Page 78 of Lock ’N’ Load

The man cleared his throat. “I’m Matt’s father, and this is his sister, Joyelle. May we come in?”

“Of course.” Trista stepped aside for them to enter, then closed the door, feeling incredibly self-conscious at the obvious conclusion they’d leaped to. That she and Matt were sleeping together. Only they weren’t. Not anymore, anyway.

“Matt’s upstairs in the shower. Would you like to wait for him?” She looked at the other woman, who was grinning broadly now.

Heat rose to her face as Matt’s father again took in her wardrobe. “No,” he said. “That won’t be necessary. We just came to make sure Matt received this invitation.” He moved to set a cream-colored envelope on the hall table but stopped. On the table was an identical envelope. Unopened. “I see he already has one.” His jaw clenched, and the scowl on his face again reminded her of the similarities between the two men. He tossed the envelope onto the table and turned and opened the door himself.

“It was nice to meet you,” Joyelle said with a glimmer of curiosity in her gaze. “Hopefully I’ll see you again.”

“Thank you.” Trista smiled at Joyelle and would have said her goodbyes to Matt’s father, but he was already halfway to the silver Jaguar parked in front of the house. She’d sensed some serious undercurrents in the man’s reaction to seeing Matt already had an invitation and hadn’t responded. She assumed that the invite was to Jerry’s banquet and that Matt wasn’t going.

After locking the door and re-engaging the security system, she went back to Matt’s desk. The program she’d been running to decrypt the last of the reporter’s files was still hard at work, with combinations of numbers and letters scrolling rapidly down the screen. She glanced out the window to the backyard, thinking about the visit from Matt’s family.

Whether he realized it or not, Matt really needed to attend the banquet this year. Despite his father’s anger, it was obvious the man loved his son and was disappointed he’d so blatantly ignored the invitation. She surmised Jerry’s death had not only hurt Matt deeply but had also indirectly caused a rift in the family, one that would keep worsening if it wasn’t repaired soon.

The laptop dinged, and she jerked her head back to the screen. “I have it. I have the code!”

With shaking fingers, she entered the reporter’s password and opened up the first of the three remaining encrypted files, the one labeled “Erica Sands,” documenting the flight of Mrs. Sands and her son, Billy Jr., to Nebraska shortly after the murder of Will Sands. The second file contained a search history of Nebraska birth records for—

“It can’t be.” Her fingers froze on the keyboard as she read the name again.

A second later, she opened the last encrypted file, the draft article. As she read the last story Thomas George had ever written, her heart began to race.

“Oh my God.” She sat back in the chair, her mind whizzing at what she’d just learned.

She now knew who was trying to kill her. And why.

Bolting from the chair, she pounded up the stairs and flung open the door to Matt’s bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Matt leaned against the shower tile, allowing the cold spray to pound against the back of his head and neck. He’d lost track of how many cold showers he’d taken over the past week. Being this close to Trista and not making love to her again was driving him insane.

Earlier, he’d nearly lost his resolve and taken her right there on his desk.

Blood surged to his groin, and he looked down. Just thinking about her made him rock hard.

The only things that had kept him grounded enough that he hadn’t done something stupid were a grueling workout session in his basement gym every morning, followed by an equally intense session with Sheba. To eradicate Trista’s effects on his dog, so she didn’t go soft.

Bullshit.

Every morning when Trista came downstairs and parked her butt at his computer, he’d taken Sheba and practically fled from the house because he still needed space. His need for Trista was off the charts, but he couldn’t go there again. There was only pain there for her, and he refused to drag her down with him.

A hammering sound came to his ears over the spray of the shower. He flung open the shower door to see Trista standing in his bathroom, chest heaving, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Matt, I—” Her gaze dipped to his chest, then lower as she took in his nakedness. When she swallowed, he knew what she was seeing.

His rock-hard erection.

Neither of them moved. He gripped the shower door tightly and clenched his other hand to keep from reaching for her.

Don’t do it.

Blood pounded in his ears. His heart thumped crazily, and he felt himself grow impossibly harder to the point of pain. When their gazes finally met, the searing need he glimpsed in her eyes echoed his own, and he lost all fucking control.

Reaching out, he pulled her into the shower, not giving a shit that she was fully clothed. He wrapped his arms around her, tugging her against his chest. Angling her head, he groaned, then crashed his mouth down on hers. When she parted her lips, he savored what he’d been denying himself and wondered if he could ever live without it again.

“Goddamn,” he whispered, raining kiss after kiss on her sweet lips, her creamy neck, and the tops of her breasts. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. How much I want you.” He wished he could say more, but that one word wouldn’t come out: “love.”