Page 31 of Suzanna's Surrender
“He must have loved her so much.” Damp eyed, C.C. rested her head on Trent’s shoulder. “She looks just as I imagined her, just as I knew she looked that night when I felt her.”
Holt kept his hands in his pocket. “Look, sentiment and séances aside, it’s the emeralds you need. If you want my help, then I need to know everything.”
“Séance.” Coco dried her eyes. “We should hold another one. We’ll hang the portrait in the dining room. With that to focus on we’re bound to be successful. I’ve got to check the astrological charts.” She got up and hurried out of the room.
“And she’s off and running,” Suzanna murmured.
Trent nodded. “Not to discredit Coco, but it might be best if I filled in Holt in a more conventional way.”
“I’ll make some coffee.” Suzanna sent one last glance at the portrait before heading for the kitchen.
There wasn’t so very much Trent could tell him, she thought as she ground beans. Holt already knew about the legend, the research they’d done, the danger her sisters had faced. It was possible that he might make more of it, with his training, than they had. But would he care, even a fraction of the amount her family did?
She understood that emotional motivation could change lives. And that without it, nothing worthwhile could be accomplished.
He had passion. But could his passions run deeper than a physical need? Not for her, she assured herself, measuring the coffee carefully. She’d meant what she’d said about not wanting to become involved. She couldn’t afford to love again.
She was afraid he was right about an affair. If she couldn’t be strong enough to resist him, she hoped she could be strong enough to hold her heart and her body separate. It couldn’t be wrong to need to be touched and wanted. Perhaps by giving herself to him, in a physical way, she could prove to herself that she wasn’t a failure as a woman.
God, she wanted to feel like a woman again, to experience that rush of pleasure and release. She was nearly thirty, she thought, and the only man with whom she’d been intimate had found her wanting. How much longer could she go on wondering if he was right?
She jolted when hands came down on her shoulders.
Slowly, aware of how easily she paled, Holt turned her to face him. “Where were you?”
“Oh. Up to my ears weeding pachysandra.”
“That’s a pretty good lie if you’d put more flair into it.” But he let it go. “I’m going to run down and talk with Lieutenant Koogar. Rain check the coffee.”
“All right, I’ll drive you down.”
“I’m hitching a ride with Max and Trent.”
Her brow lifted. “Men only, I take it.”
“Sometimes it works better that way.” He rubbed a thumb over the line between her brows in a gentle gesture that surprised them both. Catching himself, he dropped his hand again. “You worry too much. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you. I won’t forget what you’re doing for us.”
“Forget it.” He hauled her against him and kissed her until she went limp. “I’d rather you remember that.”
He strode out, and she sank weakly into a chair. She wouldn’t have any choice but to remember it.
Chapter Six
He wasn’t playing Good Samaritan, Holt assured himself. After getting a clearer handle on the situation, he was doing what he felt was best. Somebody had to keep an eye on her until Livingston was under wraps. The best way to keep an eye on her was to stick close.
Swinging into the graveled lot, he pulled up next to her pickup. He saw that she was outside the shop with customers, so he amused himself by roaming around.
He’d driven by Island Gardens before but had never stopped in. There hadn’t been any reason to. There were a lot of thriving blossoms crowded on wooden tables or sitting in ornamental pots. Though he couldn’t tell one from the other, he could appreciate their appeal. Or maybe it was the fact that the air smelled like Suzanna.
It was obvious she knew what she was doing here, he reflected. There was a tidiness to the place, enhanced by a breezy informality that invited browsers to browse even as it tempted them to buy.
Colorful pictures were set up here and there, describing certain flowers, their planting instructions and maintenance. Along the side of the main building were stacks of fifty- and hundred-pound bags of planting medium and mulch.
He was looking over a tray of snapdragons when he heard a rustle in the bush behind him. He tensed automatically, and his fingers jerked once toward the weapon he no longer wore. Letting out a quiet breath, he cursed himself. He had to get over this reaction. He wasn’t a cop anymore, and no one was likely to spring at his back with an eight-inch buck knife.
He turned his head slightly and spotted the young boy crouched behind a display of peonies. Alex grinned and popped up. “I got you!” He danced gleefully around the peonies. “I was a pygmy, and I zapped you with my poison blow dart.”
