Brenda Novak - The Perfect Murder

Sebastian found her as soon as she stepped toward him and drew her against his slick, hard body. “There you are,” he breathed in her ear. “I’ve been waiting for this since you brought me those damn blankets. What took you so long?”

The memory of Wendy’s scorn. The hope that it wasn’t too late to atone for her mistakes. The determination to do what was best for her daughter.

Clearly, she wasn’t up to those challenges. But she’d already made love with Sebastian several times over the past two days. What would one more night matter?

“I wanted to do the right thing,” she told him.

“I can’t think of anything that feels more right than this,” he said. Then his lips met hers in a breathless, frenzied kiss spurred on by the urgency rising in them both.

“You’ve got the Shield?”

“I’m ready.” Her thoughts were somewhere in the stratosphere, but she’d hung on to that much of her sanity.

He licked away the water dripping from her left breast. “Smart girl,” he whispered.

Minutes later, he lifted her onto him and she could think of nothing except the rasp of his labored breathing, the contraction of his muscles as he held her against the tile wall and that moment of ultimate ecstasy when he covered her mouth with his to capture her moan.

She didn’t hold back with him anymore. She couldn’t. She gave him everything she had, physically and emotionally. She knew that was why making love with him was so much better, so different, than before.

But she also knew that what made it different could swing back the other way-and hurt her more deeply than ever.

The next morning, Sebastian sat at the breakfast table with Kate while Jane stood at the stove, dressed for work in tailored pants and a starched white blouse, frying eggs. Kate already had her meal and was somehow managing to fork up her food and find her mouth without ever looking down at her plate. She had eyes only for him. Every time he glanced up, he found her watching him with rapt attention. He was beginning to wonder if she’d somehow caught on to the fact that he’d had sex with her mother last night. Maybe his smile was giving it away, or the fact that he still felt so aware of Jane as she cooked behind him.

“Are you married, Mr. Costas?” Kate asked.

“Call me Sebastian,” he said. “And no, I’m not married.”

“Do you have any children?”

“Kate, you need to finish your breakfast,” Jane interjected from the stove. Sebastian wasn’t sure if she was trying to protect him from having to say he no longer had children, or if she was trying to stop Kate from getting to know him. Maybe both.

“No. No kids, either,” he said to keep it simple. After what Kate had been through, he didn’t want her to hear what had happened to him. She had to be traumatized enough already.

“Oh.” She drank the rest of her milk. A white mustache covered her upper lip when she put the glass down, but she quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe it off. She was beginning to cross the boundary between child and young woman, and he liked that stage, admired the innocence of it.

Jane brought him three eggs and some toast. He thanked her and began to eat.

Kate continued to stare. “Do you like kids?” she asked as her mother cracked more eggs into the frying pan.

“Kate-” Jane started, but he shook his head to indicate he’d answer.

“I like them very much.”

“Even girls?” she asked hopefully.

Putting down his fork, he pretended to contemplate that question. “Yes,” he said with a decisive nod. “Every bit as much as boys. Why?”

Her gaze slid away from him for the first time that morning. “I don’t think my daddy liked girls.”

Considering the scar on Jane’s neck, Sebastian could understand how she might’ve arrived at that conclusion. “But that’s not because of you. You understand that, right? Some people don’t like anybody.”

She toyed with what was left of her meal. “Sometimes he was nice.”

Her confusion broke his heart. “It’d be easier if the people who hurt others came with a warning sign on their foreheads, don’t you think?”

She giggled. “Yeah.”

He picked up his fork and went back to his meal, but she wasn’t finished speaking. “He killed my uncle,” she said.

Sebastian could tell that Jane was dying to put a stop to the conversation, but he was grateful she had enough faith in him to let him handle it. “That’s what I hear.”

“And he stabbed my mom.” She touched her neck. “Right here.”

A wave of protectiveness swept through him. “I’ve seen the scar. That’s very sad.”

“She almost died.”

“I’m glad she didn’t.”

“Me, too. But…I don’t think my aunt Wendy’s glad.”

There was a clatter behind him. Sebastian turned to see that Jane had dropped her spatula. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Maybe she’s confused about what really happened,” he said to Kate.

“That’s what I think. That’s what my grandma says, too.”

“Kate, concentrate on eating so you won’t be late for school,” Jane said.

“I’m full.” Setting her knife and fork on her plate, she got up to carry everything to the counter.

“Then get your teeth brushed,” her mother said.

Kate started to leave but paused at the hallway entrance to address him one more time. “You’d never hurt anyone, would you?” she asked.

The bite he’d been about to take hovered in midair. “Never.”

Doubling back, she gave him an unexpected hug. He didn’t even have the chance to put down his fork and hug her back. “I like you,” she whispered before her mother could shoo her out of the kitchen.

Clearly embarrassed, Jane laughed. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry for what?” he asked.

“The questions, the fascination, the sudden affection. I’m sure it was a bit overwhelming.”

It wasn’t overwhelming; it was endearing. Kate’s behavior reminded Sebastian of how quick children were to love, how quick to forgive, how much they wanted to trust adults, how much he missed his own child. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re definitely a novelty around here.”

Sebastian thought he heard his phone ringing in the living room. He paused to listen when Kate hurried in with it. “It’s-” she checked his caller ID “-Constance Sherwood,” she said as she handed it to him.

He would’ve let it go to voice mail, but she’d just announced that a woman was trying to reach him at seven in the morning. It would look odd if he didn’t answer. “Thanks,” he said and hit the talk button. “Hello?”

“Is it true?” Constance demanded.

He was aware of Jane collecting her car keys and her purse as he answered. “Is what true?”

“I got another call from Malcolm last night.”

The tension Sebastian was so familiar with returned. “What’d he say?”

“That you’ve been sleeping with his ex-girlfriend.”

Why would Malcolm bother to call Constance about that? Just to cause trouble? What a vindictive bastard. “That’s a lie. He said the same thing about Emily, remember? He’s insecure, paranoid.”

“So you haven’t been with her.”

Jane stood at the front door, waiting for Kate to zip her backpack. He looked up to see if she was listening and saw her watching him. “I just told you I haven’t.”

“Is everything okay?” Jane asked.

Apparently, she could sense the change in him. To keep Constance from realizing he wasn’t alone, so the conversation wouldn’t deteriorate into a senseless argument, he nodded instead of speaking. But the suspicion in her next question indicated that she’d heard Jane’s voice. “Have you been with anyone?”

Memories of Jane in the shower filled his mind, from the thrill that’d gone through him when he first heard the door, to the sweet taste of her mouth, to the warmth and softness of her beautiful body. She hadn’t been timid last night. She was beginning to lower her guard, to feel comfortable with him-to ask for more, take more, give more. He liked that. A lot.