The Maker Read online

  He was leaning against the door frame and looked just as sexy as he had the other times she’d seen him. Dressed in navy suit pants and a business shirt and tie, his suit jacket hung casually from his finger. Despite the late hour, he looked fresh and alluring, like he’d stepped from the pages of GQ.

  Heat blossomed in her face and then quickly spread across her stomach to center low in her core. A shiver of awareness coursed through her and her nipples tightened in response. His gaze swept over her from head to toe, further inflaming her senses. Emotion flared in his eyes.

  “H-hi,” she stammered, tripping over her tongue. “Thanks for coming.”

  “You needed me.”

  It was a statement more than a question and once again, she was tongue-tied. He was right. She’d been at a loss about what to do and who to speak to. She could have turned to her family. They’d always come to her rescue, but the shock of being fired was too fresh to share with her loved ones.

  They’d commiserate and sympathize and get angry on her behalf. Her brothers might even try to call the general manager and demand an explanation. Her father would immediately contact his lawyers. It was all too much for her to deal with right then. She’d acted on instinct when she’d called Bryce, but she was now certain it was the best thing she could have done.

  “Please, come in,” she murmured and stepped back to make way for him to enter.

  He brushed past her and headed into the living room. She took a moment to steady her breathing and then followed him.

  “Let me take your jacket.”

  He turned and handed it to her. Their fingers touched and her pulse leaped from the contact. Once again, his gaze found hers and the solemnness in his eyes caught at her heart. He’d taken her plea for help seriously. He was there because she needed him. The knowledge warmed her all the way through.

  Flustered, she turned away and hung up his jacket on the coat rack that stood in the corner, right by the door.

  “You have a nice place here. A great view of the harbor.”

  “Yes,” she smiled, pleased to have something normal to focus on. “I got lucky in the apartment stakes. It’s a little out of my budget, but I have a roommate. Together, we manage to meet the expenses.”

  His lips twitched. “I bet it doesn’t leave much for partying.”

  “I’m not much for partying,” she admitted.

  A single dark eyebrow was raised in question. “No?”

  “No. I spend most of my time at work. At least, I did until today.” She grimaced at the reminder. “I guess I’ll have to find another way to fill my days.”

  He shook his head and his expression turned somber once again. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened. They’re in damage control. They know you’re at the top of the suspect list and even though we’ve been careful about pointing the finger at anyone, they’d want to take precautions, just in case.”

  “Just in case I’m charged, you mean.”

  He stared at her, his gaze intense. “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

  “Do we?” she asked, fear nipping at the edges of her consciousness. “I had nothing to do with the deaths of those women, but I have no way to prove it. All I have is my word.”

  “You’re forgetting that you don’t have to prove it. We live in a country that believes in innocence until proven guilty, remember? We, as in the police, have to prove you’re the murderer and if there’s no evidence of that, then you have nothing to worry about.”

  Chanel stared at him and tried to believe him. Her thoughts were in turmoil. He made it sound as if innocence always triumphed over guilt, but she was sure he knew as well as she did that sometimes the law got it wrong. Very wrong.

  As if sensing her disquiet, he stepped forward and reached out to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. His touch was gentle, almost tender. She froze a moment before he did. He dropped his hand and turned away.

  “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Um…” Heat exploded across Chanel’s cheeks. She didn’t know what to say. It was obvious they both felt a connection, but it seemed impossible to hope that they might fan it to life under these circumstances.

  He was investigating her for murder. Okay, in his eyes, she wasn’t a suspect, but the truth of it was her employer had fired her because it was a possibility. Though Bryce wasn’t the only officer behind the investigation, getting involved with her would be foolhardy for him, too. If someone discovered he was with her, it might not only be her career on the line.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” She blurted the words out without thinking.

  His shoulders tensed. When he finally turned back toward her, his face was closed. “You’re right.”

  He did a good job of concealing his hurt, but she caught a glimpse of it in his eyes. She hurried to set him straight.

  “You misunderstood me. I didn’t mean… That is, I’m glad you came. I was scared and confused and lost. I didn’t know what to do. You’re the first person I wanted to call. I…I really wanted to see you.”

  His expression remained guarded. “Does that mean you want me to stay or go?”

  She blushed and lowered her gaze and cursed her inexperience. She was sure other girls would know what to say to keep a man like Bryce from walking out their door.

  “I…I like you, Bryce. There’s something about you… I don’t know how to explain it. I hardly know you and yet, it feels like I’ve known you forever. You make me feel safe. I’m not doing a very good job of this, but the truth of it is…I want you to stay.”

  “But you just told me to go.”

  Chanel bit back a sigh. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. She tried again.

  “What I meant was, your job could be in jeopardy, too. I’m a suspect and you’re the lead investigator. There’s bound to be someone in your office who’ll take exception to your after hours’ visit.”

  “I couldn’t care less what they think. I’m off the clock. My conscience is clear. I’m certain we’ll find the killer and I’m just as sure it won’t be you.”

  He drew in a breath. The room was so quiet, she could hear the soft hum of traffic from the street below and the occasional shouts from a passersby. The blast from a train horn sounded in the distance.

  “Your voice on the other end of the phone was the best thing I’d heard all day,” he said quietly. “Even though I was upset about how you’d been treated, I couldn’t help but feel glad when you called. The last little while… Let’s just say, life’s been tough and hearing your voice…even your forlorn and desperate voice, brightened my day.”

  He looked away, as if embarrassed. Color tinged his cheekbones. Chanel’s heart melted at the sadness in his eyes.

  “Are you talking about the investigation?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “No, the investigation’s the least of it. There’s been so much other stuff going on. Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.” She paused and then said, “How about I get us a drink and you can tell me about it? Of course, you’ll have to change the names to protect the innocent…” She smiled, but he didn’t respond to her lame attempt at a joke. Embarrassed, she fled to the kitchen.

  She was only an occasional drinker, but she had a couple of bottles of Merlot in the cupboard. After taking one down, she collected two wine glasses and carried everything back to the living room. Bryce had taken a seat on the couch and was resting his elbows on his knees, deep in thought.

  The night had settled in around them and after placing the bottle and glasses down on the coffee table, she moved over to the corner and switched on the lamp. Soft, yellow light bathed the room and chased away the shadows.

  In silence, she opened the wine and poured them each a glass. She handed one to Bryce and he accepted it with a murmur of thanks. Grateful to have something else to distract her from her melancholy thoughts, she urged him once again to open up to her.r />
  “Talk to me. That is, if you don’t mind,” she added.

  He blew out his breath on a heavy sigh and reached for his glass. After taking a healthy swallow, he set it back down on the table in front of him. His voice was a low rumble when he finally began to speak.

  “You’re right when you say you feel a connection. I feel it, too. But I don’t have any right to feel anything for you. The truth is, up until a fortnight ago, I was married. I shouldn’t even be thinking about another woman, let alone longing to get closer to you.”

  Chanel gaped in shock. “Okay, I…I guess that’s fair enough,” she said finally. “Did you sign the divorce papers two weeks ago or did the court order come through?”

  He shook his head and his expression turned grim. “Neither. My wife’s been in a coma for three years. Fourteen days ago, I gave permission to switch off her life support. I spread her ashes over Bondi Beach.”

  If Chanel needed something to distract her from the events of her day, he’d just blown every other thought out of the ball park. She chased around in her head for something to say, but came up with nothing.

  She hadn’t given any thought to his marital status, apart from assuming he was single. He certainly hadn’t given out any “off the market” vibes. Hell, the night before, she’d been having erotic fantasies about him. Her subconscious had already claimed him as hers. Now she discovered he was married. Well, not anymore, but only because he’d switched off his wife’s life support. It was too much.

  She stood abruptly. Wine sloshed over her hand. She cursed and looked around for a cloth. Bryce stared up at her with a resigned expression on his face.

  “I understand your reaction, Chanel. You’re right to feel stunned. It’s not everyday someone drops a bombshell like this, but I wanted to be honest with you. There’s something between us. We’ve both acknowledged it. You have a right to know I come with…complications.”

  He dropped his head and stared at the carpet beneath his feet. “The decision I made to switch off my wife’s life support was the hardest I’ve ever had to make. For three years there wasn’t a single day that I didn’t think about her and yearn for things to be different.”

  “Why now? It’s been three years. What changed for you?”

  He looked up at her and met her gaze. His eyes were bleak. “I’m not sure. Her doctors had been increasing the pressure on me for weeks.” His lips twisted into a cynical smile. “They needed the bed. I’m sure you can understand.”

  Chanel twisted her lips into a grimace and nodded. She knew all about bed shortages and the strain they put on the system.

  “It’s a sad fact of life that no one wants to talk about, least of all our politicians,” she murmured, doing her best to process all that he’d told her. Her head still reeled from the overload of information and then she remembered what else he’d said.

  “Do you really feel something between us?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I already told you how I feel. I need to hear it from you. If I’m going to risk entangling my heart in a complicated situation, I need to know you feel just as strongly as I do.”

  He stood and came to his full height. Slowly, he came closer until there was nothing but a heartbeat between them. His shirt front brushed hers and she shivered from the impact. Heat flooded to her core.

  “From the moment I saw you, my heart wanted you for my own. You bowled me over with your beauty, your vitality and the goodness that shone from your eyes. You were like an angel, a beautiful, untouchable gift from above. And then you were gone. I wondered if I’d ever see you again and then I thought about Angela and felt guilty. I didn’t have the right to feel anything for you at all.”

  “Is Angela your wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  He frowned. “You want to hear about my wife?”

  “She was an important part of your life. I’d like to know more about her.”

  He stared at her a moment longer and then slowly nodded. “All right, but let’s sit down. This could take awhile.”

  They returned to the couch. It was small enough that every now and then their legs brushed the other’s when one of them moved. Despite the energy passing between them, Chanel did her best to concentrate on his words.

  “We met when we were teenagers. She was from a big Italian family. My mother’s family was Italian. We had a lot in common and our parents were thrilled when we fell in love. We were married straight out of college.”

  He leaned over and picked up his glass and took a drink before continuing. “Angela graduated as a nurse. She worked at the local hospital. We were living in the suburbs, near Strathfield. I was a police officer in nearby Croydon. We were young and just scraping by from week to week on our pay cheques, but we were happy. We had our whole lives before us.”

  He drew in a breath and then took another swallow from his glass. “Of course, we had our arguments, like any couple does, but we also knew how to make up. We’d been married for two years when we decided to try for a baby.”

  He smiled sadly and Chanel’s fingers tightened on her glass. He hadn’t mentioned children. She could only guess there weren’t any.

  “For the first twelve months, we tried the normal way. We were both twenty-four, fit and healthy. We had no reason to believe it wouldn’t happen. A lot of our friends were getting pregnant. It didn’t seem that hard to do. Because we’d spent years trying not to have a baby, we figured getting pregnant would be easy.” He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, his expression was filled with grim resignation.

  “Only, it didn’t work out that way. By the time the second year of trying rolled around, we’d become a little despondent. Angela probably more so than I. I’d finished my time in general duties and had applied for the detective’s course. I was busy and involved with my career. I wanted a baby, but I had plenty of other things to concentrate on. For Angela, it wasn’t quite so easy.”

  He sighed and scrubbed his free hand through his short hair. “The longer it took for us to get pregnant, the more upset and depressed she became. When she suggested we see a doctor, I was happy to oblige. Anything to bring the smile back to her face and give her the baby that she craved. In her mind, having a baby seemed the only way to signify her worthiness as a wife.”

  He looked up at Chanel and shook his head. “It was crazy, I know, but she’d come from a large, traditional Italian family. Being surrounded by children was a natural and expected progression in life. By this time, we’d been married more than three years and we still didn’t have a baby.”

  He tilted his glass to his lips and emptied it. With another quiet sigh, he set the glass back on the coffee table and then leaned back into the couch. His hard thigh connected with hers and her heart skipped a beat. She surreptitiously drew in a steadying breath and urged him to continue.

  “What happened after you visited with the doctor?”

  “I was given the all clear. Angela wasn’t so fortunate. She had a condition which meant that her ovaries didn’t always release an egg. In fact, she could go months without having an egg released, even though she was getting regular periods. It meant that our chances of conceiving naturally were slimmer than most, despite the fact we were young and otherwise healthy.”

  “Did you look into IVF?”

  “Of course. It was the first thing we discussed. Angela was given medication to stimulate her ovaries and several eggs were harvested. It sounds easy, but it was tough on both of us. No one goes through IVF without being affected by it. But, we were hopeful it would work and we were prepared to do whatever it took.”

  He bent forward to pick up his wine glass and then stopped midway when he realized it was empty. Chanel hurriedly picked up the bottle and refilled it. He murmured his thanks and took a mouthful before continuing.

  “Our first four attempts were unsuccessful. We were gutted. Her eggs were healthy and so were my sperm. We’d fully expected it to
work. Even the doctors were a little nonplussed to explain why we hadn’t succeeded. They told us to give it a break, that both of us could do with a rest. They suggested we get on with living our lives, reconnect with the things we loved.”

  A quiet sigh escaped him. “We tried, we really did. I think it was easier for me than Angela. While my career was coming ahead in leaps and bounds, she’d lost interest in being a nurse. She gave up her job and spent the time lying around the house, immersed in baby books and crappy TV. I begged her to get out and find something to do. Not only to take her mind off things, but we needed the extra cash. IVF treatment doesn’t come cheap and the government subsidies only go so far. I was earning good money on my detective’s pay, but it was still a stretch, especially when Angela up and quit hers.”

  “So, what happened?” Chanel murmured, keen to hear more. It seemed strange to be talking to a man she was interested in about his wife, but that’s the way it was.

  “Angela begged me to start IVF again. Having a baby had become an obsession. I was prepared to accept that it just wasn’t meant to be, but she wouldn’t even hear of it. Over the next couple of years, we tried on and off, whenever we could afford it, but the strain of it was taking its toll. Our fights became more vindictive. It took longer for us to reconcile. I felt I’d been relegated to nothing more than a bank account with the added bonus of being able to donate sperm.”

  He shook his head and blew out his breath on a sigh heavy with sadness and regret. “We let it happen to us. We let it tear us apart. When she was hit by a drunk driver who ran a red light, she was returning home from yet another IVF treatment.”

  Chanel’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped in shock and surprise. “Oh, no, Bryce! How terrible.”

  “I’d stopped going to the appointments with her long before that. I couldn’t bear the whole buildup, everything she went through, only to discover it had failed. I was at work when I got the call that she’d been involved in an accident.”