Overkill(36)

“You were.”

He cupped the back of her head and held it there against his chest, which was broad and warm and smelled wonderful. His touch was light and undemanding, but all the more captivating because of his restraint. Everything felt far too right, and therefore was very wrong.

“Zach.”

“Hmm?”

“We can’t.”

“I know.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you understand how unethical, how compromising—”

“Hell, Kate, you don’t have to explain how this would complicate a problem that’s already so damned complicated. I get it, okay?”

“Okay.” She looked up and gave him a soft, weak smile. “Then, let’s say good night.”

“Good night.”

But neither of them moved. She didn’t even realize how incrementally they’d been inclining toward each other until his left hand joined his right to cradle the back of her head, and his face was lowering closer to hers.

She closed her eyes. Against her cheek she felt his breath, warm and fragrant with whiskey. Then felt its tickle on the corner of her mouth. His lips made glancing passes across her lower one, whispering, “Feel free to apply all the pressure on me you like.”





Chapter 16





The chiming of Upton’s doorbell echoed through his house. Because it wasn’t often utilized, it startled him. Since his wife’s death, he didn’t entertain. Neither did friends visit, except possibly Sid, and those rare occasions were scheduled.

He set aside the dense biography he was reading, slid his bare feet into leather slippers, and made his way to his front door. He was not pleased to see Eban on his doorstep, reaching out to ring the bell again.

“I’m here,” Upton called through the glass panel. He disengaged his alarm, unlocked the door, and opened it.

“Hi, Up.” Eban took in his pajamas and robe. “A little early for bedtime, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t in bed. Just relaxing.” Upton looked beyond Eban, hoping that Sid was with him, but the only thing in his semicircular driveway was the shiny sports car. “Is anything wrong?”

“What a coincidence! That’s exactly the question I came to ask you. Why don’t you invite me in and let’s chew the fat?”

With reluctance, Up said, “Of course, come in. I was in the study.”

He motioned for Eban to precede him down the wide central hallway, which he did in a jaunty stride, having a thorough look around as he went. “Not a thing’s changed since the last time I was here, and that’s been, gosh, how many years?”

“I’m a creature of habit,” Upton said. “Since Alice died, the girls have been encouraging me to downsize. But I can’t bring myself to leave this house. It’s familiar. I know where everything is and how to operate it.”

The “girls” were his two adult daughters. Both were busy juggling careers and families. They called frequently to check on him, but he sensed their monitoring sprang more from obligation than affection.

Alice had been the parent in the trenches, the loving, soft-spoken, levelheaded, well-oiled motor that had kept the family running smoothly through decades. Since she was gone, he and his daughters were like congenial strangers in search of common ground and things to talk about. It shamed him to acknowledge how little he knew of them as individuals, as persons with interests and ideas and quirks.

Much more of his time, his life, had been devoted to Sid and his business dealings, which were extensive, encompassing a grab bag of industries. Up had had far more interaction with Eban than with his own children. If he had it to do over again, he would amend many of the choices he’d made and rearrange his priorities. But unfortunately, the time for making those adjustments had long since passed.

He and Eban entered the study and soon were sitting in facing chairs, a cocktail table between them. Eban had poured himself a vodka; Upton declined. He didn’t welcome this intrusion and wished to keep it brief.

“What’s on your mind, Eban?”

He was slouched in his chair, legs outstretched and ankles crossed, but Upton recognized posturing when he saw it. Eban wouldn’t be here if he weren’t stewing over something. Upton had an idea of what that something was, but he wanted to hear it from Eban himself.

He began by saying, “Dad told me something rather astonishing this morning.”

Upton didn’t ask what. He waited.

“He told me that you had alerted him to a potential…” He drew a lazy spiral in the air. “… ripple in the pond of my future.” He slurped some vodka. “No, let me rephrase with more accuracy. Dad warned me of a potential fucking tsunami.” With sudden ferocity, he said, “Why aren’t you doing something to stop it?”

Upton raised his hands. “At this point, there’s nothing I can do. The key word is potential. My responsibility was to inform Sid and you that there’s a possibility of such an occurrence.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Eban slammed his glass down on the table. “All you’re going to do is sit twiddling your thumbs until that girl finally gives up the ghost, and then when she does, you’ll let this prosecutor pounce on my ass with an arrest warrant for murder? That’s the plan?”