Copper Lake Confidential - By Marilyn Pappano Page 0,85

was very personal.

“What about Mark’s mother and grandmother?”

She had stopped in the doorway to the living room and was watching Clary sleep. Her own shoulders were rounded, and when she faced him, exhaustion was etched into her face. “They both had keys. Lorna probably still does. But Robbie changed the code after Mark died.”

Granted, Lorna could buy the code from a cash-strapped employee at the alarm company or even hire someone who could bypass it. But Lorna hadn’t had contact with her daughter-in-law in a long time. Why harass her now?

Which led back to Brent and Anne. Brent knew how fragile his sister was. He knew how much money she and Clary had. He was next in line for custody of his niece and control of both fortunes.

But he loved his sister—loved her in the never-ending do-anything-for-her way Stephen loved Marnie. If Brent needed money, hell, if he just wanted it, all he had to do was ask, and Macy would give it to him.

Anne loved her, too, and Clary. She was like a second mother to Clary. Macy credited both Brent and Anne with getting her through the ordeal of losing her baby and her husband with her sanity more or less intact.

Could Anne love Clary too much to let her go? Now that Macy was ready to settle elsewhere, was Anne afraid of losing her little girl?

It didn’t feel right. None of it felt right.

Across the room, Macy was standing with her arms across her chest again. Earlier the posture had made her look vulnerable, as if she were trying to protect herself. Now she looked on the offensive, as if she knew the things he was thinking and didn’t like them one bit. “No one I know would do this.”

Someone she knew was doing it. Or Mark’s ghost was hanging around. Or she was terrorizing herself.

Grimly he left the table and went to stand beside her, close enough to feel the chill emanating from her, to smell the faint fragrance of her perfume, the fainter scent of her fear. Together they stood and watched Clary for a moment, then he bumped his arm against hers. “You need sleep. Let me move Clary into the bedroom.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “She’s fine where she is.”

He stilled, gazing down at her delicate fingers, the nails pale pink with white tips. Pretty, pampered hands, but strong enough to pick up her daughter and carry her where she needed. Strong enough to fight for her daughter. For herself.

She sweetened his next breath as well—less fear, more woman. He shifted his gaze to her face, also delicate, pretty. “Tell me you’re not planning to sleep in that chair.”

She shook her head.

“Tell me you’re not planning for me to sleep in that chair.” He managed something of a grin. “Though I will if you want.”

Amazingly, slowly, she shook her head again.

Wow. He combed his fingers through his hair. He’d thought...wanted...wondered... But now... Wow.

A hint of a smile touched her lips. “I feel very intensely about you, too, Stephen. I want to sleep with you, but I also want to sleep with you. I want to be close.”

He didn’t have a clue exactly which meant have sex—sleep or sleep. He didn’t care. If all she wanted tonight was to share space and warmth and know she wasn’t alone, he was okay with that.

But when he followed her into the bedroom and turned from adjusting the door so they could hear any sound from Clary, Macy was stripping off her clothes. He stared long and hard. In a minute, he’d have to take his glasses off, and he wanted to remember her like this—naked, pale, sleekly curved, so damn beautiful and smiling at him with shy innocence, uncertainty, need.

You’re getting lucky tonight, a voice crowed in his head. The cheerleader/homecoming queen/prom queen had chosen the nerd. He felt just like that nerd again as he removed his glasses and everything went fuzzy, as his knees went weak and his erection swelled hard. If he tried to speak, he was pretty sure his voice would wobble and squeak, so he didn’t say anything. He just walked to her, cupped her face and kissed her.

He was devouring her, easing her closer to the bed, when she began tugging at his boxers. She got distracted, though, her delicate, strong fingers wrapping around him and wringing a guttural groan from him. Evading her hands while still feasting on her mouth, he shucked the boxers, managed to find