by Rachel Grant
“So it’s detective work you’ll be diving into?”
“In a sense. I might actually have luck in Otto’s case—there’s a good chance his correspondence was saved, but it’s going to be brutal. He was a vocal Nazi sympathizer and corresponded regularly with other sympathizers in Portland and across the country. I’m not looking forward to reading his lengthy writings praising the Third Reich.”
She caught Josh’s slight shudder. “That’s gonna suck.”
She nodded. “So much.” Then she squared her shoulders and dug deep for a smile. “But, on the flipside, if it means proving Otto was digging on federal land and the bones will be repatriated, it will be worth it. I want Otto’s so-called legacy to be destroyed and would love it if the entire collection was returned to the people he stole from. I just wish the family had paid a price sooner. I wish there was some sort of restitution.”
The conversation flowed from there to her planned trips into the Painted Hills and other areas in Oregon, Washington, and Idaho she’d likely visit. He spoke of the town in eastern Oregon where he grew up—which was on her list of places where Otto had looted—and said to let him know when she was headed that way. He hadn’t been back to visit in over a dozen years, and maybe he could join her.
She told herself it was nothing more than the convergence of his past, her job, and his willingness to help her with this project, but still, she couldn’t help but open the door to a little fantasy.
He finished his glass of wine, then suddenly made a face and pulled his vibrating phone out of his pocket again. “Sorry. I need to take this.” Into the phone, he said, “What’s wrong, Ava?”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Hmm. Maybe Ava wasn’t a girlfriend.
“No. I’m not on my way. I told you, I’ll be home in a couple of hours.” He opened his eyes and gave Maddie an apologetic look. “I know, but something came up.” He paused, then said, “No, it’s not a date. I’m working.” He grimaced at the wine and cheese, and she suspected he felt guilty. He wasn’t lying—this was work, but it would look like a date if Ava walked into the room.
“Yes, she’s pretty,” he continued, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not work. You know I don’t keep normal hours.”
She cocked her head even as she smiled and her belly fluttered.
He thinks I’m pretty?
But more importantly, who was this Ava person?
He rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated. “The longer we’re on the phone, the longer I’ll be here.” After another pause, he said, “Order pizza. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.” He hung up and shook his head. “Sorry. My niece. She worries about everything. Tonight, she seems to think you’re a threat to her status as the number one woman in my life.”
Okay, now her heart was melting a little bit. Ava was his niece?
“How old is she?”
“Just turned seventeen. She’s in a rough place.” He cocked his head. “Did Trina tell you why I moved here?”
“She said you’re opening a new Raptor office.”
“That’s only part of it. I mean, it’s my job, but I needed to move here, and Keith gave me the time and budget to get an office up and running so I wouldn’t have to quit. Which is good, because I can’t afford to lose health insurance now that I’m the guardian of a seventeen-year-old with mental health issues.
“My brother—Ava’s father—is an asshole. A shitty parent. And a thief. He was caught embezzling from his company. He worked in demolition. You know how before a building is brought down, they clean it out and sell everything that’s worth anything? My brother was selling some of those materials on the side. He got caught because Ava was confused by junk he was storing in the garage at their house. He was bringing copper pipes and sinks and all kinds of stuff home that isn’t found in a normal person’s garage. Ava got fed up and called the company. She left a long message on the main phone line asking her dad when the company was going to get their stuff and why they didn’t just pay for a storage unit. The office manager played the message for the owner, and within an hour, the police were at the house. They didn’t have a warrant, but it didn’t matter, because Ava let them in.
“Pretty much the only thing my brother did right was plead guilty to save the expense of an attorney and a drawn-out trial, but it all happened fast. Three months from arrest to him serving time and me needing to get my ass out here to take care of Ava. She spent those three months in foster care.” He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh before adding, “Two and a half years ago, her mom committed suicide.”
Maddie gasped, her heart aching for a girl she hadn’t known existed until a few minutes ago.
He frowned at his glass. “Ava blames herself for her dad being in jail, and I’m pretty sure she blames herself for her mom losing the battle with depression. I considered having her move to DC, but I couldn’t make her start over in a new school after everything she’s been through. So, here I am.”
“You moved across the country for your niece? That’s…amazing.”
He shook his head. “I regret not doing anything sooner. I knew what a fuckup my brother is. After Lori’s suicide, I should have moved here or insisted they move to DC.”
“And your brother’s mistakes are no more your fault than they are Ava’s.”
“Oh, I know. But I’m good at taking on guilt.”
“On the plus side, it sounds like Ava is really attached to you.”
He nodded. “That’s the only part of this that’s working. She’s not a surly teen, even though she has every right to be. She’s sweet—but full of anxiety. She’s afraid she’s going to lose me too. She knows my job can be dangerous—thank God I’m not in the Navy anymore—but tonight is a new one. Now it seems she’s afraid I’m going to meet someone and choose them over her. She doesn’t trust that I won’t abandon her.”
He couldn’t be more clear: he wasn’t emotionally available right now. He had a teenage girl who needed him. Maddie understood that, but maybe she could enjoy a little harmless flirting that went nowhere. Because she felt good with him. Everything about this evening felt natural. “You’re a good man to put her needs first.”
“Someone has to. I know what Lori did was about depression. I know she never would have abandoned her daughter if she’d been capable of making a different choice, but that doesn’t mean I’m not also angry for Ava’s sake. I mean, she left her daughter with my dipshit brother.”
“How long will he be in jail?”
“He’ll probably be out in another eight months, but he’s not getting Ava back. I insisted he sign away his parental rights. I’m her legal guardian and responsible for her until she finishes high school. I’m probably going to need to get some kind of court order to keep him away from her once he’s out, but I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
“Will you move back to DC after she graduates?”
“It’ll depend on how building the Portland office goes. If it’s not self-supporting by then, I’ll need to move back and will hope she’s willing to move with me if she isn’t attending a four-year university here or elsewhere.”
“It’s pretty great that Keith found a way for you to move and keep your job.” She’d known Trina had married well, but this solidified her opinion that Trina had landed a good one.
“Keith saved my ass with this solution, and I’ll be forever grateful, but it’s the owner who makes it possible—Senator Alec Ravissant has been adamant that Raptor doesn’t have to make money, it just needs to break even. So Keith is always looking for ways to invest profits back into the company. With me here, there’s the potential of starting up a new training ground in eastern Oregon. That’s the long-term goal. Training military personnel is our number one priority. The personal security and operations part of the business prevents operatives like me from getting rusty and keeps the satellite offices afloat, but the training program is the heart of the company.”
He gazed int
o his empty wineglass with disappointment. “I’d like to ask for another glass, but I feel guilty. On the one hand, I want to be there for Ava and keep building her trust. On the other, when I tell her I won’t be home for a few hours, I don’t want her to think she can manipulate me into running home for anything short of a real emergency. This could set a bad precedent.”
He waved a hand at the table. “And this sort of undermines my argument that this is work only. But it’s been months since I had a chance to enjoy an evening with another adult, and I like it.” One corner of his mouth kicked up, and he gave her a look that could only be described as…deliberate. “I like you.”
Heat flooded her. There was no mistaking his look or meaning. He was interested, and that was mighty convenient given her gathering lust. But only he knew the ins and outs of his relationship with Ava. She couldn’t pressure him either way. “I’m happy to offer you another glass of wine if that’s what you want, but the decision to stay or go needs to be yours alone.”
3
Josh met Madeline’s gaze, his heart beating at an inexplicably rapid rate. What did this attraction mean? All he knew was his desire to stay didn’t have anything to do with not setting a bad precedent for Ava.
Was this merely a shared taste in wine and respect for the work she was doing at the Kocher Mansion? Or because she was a foot shorter than him with brown hair and glasses? She was a close match to his idea of perfection. But he knew that even having an idea of perfection was beyond messed up. People came in all different shapes and backgrounds, and idealizing one type over another was wrong.
Still, knowing it was wrong didn’t change what he was attracted to, and Madeline pressed all his good buttons, and a few of the wonderfully bad ones. He lifted the glass from the coffee table and held it out to her. “I’d like to stay.”
Her eyes lit up, and she gave him a sweet, sexy smile. “Let me refill your wine, then.”
She returned with the bottle and poured them both a second glass, then dropped onto the sofa beside him, an inch or two closer than she’d sat before. She plucked an olive from the tray and popped it in her mouth, relaxed now. The tension had left her shoulders. “Want to see pictures of Trina from when we were in college?”
He startled, completely caught off guard by the question. Trina at twenty? He sort of did want to see that. But he shouldn’t. Wished he didn’t. He took a sip of wine as he searched for a response. “Hard to imagine Dr. Sorensen as an undergrad.”
“Right? But she was. Cute as a button too. I can prove it.” She rose from the love seat and crossed to a shelf full of photo albums. The woman had actual photo albums, with printed pictures and everything. He didn’t know anyone who still did that.
She returned to the sofa, and this time, she sat so close, he could feel her body heat. She placed the album between them. Opened, it was wide enough to cover both their laps.
“We met during summer term before our junior year. We were both taking history courses—her to get a jump on her major, me on my minor. The classes were small in the summer, and we shared notes and ended up pulling all-nighters studying together, quizzing each other.”
She flipped the pages, and there was Trina, looking exactly the same as she did now. When he first met her, he’d been surprised to learn she was thirty—she’d looked like she was twenty, twenty-five tops. Now thirty-five, she was still carded regularly. But in these photos, Trina really was twenty. She wore different glasses and her hair was longer, and she gave the camera flirty looks.
There were photos of the two women dancing, laughing, drinking. Playing board games. At an amusement park on Lake Erie called Cedar Point. As the pages turned, he realized the entire album was devoted to Dr. Trina Sorensen in all her moods.
He focused on a picture, tight on Trina’s face. She was beautiful, as always, but this photo said more about the photographer. He spoke his thought as it formed. “You were…in love with her?”
“Yes. For a while.”
He lifted his gaze from the Trina buffet. “And Trina? Did she love you?”
Madeline smiled and shook her head. “Not in the same way. We only kissed once. She…didn’t like it. I did.” She flipped the page, and there were pictures of the two of them in a restaurant, cheek to cheek, smiling for the camera. “It was thanks to my feelings for Trina that I realized I was bisexual. But she isn’t, so all we could be was friends.”
“Your feelings for her didn’t cause problems in your friendship?”
“At first, there was tension, but she wasn’t available to me in a very clear and final way. I had to accept that and figure out my own self. Plus, we didn’t pretend nothing had happened. We talked about it after the kiss that went nowhere.”
She smiled and leaned back against the cushion, lifting her arm to rest her elbow on the low back of the couch in the small space between them. “After that, every time she went on a bad date, she’d come home to our apartment and we’d watch a movie and eat Rocky Road ice cream, and she’d usually say something like, ‘Sometimes, I really wish I were gay.’ And I’d say, ‘Me too.’ But it was a joke, because I’d moved on. I dated women and men and did my best to figure out what I wanted.”
“And what did you learn?” His voice had gone husky at the intimacy of their position and conversation.
She leaned her head on the hand, bringing her face close to his. “That I can love both men and women, and betrayal hurts no matter the gender of the partner.”
“You’ve been burned. At least twice.”
“Yes.”
“Are you seeing anyone right now?”
“Nope. My last serious relationship ended a year ago.” She cocked her head. “So, tell me about you, Josh. What do you look for in a woman, assuming you aren’t gay?”
He smiled and leaned closer. “Not gay. Nor am I bi. In general, I like women who are short—like about a foot shorter than me. Brown hair. And who wear glasses.”
Her grin deepened. “That’s…very specific.”
“What can I say? I have a type. And you, Madeline? When it comes to men, do you have a type?”
“Tall, muscular. Maybe a bit badass and protective. Brown eyes. The kind of guy who will show up at a moment’s notice to help out a woman in distress.”
It was his turn to grin. “So, when you kissed Trina, did you ask first, or did it just happen?”
“I asked first.”
“Show me. How you kissed her. That one time.” His words came out in a husky whisper.
Her eyes flared hot, and she hesitated for the barest moment, then she leaned forward, closing the small bit of distance left between them, and pressed her mouth to his.
Her lips were soft as they brushed over his. Gentle. Welcoming but not demanding.
He parted his lips, and she did the same. The kiss started soft and languid, but the heat and taste of her lit a fire in him, and he cupped the back of her head as he took the kiss deeper, his tongue invading her warm mouth, stroking and tasting. He no longer thought of Trina or any other woman. Just Madeline, who tasted like a fine pinot noir and woke his body from a long coma.
His cock thickened, nudging at the photo album that remained open across their laps. He wanted to move the bulky item to the table, but didn’t want to end the kiss.
Madeline made the decision for him and inched closer, causing it to slide to the floor. He placed a hand on her waist and pulled her to him, until their bodies were as flush as possible given their positions on the couch. He left her mouth and ran his lips over her jaw and neck before finally raising his head and saying, “There must be something wrong with Treen, because you are a really excellent kisser.”
A laugh burst from her, her whole face alight. God, she was beautiful. He wanted to make her laugh like that again. Wanted to watch her face as he made her feel all sorts of emotions and sensations.
“Thank you. You’re a fine kisser yourself.”
He gripped the back of her hair and kissed her again, long and deep,
resisting the urge to pull her onto his lap. He wouldn’t bring her into contact with his heavy erection unless she wanted to be introduced.
Her hands stroked his shoulders and moved down his chest, exploring. She made sexy sounds as she ran her hands over his pecs, then shifted to his biceps and triceps.
Damn, he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d had a surprise make-out session with a beautiful woman. He wanted to savor this like a fine pinot. Sip her slowly. Enjoy the bouquet and complex flavors. She was crisp, sweet, and hot. He chuckled as he kissed her, remembering the term hot when applied to wine meant overly alcoholic. That might be apt here, because the longer they kissed, the more likely he was to get drunk on this feeling.
“What’s so funny?” she asked as her hands made their way to his abs.
“You are even more fine than the pinot.”
Her laugh was light, joyful, and utterly sexy. “I wish I hadn’t blown Trina off when she suggested we meet.”
His lips grazed her neck. “Same. But we’ve fixed that now.”
Her hand inched south, and he took that as permission to do his own exploring. The hand on her hip shifted to cup her ass. She had generous curves—very different from his previous preference—and felt so damn good in his arms.
Her exploring fingers reached the waistband of his slacks. She pulled at the fabric of his shirt, untucking the button-down and sliding her warm hands up beneath it to touch his bare abs. He copied her movements, sliding a hand under her top and grazing her ribs on the way north. His thumb brushed over her bra, finding a nipple, when the phone in his breast pocket vibrated.
She felt it too, and they separated, removing hands from under clothes, as if someone had walked into the room and they were breaking some sort of rule. They were both out of breath, and God, he was so damn hard, his dick pressed against his belt. He’d been able to ignore the pain of the restriction when forward progress was in the works, but now he had to shift to relieve the pressure before he could check his phone.
