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sensitive skin at the base of his erection with her fingertip.
He hovered on the precipice, knowing he could not last much longer. He was
torn between the fierce need to take her and the unfamiliar, equally urgent
desire to let himself be taken.
The hot urge to brand her as his own won out. He tightened his grip on her
head, hauling her up the length of his body. She struggled but he could tell
that the erotic combat was only making both of them more excited.
It was one of those situations where sheer muscle power dictated the outcome.
He knew from the expression on Clare s face that she understood that as well
as he did. But it only made her more determined.
He heaved upward and forced her down onto her back, pinning her to the bed.
You ever hear of the concept of taking defeat gracefully? he asked.
Heard about it. Her teeth gleamed in a wicked, seductive laugh. But I don t
buy it. What about you?
Can t say that I m a fan of it, either.
I ll bet you like variety, though, don t you? she asked smoothly.
Variety, huh? Now that sounds interesting.
She smiled again. That s what I m offering here. A little change of pace.
Well, why didn t you say so?
He rolled onto his back. She came down on top of him.
It didn t take long. They were both too close.
Jake.
He felt her constrict around him and knew that she had made the leap. He
wanted to luxuriate in the sensation of her climax but the pulses of her
release pulled him over the edge with her.
Together they fell, weightless, into the night.
Chapter Thirty-four
So Brad was screwing his massage therapist? Elizabeth asked.
By all accounts, yes, Clare said.
They were sitting in Elizabeth s Mercedes, which was parked in the lot in
front of a sleek steel-and-glass office building. The nine-story commercial
tower that housed the practice of Dr. Ronald Mowbray glinted like armor in the
hot sun.
And she just up and disappeared around the time Brad was killed, Elizabeth
said. She tapped a forefinger on the steering wheel. Well, well, well. Isn t
that interesting?
There may be nothing terribly sinister about it, Clare cautioned. At this
point we simply don t know much about Kimberley Todd.
You re wrong, Elizabeth said. Her fingers closed tightly around the steering
wheel, whitening her knuckles. We do know one thing about her for sure.
What s that?
Whatever else she is, she must be a very, very good massage therapist.
Only the best for Brad?
Only the best. Elizabeth opened the door on the driver s side and got out of
the car.
Clare popped her own door and emerged into the full glare of the sun. She
examined the landscaped commercial park through the protective shield of her
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sunglasses. It was mid-morning, not yet eleven o clock. The pavement was
already radiating steady, palpable waves of heat. The sparkling fountains and
impossibly green lawns that graced the office tower looked like an artificial
oasis.
She glanced at Elizabeth across the roof of the Mercedes. Nice real estate.
Elizabeth s smile was brittle. Nothing but the best shrink in town for Brad
McAllister s poor, mentally ill wife.
Are you sure you re okay with this?
To tell you the truth, I ve been dreading it since you suggested it,
Elizabeth said. When I woke up this morning, coming here was the last thing
on earth I wanted to do. But now that I m actually here, I m looking forward
to telling Dr. Mowbray what I think of his third-rate medical skills.
Clare walked with her toward the heavily tinted glass doors of the lobby.
Probably can t blame him entirely for being taken in by Brad. Everyone else
was, too.
I ve read that sociopaths can even fool lie detectors.
Heard that, too.
Elizabeth smiled. But he didn t fool you.
No.
Clare braced for the blast of icy, machine-chilled air that she knew awaited
her and followed Elizabeth inside the building.
The lobby had the sleek, polished feel typical of modern office buildings.
Walls of black glass that reduced the intense sunlight to a comfortable level
and gleaming slate floors generated the impression that only dignified,
important business was carried on here.
Elizabeth did not pause at the directory. She marched straight toward the bank
of elevators and punched the button.
Dr. Mowbray s office is on the fourth floor, she said. Not something I m
likely to forget.
Clare followed her into the elevator. She glanced down at the white-knuckled
grip Elizabeth had on the strap of her purse. She didn t say anything, just
reached out a hand and touched her sister s arm.
Elizabeth gave her a tremulous smile. I m okay. Really.
I know, Clare said.
The doors opened on the fourth floor. They went along a carpeted corridor,
passing two small accounting firms and a law office.
I don t see any other doctors offices or clinics on this floor, Clare said.
Don t medical professionals tend to hang out together?
Depends on the type of medicine they practice, Elizabeth explained. It
isn t uncommon for psychologists and psychiatrists to establish their
businesses in office buildings like this one. It allows patients more privacy
when they arrive for appointments.
Makes sense. A person walking into that lobby downstairs could just as well
be on her way to visit a lawyer or an accountant or a stockbroker. No need to
advertise that she s seeing a shrink.
Not that Brad went to any great effort to conceal the fact that I was being
treated by a psychiatrist, Elizabeth added bitterly.
She led the way around a corner and stopped in front of number 410. Squaring
her shoulders, she reached for the doorknob.
Clare glanced at the sign on the door. It read J. C. Connors,
Attorney-at-Law.
Hang on, she said. Wrong door.
Elizabeth s hand froze on the knob. She, too, stared at the sign.
This is the right door, she whispered. I m positive.
She opened the door. Clare followed her into a modestly appointed reception
room. The middle-aged woman behind the desk had been filing her nails. She
looked up quickly.
May I help you?
We re looking for Dr. Mowbray s office, Clare said.
This isn t it, the receptionist said. Did you check the directory
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downstairs?
Elizabeth took a step closer to the desk. There was a brittle tension about
her that worried Clare.
I m sure this is the right office, Elizabeth said. I remember coming here.
I know this was the place.
The receptionist was starting to look uneasy. She reached for the phone. I ll
call the manager s office. I m sure he can tell you where Dr. Mowbray is.
This is his office, Elizabeth insisted.
I m sorry. The receptionist gave Clare a pleading glance.
How long have you been here? Clare asked, moving to stand beside Elizabeth.
The receptionist hesitated. Then the glimmering of relief appeared in her
eyes. Miss Connors opened her office about three months ago. She hired me at
that time. Perhaps Dr. Mowbray was the former tenant.
That explains it, Clare said. She smiled. My sister came to this office
over six months ago. Obviously Dr. Mowbray has moved his practice.
Obviously, the receptionist said. She gave Elizabeth a wary look. That
explains the mix-up.
Elizabeth relaxed visibly. Yes, it does. Sorry to have bothered you. Do you
have any idea where Dr. Mowbray went?
No, I don t.
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