Would Tamara Sterling respect anything else?
Her hesitation was her answer.
Her tone crisp and cold, Tamara asked, “Is that your full report?”
Kip returned the papers to her briefcase, feeling two inches tall. “That’s all.”
Tamara said nothing as Kip closed her case and turned to the gangplank. As she stepped over the lip to leave the deck, Kip skidded a little, nearly losing her grip on her briefcase.
Tamara steadied her with a firm grasp on her wrist.
“I’m fine,” Kip muttered.
Tamara’s words seemed wrenched from her throat. “I’m not.”
Kip gazed up at her, her breath coming in short gasps. There was no light in the gray eyes, only a dark hunger that both frightened and inflamed her. She could not want her and yet she knew she did. She looked down at where Tamara’s hand circled her wrist. It was a conscious decision to turn her palm over so she was no longer captive, and their contact was now obviously by her choice as well.
Her briefcase clattered to the deck as Tam pulled her close with a throaty groan. The power of her grasp was surprisingly strong—Kip had the feeling Tam would have no trouble lifting her off her feet. The thought was forgotten as Tam’s rough gasp of surprise and desire was matched by her own.
She arched against her, heedless of the alarms that went off in her head. Her brain wasn’t in control anymore. Her arms wrapped around Tam’s shoulders of their own accord, and her mouth opened to the demanding pressure. The sweatshirt did not mask the pounding of Tam’s heart and Kip felt hers match the ever-quickening beat.
94
Kip groaned when they broke that long, incredible kiss, then she kissed her again, hard and quick. Tam’s hands were caressing her back and ribs as if she wanted to commit the feel of her body to memory.
This was wrong—her boss, it was wrong, a suspect, it was so wrong. All her hard-fought adherence to a code of ethics did not allow for this passion to exist, but it did. She buried her face in Tam’s neck as cool hands slipped under her sweater. She didn’t know how she could compromise herself this way and hope to have any honor left. She wanted Tam no matter what she might have done, yet having her was as painful as not having her.
The Tamara Sterling that Kip wanted so badly to believe existed couldn’t respect Kip for this moment even if Tamara Sterling the woman was enjoying it.
Tam whispered, “Don’t cry,” before Kip realized she was whimpering. “I’m sorry. This was my fault.”
“It’s not just you,” she whispered. “But this isn’t going to happen.” She knew if they didn’t stop now she would be asking for more than kisses. The cold air chilled her tears on her lashes as she stooped to recover her briefcase.
“No, it isn’t.” Tam said nothing more.
She managed to stride down the pier, her head up as if tears weren’t again spilling over her cheeks. She even managed a mocking salute when she reached her car, not sure it could been seen. She could not make out Tam’s body in the darkness but her own body told her Tam was still there, still watching her.
95
Chapter eIght
Tam watched Kip’s taillights disappear at the top of the marina ramp. She stayed in the frigid air for several more minutes, trying to make it the equivalent of the cold shower she badly needed.
What had she been thinking? Had she wanted comfort from Kip so badly that she’d been willing to compromise her to get it? Kip had cried—she could still feel her tears on her neck.
Dinner had been both a pleasure and a torment. She could see that Kip doubted her and it had at first stung, then burned.
She’d wanted to erase the doubts, but—damn, she’d been a fool.
Her fingers clenched on the rail. She should not have expected Kip to dismiss her as a suspect on her say-so. She should not have expected Kip to be less than she was. So why was she shaken by Kip’s lack of trust? Intellectually, she understood why Kip was suspicious of her—it was her job. Her excellence at her job was why Tam had picked her and respected her. Then she had taken 96
all of that and forgotten it in order to hold Kip close and feel her warmth.
As her thoughts turned over and over she forced herself back to the things she could do something about. Someone had expertly helped themselves to almost seven million of SFI’s dollars and if Kip Barrett thought it a possibility that she had done it, others would too. Well, she knew it wasn’t her. She needed to look at their upcoming dockets and find the most likely people on trial with the scruples to try to bring down SFI to save themselves jail time for their crimes. The answer was there, and thanks to Kip—lovely, tenacious, honor-bound Kip—she at least had an idea where to start looking.
Whoever had tampered with the security settings to allow more people into the secure accounting area had probably left tracks on pathways that Tam knew very well. Plus, a simple printout of personnel not assigned to accounting that had accessed the accounting area with their keycards could spot the inside accomplice. She could pull that data without anyone knowing. Inadmissible, true, but she didn’t need admissible data to form her own theory of the crime.
She glanced at her watch—it was just past nine. There was time to do a good night’s work.
It took an act of will to lock up the boat and leave. She wanted a stiff drink, badly. Kip Barrett was not allowed, not the reality of her, not even the idea of her. Kip had her job to do and it was difficult enough without kisses getting in the way. The work, she told herself. The work is all that matters.
At first Kip simply drove. She turned randomly and found herself crossing the GW Bridge, then onto Westlake. Aurora would be faster, but all she could do was drive.
Her body trusted Tam, so did her heart. Giving into the moonlight or the chocolate or whatever that was—her head didn’t agree it was okay. Her mind, in fact, was hopping mad at 97
her arms, wrapping so eagerly around a suspect.
Where’s your sense, girl? She could remember every word of the only time her grandfather had scolded her. He would know what to do—and she didn’t even need to ask. She knew what to do about her body and heart, and that was control them. She wasn’t an adolescent, and just because she was burning didn’t mean she got to play with fire.
After several blocks, she sped up for a green light and decided to turn. She wouldn’t have noticed the headlights that made the same turn if not for the slight squeal of the heavy sedan’s tires.
She made a couple more turns and ended back on Westlake.
She thought she saw the same headlights come into her rearview mirror. The left-hand low beam was directed slightly more groundward than the right. Even as she told herself not to be paranoid she was turning off Westlake, this time going all the way over to Aurora. The lopsided headlights followed. They followed her all the way south to Broad Street, where she zipped onto Westlake again. The hair on her arms stood up. It looked like a late-model sedan from here, tan or white.
She didn’t think it was in the least paranoid to link this pursuit to her investigation, but who could know about it? Who would be scrutinizing her and Tamara? Again, horses not zebras.
It was far more likely that a couple of punks had spotted a woman driving alone and thought they’d have some fun scaring her or worse. The sedan gained on her at each stop sign—not exactly threatening, but not falling back. They’d have to know she knew they were there by now, but they hadn’t tried to trick her. They must think she was stupid enough to lead them home.
She sedately drove down from the peak of First Hill. At a less tense moment she would have savored the glitter of lights stretching below her. She made a couple of quick turns and pulled into a mall parking lot, still disgorging the last shoppers of the day. She abruptly turned right down a row and zipped past a car in the process of backing out, earning an angry honk and gesture from the driver. The driver resumed backing out—no room for the sedan to get by. Kip hooted at her success.