Page 44 of Mile High Mystery

He shook his head. “No. I never talk about Camille with people.” Only with Shelby. He looked away, trying to control his emotions. “I miss her,” he said. “I thought maybe after a while I wouldn’t miss her so much, but I still do.” He didn’t think of calling her every day, the way he had for a while, but there was still an emptiness inside his chest when he thought of her.

“I do, too.” Her eyes met his, and he saw his own pain reflected there.

He couldn’t keep looking at her this way. It made him too unsettled, wanting things he shouldn’t. He stood, and she rose also. “Was she really happy there, in Maryland?” he asked.

“I think so. I mean, none of us are happy all the time, but she had a job she enjoyed and friends, a nice house. I thought she was pretty well settled.”

“How did the two of you become friends? I know you said you questioned her about the Chalk brothers, but it sounds like you stayed in touch after that.”

“We just really hit it off,” Shelby said. “We were about the same age, and she was easy to talk to. She was so smart and thoughtful, and she was a risk-taker. I guess we had that in common.”

“I guess you don’t get into law enforcement if you’re the type who always wants to play it safe.” He glanced at her again, and she was looking at him, head tilted to one side, as if she was studying a painting or statue. What was she seeing? Was he Camille’s brother to her? A potential witness who could contribute to her case? A guy who had lost his sister, someone she felt sorry for? A man she wanted to know better?

“She talked about you a lot,” Shelby said. “She said people underestimated you because you were such a big guy. They sometimes treated you like a dumb jock, when you were really smart.”

He shook his head. What she said wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t like he was a genius or anything.

“She said you were really funny, too, with this dry sense of humor and a deadpan delivery. She told me so many stories. I felt like I knew you even before I met you.”

Camille could have told her some stories, all right. “She probably told you all my most embarrassing moments.”

“Only the endearing ones. She never told me anything bad.”

“I let her take all the heat from the Chalk brothers,” he said. “I never admitted I was waiting for her that night at the pub.”

“You did it for your parents. And for her.”

“Maybe. But it was also easier not to get involved. When I saw what the prosecution put her through on the stand, I was glad that wasn’t me up there being cross-examined.”

“I read the trial transcripts,” Shelby said. “She did a great job.”

“She did. And then afterward...” The familiar vise squeezed his chest. He would never forget the FBI agent telling them that Camille was dead. That moment still replayed itself in his nightmares. His sister had vanished from his life at that moment, even if her real death had occurred four years later.

Shelby rose and put her hand on his arm. She had small hands, and her touch was delicate, but he felt the heat of her seeping into him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry we put you through that pain. Not once, but twice.”

He shrugged. “Camille agreed to it.” Maybe later he would wrestle more with that idea—that Camille had played a part in deceiving him and his parents. She had always thought she knew what was best, but had she, really?

“She agreed,” Shelby said, “but I don’t believe it was easy for her. She wanted to protect you all.”

“And it cost her everything.”

He met her gaze again, and she moved closer, until they were almost touching. Her hand was still on his arm, and she brought her other hand up to grip the other arm, as if she might shake him. Maybe she was going to tell him to snap out of it, to quit moping and get on with his life. Other people had said as much.

But instead of scolding him, she pulled him close and laid her head on his chest. He slid his arms around her and returned the embrace, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming—sadness and regret and a rush of desire a confusing cocktail surging through him. The perfume of her hair, gently floral, surrounded him, and her breasts, soft and rounded, pressed against him. He slid his hand along her spine, tracing the fine bones, down to the dip above the curve of her backside. She must be feeling how much he wanted her, and he expected her to pull away at any moment.

Instead, she tilted her head to look up at him again, her eyes half closed, her lips soft and parted in invitation.

He kissed her, pausing when his lips met hers, giving her time to pull away. Instead, she returned the caress and brought one hand up to cradle the back of his neck, urging him closer still.

SHELBYHADWANTEDthis from the first day she had met Zach Gregory. She had told herself her desire was inappropriate and would never be returned. She was used to the men she encountered on the job seeing her as an agent first and a woman second. That was how she wanted to be seen 99 percent of the time.

But Zach... Zach wasn’t just any man. Everything Camille had told her had built up the image of this strong, thoughtful, sexy man. The kind of man she had longed for in her life. And then she had met him in person, and he had turned out to be so much more.

He deepened the kiss, and she arched her body to his. He shaped his hands to her backside and slid one thigh between her legs, tucking her in closer still, and she gasped at the sensation. He slid his tongue into her opened mouth, and she gave up all pretense of holding back, sliding her hands beneath his shirt to caress his muscled back.

Two sharp, loud reports that sounded as if they came from right outside the door made them freeze. Heart hammering hard in her chest, she pushed away from him. “That sounded like gunfire,” she said. Hours spent at the firing range had drilled that particular percussive echo into her brain. She raced to the kitchen and retrieved her own weapon from her purse, then moved to the door, Zach right behind her.

“Maybe it’s just a car backfiring,” he said, his last words almost drowned out by the piercing squeal of brakes and the growl of tires on gravel.

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