emerged from the bathroom on a cloud of steam. But then she dropped the towel and curled up beside him, her skin warm and still slightly damp from her shower, and he realized his dream had come true. “I love you,” she whispered.

  I love you, too. He wanted to say the words. It wasn’t a lie. He did love her. But the memory of all his parents’ failed marriages stopped him. How many times had they said those words, then lived to regret them? And what made him think he was any different?

  Mallory pulled away, studying his face. A slight frown knitted her brow. “Something wrong?”

  “No.”

  She chewed at her lower lip. He could tell she wasn’t buying it. “Let me guess. You’re one of those I-don’t-want-to-talk-it-to-death guys. You just want to roll over and get some sleep.”

  “No, but if you want to roll over”—he paused, grinning wickedly—“I’d be glad to show you a few new tricks.”

  Mallory’s eyes widened as his words registered. Then she grabbed a pillow and whacked him over the head.

  Brody ripped the pillow from her grasp and pinned her to the mattress. “First you try to beat me senseless. What’s next on your agenda? Drag my unconscious body out to the Dumpster?”

  “All I have is a trash can,” Mallory protested, laughing helplessly. “You wouldn’t fit.”

  Brody silenced her with a kiss that started hot and was definitely headed toward meltdown.

  The phone rang.

  “Ignore it,” he muttered against her lips. She tasted so damn good.

  “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. Just concentrate on something else. Here. I’ll help.” He brushed his knuckles lightly across her nipples.

  She shivered in reaction but still pushed him away. “No, Brody. I have to get the telephone.” She squinted at the clock on the bedside table. “Nobody calls at six-eighteen on a Sunday morning unless it’s important.”

  “It’s probably your sister calling to ask if you know anything about the red beaded dress she found in Corby’s suitcase.”

  Mallory sat up and reached for the phone. “Or Mom wanting me to chauffeur Great-aunt Bethiah to the airport.” She made a face, then picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello? Yes. What? Would you mind repeating that?”

  “What?” asked Brody.

  Frowning in concentration, she shushed him. “Uhhuh. Don’t worry. I’ll track him down.”

  “Track who down?” Brody pressed closer in a vain attempt to hear the other side of the conversation.

  “Hush.” She whacked him again with the pillow. “No, not you, Kyle,” she said into the receiver. “Brody.”

  “What does Kyle want?”

  “If you’d be quiet for two seconds, maybe I could find out.” Mallory gave him a look. He knew that look. It was the one teachers used to quell difficult students. He slid one hand up her thigh to remind her he was no student.

  She jumped.

  He grinned. “I was being quiet. Lasted more than two seconds too.”

  She wasn’t listening. All her attention was on Kyle. Why the hell was Kyle calling anyway? It was practically the middle of the night. Brody didn’t mess around with Kyle’s love life, so why was Kyle doing his best to screw up Brody’s? Brody studied the tense angle of Mallory’s shoulders, the tightness at the corners of her mouth, and knew suddenly that Kyle wasn’t playing games. Something was wrong.

  “We’ll be right there,” Mallory said, and hung up.

  “Right where?” he asked.

  “The police station.”

  Mallory made Brody drive. She was in no condition to be behind the wheel of a car. Upset as she was, she’d probably run them into a power pole.

  Brody lifted one hand off the steering wheel, reached across, and gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Tell me what Kyle said. His exact words, if you can remember them.”

  “He’s under arrest. The cops think he’s the one behind the burglaries, thanks to a tip from an anonymous informant. They showed up at Kyle’s place with a search warrant and found a pile of stolen merchandise hidden in his carriage house.”

  “How did Kyle explain being in possession of stolen property?”

  “I’m not sure. He didn’t say. He was pretty shaken up. But Kyle didn’t steal anything, Brody.” She spoke earnestly.

  “Then how did it get there?”

  “I don’t know.” She was fresh out of bright ideas at the moment, her brain about as useful as a wad of Silly Putty. She let her head fall back against the headrest. God, she was tired. She felt as if she hadn’t slept for weeks. “He was framed.” Mallory sat up straight. “Yeah, that’s it. Somebody must have framed him.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean ‘why?’ And what’s with all these questions?” She stared hard at Brody’s profile. “You sound like a cop.”

  The corner of Brody’s mouth twitched as if he were trying not to smile. “I am a cop.”

  “Whose side are you on?” She eyed him suspiciously. Didn’t years of friendship count for anything with him? He’d known Kyle for longer than Mallory had. Surely that meant something. He must realize as well as she did that Kyle Brewster didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body.

  Brody pulled into the big lot next to city hall. He parked in the same space he’d used the last time they’d been here. Déjà vu all over again. Something niggled at the edge of Mallory’s mind, but she couldn’t pin it down.

  She hugged her jacket around her, feeling cold. “Whose side are you on?” she asked again.

  “Hey!” He kissed the tip of his forefinger, then pressed it against her mouth. “I’m one of the good guys, remember?”

  Which didn’t really answer her question.

  “I want to talk to Kyle Brewster,” Mallory said for the third time. She spoke quietly, her temper well in check.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible right now.” The faded blonde behind the reception desk sounded like a broken record.

  “When will it be possible?”

  The blonde cracked her gum. “Hard to say.”

  “Okay, then. How about I speak to someone who can say? Who’s in charge here?”

  “Officer Armstrong, but she’s busy right now.”

  Busy grilling Kyle like a trout, she’d bet. “When can I speak to her?”

  Blondie shrugged her linebacker shoulders in a gesture that looked more than a little threatening. “When she’s not busy, I suppose.”

  “Logical.”

&
nbsp; The sarcasm bounced right off the woman’s massive chest. She just smiled vaguely, nodded, and went back to the find-a-word puzzle she’d been working before Mallory’s approach.

  Mallory was so frustrated, she felt like punching someone. Preferably the jerk who had framed her friend, but Officer Regan Armstrong and the blonde behind the counter were near the top of the list too. She’d been hanging around the police station for over an hour now and she still didn’t know squat. And to add insult to injury, Brody had disappeared.

  He’d left half an hour before, saying he had to make a call, but when she’d checked on him a few minutes ago, he wasn’t anywhere near the line of pay phones in the entry and no one out there remembered seeing him.

  Damn.

  She stared at the frosted clerestory windows high on the east wall. Daylight lightened the room, but her thoughts remained a gloomy midnight black. If everything was on the up-and-up, then why were they giving her this bureaucratic runaround? Where were they keeping Kyle, and what were they doing to him?

  She had visions of a bleak, concrete-walled interrogation room. Glaring spotlights. Cattle prods. Okay, maybe no cattle prods, but lots of intimidation, the old good cop/bad cop routine.

  “Mallory?”

  She jumped a good six inches when Brody touched her shoulder. “What?”

  “I have news.”

  She turned to face him. He looked as rotten as she felt. Dark circles ran halfway down his cheeks, his eyes were bloodshot, and he sported some heavy-duty beard stubble. No news is good news. And the corollary to that was c

  Suddenly she didn’t want to hear whatever Brody had to say. “Kyle?”

  He nodded.

  “They really believe he’s behind all the thefts?”

  “The evidence is overwhelming.” Brody sounded tired.

  Her protest was instinctive, immediate. “Overwhelming maybe, but circumstantial. No one saw Kyle steal anything. They couldn’t have because he didn’t.”

  “No one’s accusing him of theft.”

  “Then why is he under arrest?”

  “To be perfectly accurate,” Kyle said from behind her, “I’m out on bail.”

  “Kyle!” Mallory threw her arms around his neck. “I’ve been so worried! Nobody would tell me anything.” She backed away, holding him at arm’s length. “Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

  “We’re not really into police brutality here in Brunswick,” Brody said.

  “I’m fine,” Kyle assured her. He smiled. “Honest.”

  She studied him suspiciously. Kyle was hiding something. She could tell by the way he kept glancing over at Brody. “You didn’t sound fine on the phone.”

  “Well, I’m out now.”

  Mallory frowned. He must know how lame that sounded. What was going on? She could feel the undercurrents in the room, threatening to drag them all under.

  Kyle cast another quick, almost furtive glance at Brody. Didn’t he trust his friend?

  She glanced up at Brody herself, but his face told her nothing. He looked worried, but under the circumstances, who wasn’t?

  Shrugging off her unease, she turned back to Kyle. “I got in touch with your lawyer.”

  He bobbed his head. “Yeah, I know. He’s the one who arranged bail.”

  “Great. But I’m confused. What did they arrest you for,” she asked, “if it wasn’t suspicion of robbery?”

  “We think he’s the fence.” Officer Armstrong’s voice grated on Mallory’s nerves like a rasp.

  She swiveled slowly to face the redhead. “‘We’ meaning you or ‘we’ meaning the entire Brunswick police force?’”

  “Everyone involved in the case agrees.” Her stony gaze locked on Kyle. “Don’t leave town, Brewster. We’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

  “You can put me under surveillance from now until hell freezes over,” Kyle said, “but you won’t see anything incriminating because, dammit, like I’ve been telling you moronic bastards for the last three hours, I’m not guilty.”

  Kyle must be upset, Mallory thought. She’d never known him to use so much profanity.

  A cynical expression settled across Officer Armstrong’s face. “Yeah, and I’d be a millionaire if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that one, buddy.”

  Mallory put one hand on Brody’s arm, another on Kyle’s. “Come on, guys. Let’s get out of here.”

  “You know, Detective c”A nasty, sneering smile bared Regan Armstrong’s prominent incisors, yet did nothing to lighten her expression.

  Mallory shivered.

  “c a person ought to be careful who he’s friends with. When you hang out with the wrong crowd, people start to wonder.”

  “She’s a bitch,” said Mallory as soon as they were out in the Jeep. She wasn’t any more into profanity than Kyle, but when the epithet fit c

  “She’s a cop,” Kyle corrected. “A cop who’s convinced I’m guilty.”

  Brody twisted the key in the ignition, revving the engine more than necessary. “The evidence is pretty damn convincing. Regan wouldn’t be much of a cop if she ignored it.”

  Mallory’s voice rose a full octave in disbelief. “Are you two defending that woman?”

  Brody slammed the gearshift into reverse, backed up, then took off with a squeal of tires. Mallory nearly bit the tip of her tongue off when he bounced them over the speed bump at the exit.

  “Dammit!” Brody swore. “All I said was the evidence was heavily against Kyle. What’s Regan supposed to think when she discovers ten thousand dollars’ worth of stolen property in Kyle’s carriage house? Especially when there’s only one key to the damn place and it’s hanging on Kyle’s key ring. Who has access to your keys, Kyle?”

  Brody ran the yellow light at the intersection of Northwest Fourth and Park Boulevard, narrowly missing being hit broadside by a big cattle truck anticipating the green. He swore under his breath.

  Mallory gripped the dashboard with both hands. She shot a glance at Kyle in the backseat. He looked miserable.

  Brody’s mouth was a grim line. “Well, Kyle? Tell her. Tell her who has access to your keys.”

  Kyle shrugged. “Me. Just me.” He closed his eyes for a second, took one deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “But I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know how that stuff got there. I swear.”

  “I believe you.” Mallory’s voice was warm with reassurance. “And so does Brody. Good grief, he’s known you longer than I have. He certainly ought to know what sort of person you are by now.” She thought hard. “Lots of people could have lifted your keys without your knowing—Dolph, for one, or maybe someone at KBRU. Think, Kyle. Did you loan anyone your keys lately?”

  Kyle buried his head in his hands. “No one.”

  Brody squealed the tires again, taking the left turn onto Eighth Street ten miles an hour too fast.

  Worry sharpened Mallory’s voice. “You’re not taking this seriously, are you, Brody? You don’t suspect Kyle, do you?”

  Brody pulled to a jerky stop in front of Kyle’s house. He looked sick. “I don’t want to, but the evidence c”

  “The evidence speaks for itself.” Kyle spoke bitterly. “Isn’t that what Officer Armstrong kept saying?”

  Mallory was so frustrated, she felt like smacking both of them. “Yeah, and it’s screaming ‘frame-up,’ only nobody but me is listening.”

  Brody leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, not saying anything. Kyle was silent too. They both looked defeated.

  Dammit, couldn’t they see what was going on? “Someone’s framing you, Kyle. I don’t know why, but I bet I know who.”

  “Who?” Both men swiveled in unison to stare at her.

  “Officer Armstrong.”

  Brody tipped his head to look at Mallory. She could tell he liked the idea. “Why, though? Why would Regan Armstrong risk her reputation by framing an innocent man?”

  Valid question. Unfortunately, a valid answer didn’t spring immediately to mind. She shrugged. �
�To get even with you?” His expression told her how unlikely that was. “I don’t know.”

  “Right,” said Brody. “And that’s the problem. Neither do I. Just because you can’t stand someone, that doesn’t automatically make them one of the bad guys.”

  “And just because you like someone,” Kyle said, “that doesn’t automatically make them one of the good guys.” He levered himself out of the backseat and onto the sidewalk. “Thanks for the ride.” The back door shut with a click of finality.

  “Kyle!” she protested, but he ignored her, moving slowly toward his house. She hated the defeated slump of his shoulders, the weary shuffle of his feet. “I’m scared, Brody. I’ve never seen Kyle this down before. Not even when he was having trouble with Dolph.” She clenched her hands together. “We’re his friends. We’ve got to do something.”

  Brody shifted into first, easing away from the curb. “Like what?”

  “Don’t ask me like what?’ You’re the detective.”

  “Only it’s not my case.”

  “Excuse me? You care more about stupid protocol than you do about your friend? This isn’t a joke, Brody. He could end up behind bars if somebody doesn’t do something.”

  Brody shook his head. “I’m not saying I can’t do anything. I’m just saying it won’t be easy, and right now I’m too damn tired to think straight, let alone plan strategy. I need some sleep. I’m on swing today, covering for the sergeant.” He glanced at his watch. “If I push it, I can be in bed by ten. That’ll give me four hours.”

  “But, Brody, Kyle might not have four hours. If someone’s gone to all this work to frame him, they’re not going to stop now. Next thing you know they’ll be ‘finding’ a stash of cocaine in his flour canister or a dead body in his freezer.”

  He yawned. “If they do, give me a call.”

  TWELVE

  Though she would have sworn she was too keyed up to rest, Mallory fell asleep slumped in a corner of the love seat shortly after Brody brought her home. She didn’t wake up until her mother barged through her unlocked front door a little before six that evening.