by Lisa Harris
She drew in a steadying breath. All this hiding was making her crazy. She needed to turn her thoughts to something else. “So tell me about your childhood. Where did you grow up?” She reached for the towel.
“Right here on the island.” He pointed with the knife. “Just down the street, in fact. My parents and Holden’s grandparents were neighbors. They were the old money on this island.”
“Oh, how nice. Were they friends?”
He nodded. “They were. But my parents were a little younger. They weren’t my biological parents actually. They adopted me when I was nine, after my birth mother chose her alcohol over me.” There was a bitter edge to the words.
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.” She flipped the chicken and sprinkled it with seasoning.
Behind her, Jay’s knife clanged onto the marble of the kitchen island.
She jumped a little at the loud sound but didn’t allow herself to look at him. She willed herself to breathe. Constantly being on edge was going to give her heartburn if she wasn’t careful. “Your biological father wasn’t in the picture?” She turned to rinse her hands of a few oil splatters.
“Not at that time.” He offered the clipped words as he carefully sliced two avocados in half.
Sensing that he wasn’t comfortable with this conversation she tried to ease her way out of it. “So are your adoptive parents still living?”
“No.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Now what?
He looked up. “Sorry. I realize I sound...” He waved a hand. “I just miss my parents. Being alone isn’t easy.”
Boy, did she understand that feeling. She was tempted to skirt the subject, but with her own parents’ passing, she found catharsis when people asked her about them. She always hated the start of the conversation, but by the end she relished the memories elicited and enjoyed the chance to reminisce about the wonderful people they were. So she pressed ahead. “I’ve lost both my parents, so I understand that feeling well. How did your parents pass?”
Jay ran the tip of the knife through the flesh of the avocado cupped in his hand. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such diligent attention paid to cutting a piece of fruit before. “My dad was a county sheriff, killed in the line of duty. My mother died a couple years later of a broken heart, I think. It was like she simply lost her will to enjoy life after Dad passed.”
“Something similar happened with my mom. But it was her mind that went. She lived in a care facility for a while because I wasn’t able to nurse her like she needed when I was in college.”
Jay glanced up. “I’m sorry.” His gaze held hers and for the first time that night, she felt a connection. She eased out a breath. This was fine. Everything was going to be fine.
He had kind eyes. Warm hazel with maple flecks. His lips tilted.
“This is nice. A guy could get used to making dinner with a beautiful lady.” There was a keen interest in the way his gaze swept over her that put her feminine sensibilities on alert.
She gave him a squint. “Just wait until I put you to work washing dishes. Then you’ll reconsider.”
He chuckled and offered a wink. “Not if you’re standing by my side.”
She cleared her throat and reached for the tomatoes. “How did you decide to become an officer?” Maybe the change to a more serious topic would send him the right message. She didn’t want him to think there could be anything more between them.
The paradox of that thought hit her. Why was she longing for the non-existent attention of one handsome officer, but not willing to even consider it with another? She pushed the question aside, realizing that she’d missed the first half of Jay’s answer.
“...so all that to say, I guess I was following in my dad’s footsteps.”
“I’m sure he would be proud of you.” She let the conversation trail away then, content to let the silence ride.
He was polite for the rest of the evening, and she felt certain he’d accepted her unspoken message, but part way through the meal he grew silent and a little sullen. For reasons Camryn couldn’t put her finger on, her tension slowly climbed back to the height of its previous peak.
As soon as they were done eating and she’d cleaned up the dishes, she excused herself to go to her room.
And when she got there, she locked the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Camryn had finally been able to relax the evening before once she heard Holden return just after ten. She’d had a better night, but still woke early and couldn’t fall back to sleep. Finally giving up on the hope of more rest, she rose and showered, then padded down to the kitchen.
Hopefully some more of her packages would arrive today. Last night before falling to sleep, she’d hand-washed some of her new clothes and laid them out to dry. It felt wonderful to be dressed in something besides Holden’s baggy things, even if it was only a pair of jeans and a sweater.
She set his credit card in the middle of the kitchen island, wanting to remind herself to give it back to him. She’d felt it in the pocket of his sweats this morning when she’d changed out of them.
Holden wasn’t up. She looked around the kitchen, debating the merits of making herself at home, but then decided she could call it a return for his kindness if she fixed breakfast. A cast-iron skillet sitting on the back burner of the stove triggered her memory of her grandmother’s German pancakes and blueberry compote.
The fridge didn’t reveal any blueberries, but there was a tub of strawberries that would be just as good. And it did contain the eggs and milk she needed.
She was halfway through the meal preparation when Holden stepped into the room. He yawned massively and scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, causing several tufts to poke out at odd angles. His bare feet protruded below the cuffs of hip-slung jeans and a taut black T-shirt drew her attention to the play of shadow and light over an appealingly-sculpted torso.
She swiped a wrist across her damp forehead. Was it getting hot in here? This new sweater must be warmer than others she was used to. She resisted a self-deprecating roll of her eyes.
It was only when he propped his hands on his hips and settled an inscrutable gaze on her that she considered she might have misjudged her welcome in a near-stranger’s kitchen.
She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry if I overstepped.”
“Not at all.” He shook his head.
“Oh. The way you were looking at me, I kind of thought I might have?”
He roughed a hand through his hair and looked toward the coffee pot. “Ah no. I was just thinking... Never mind. I’ll make coffee.”
Okay then. What had that been about?
After he’d filled the basket with grounds, he glanced over at her. “You look nice.” He banged the lid of the coffee pot down as though irritated.
“Thank you.” Camryn returned her focus to her task, willing away the warmth in her cheeks, and reminding herself not to make more of his obviously grudging compliment than it was. If not grudging, it had certainly been taciturn. She only wished she knew why.
The oven appeared to have reached the right temperature. She popped the skillet in and set the timer, then set to wiping up the counter and putting ingredients away. Several times she and Holden had to swap positions, but they worked seamlessly and silently together.
After he got the coffee going, he hovered near the pot like a vulture.
She grinned at him as she sliced strawberries. “Does it drip faster when you glare at it?”
His lips quirked. “I’m one hundred and five percent certain that it does.”
She chuckled and was turning her attention back to her task when she felt the knife bite into her thumb. She gasped and dropped the blade. It clattered into the sink.
“You all right?” He was by her side in an instant, leaning past her shoulder.
She turned on the faucet and thrust her thumb beneath the water. “Yes. I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad.”
“Uh-huh. The water’s turning r
ed.” He snatched a handful of paper towels. “Here.” He took her hand and pressed the towels firmly around her thumb. Then his focus honed in on her face. “How’s your pain?”
She squirmed beneath his concern and looked away. “I’m sure it’s only cut a little. I really don’t feel much. I’m more bothered that I might have ruined the strawberries.”
“Don’t worry about that. There’s plenty in the bowl. The few on the cutting board won’t be a big loss.”
He bent over her hand and eased the paper towels away from her thumb.
Blood immediately oozed and he clamped the compress tight again, lifting his gaze to hers once more. Concern furrowed his brow. “I think this needs stitches.”
She shook her head. The last thing she needed was to spend money on frivolous medical bills. “I really don’t think it cut that deep. I must have clipped it in the wrong spot. Let’s just wrap it with some padding and a tight Band-Aid and see if the bleeding will stop on its own.”
His lips thinned. “If I didn’t need to keep you hidden, I’d insist that we go to the clinic right away. But as it stands, I think you might be right.”
“Of course I’m right. Don’t you know the lady is always right?” She smiled, hoping to ease his tension.
But when he smiled back at her and said softly, “I’ll have to remember that,” it only caused her pulse to skitter erratically.
He was still standing close, her hand held firmly in his own. His gaze roved from her hairline, to her cheeks, then flicked up to meet her glance.
Her mouth felt dry. She darted her tongue across her lips and held her breath, summoning all her willpower to remember she’d only met the man a few days ago and that, especially from his perspective, this was a business relationship and nothing more. Yet, if he truly felt that way, why was he looking at her like this?
What could it hurt to see if they had something here? Maybe they could make a relationship work? She’d certainly be willing to try.
As if he’d read her thoughts, his gaze lowered to her lips, and for a moment the world all around them seemed frozen. But then he blinked, cleared his throat, and stepped back. “Here. You hold this.” He wrapped her free hand around the paper towels. “I’ll go get the Band-Aids and ointment and be right back.” He left, practically on the run.
Camryn blew out a breath and sagged against the counter. She’d obviously been deprived of close relationships for too long if she’d thought even for a moment the man might step out from behind the shield of his duty.
By the time he returned, she had gathered herself. Resigned herself to the fact that he obviously had no interest in pursuing anything. It was fine. She was used to being alone. It wouldn’t kill her.
He worked quickly to help her bandage her thumb, and the timer for the pancake went off just as he finished.
She smiled at him. “Thanks. If you don’t mind grabbing that from the oven, I’ll get the bowl of good strawberries and meet you at the table.”
He nodded. “Can do.”
Holden set the cast-iron skillet in the middle of the table, eyeing the steamy golden dough that had partially climbed the sides of the pan. It looked delicious. Was certainly nice to have a woman in the kitchen. As good as bacon and eggs were, that was about the limit of his culinary skills for breakfast.
He glanced up as she set two mugs and the coffee pot on the table, her thumb jutted off to one side. He really needed to have that talk with her that he’d been putting off.
She went back to the kitchen for the bowl of strawberries and a small pitcher of cream.
By the time she returned and sank into her seat, he was ready. “Listen, Camryn…”
She met his gaze, brows slightly arched.
“In the kitchen… I need you to know it’s not that I don’t find you attract—”
“You don’t need to explain. It’s okay.” She looked out the window, cheeks pink.
“No, I really do. You see, I do find you attractive. But that can only complicate things since I’m supposed to protect you. Letting emotions get involved could make me overlook something I shouldn’t.” He swallowed. “I know that from experience. Understand?”
Slowly she pulled her attention back to him. “You lost someone?”
He nodded. Turned his coffee cup in circles. Concentrated hard on compartmentalizing the emotions this topic always dredged up.
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
“More so because it was my fault.”
She tilted her head. “I can’t imagine that’s true.”
He studied the dusting of powdered sugar she’d put on the strawberries. “She was naïve of the danger her father’s political leanings had put her in. She liked to shop. I told her not to go, but I fell asleep and she left to go to her favorite boutique.” He clamped his teeth hard.
“She should have listened to you.”
He nodded. “But I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I relaxed. Thought she would comply because of what we meant to each other.”
Camryn lifted a knife and cut a generous portion of the thick pancake from the pan and set it on his plate. “I promise not to do anything you tell me not to do. How’s that? I mean—” Her eyes widened. “Not that I have aspirations of us meaning anything to each other or…you know…anything.” She couldn’t seem to look him in the face.
He fiddled with the fork by his plate. She was entirely too adorable.
She continued to babble. “I simply want you to know you don’t have to worry about me not doing what you say. And I really do understand everything you’re saying.”
He felt himself relax a little. She’d taken all this a lot better than he’d expected her to. “Good. Thank you.”
She smiled and handed him the bowl of strawberries. “How did your portion of the watch go last night?”
A segue so he could move on from the painful past. He appreciated that.
“It was dull. Exactly the way I like it.” He scooped some berries onto his plate and then handed the bowl to her. “Did Jay behave himself?”
She seemed deeply intent on spreading berries evenly over her pancake. And she was blushing again.
His stomach curled. “Uh-huh. Just as I thought. The kid is a professional flirt.”
She twirled a forkful of pancake in some strawberry juice and lifted her gaze to him. “You don’t have to worry about me falling for his wiles. I’m not interested in him.”
And for some reason, even though he’d just told her they couldn’t have a relationship, her statement filled him with relief.
The rest of breakfast was a bit strained, and he was happy to finish the last of his meal and see her do the same.
He stood and took her plate. “Just sit. That thumb of yours doesn’t need to get wet. I’ll do the dishes.”
She rose with him and picked up the strawberry bowl and the pitcher of cream. “I can help with some of it. There’s plenty to do that won’t require me to get my hands wet. It was me who made the mess in there, after all.”
“But it was me who got to enjoy your cooking.” He smiled, hoping to return to a measure of their camaraderie from the past couple days. But she was already headed to the kitchen. Again, he half expected her to set her things down and leave, but she stayed, making a couple return trips to clear the table while he loaded the dishwasher.
They moved together as though they had done this a thousand times before. And the chore was finished before he was ready to part from her company. But they both had work to do, and he had to admit that the less time he spent with her, the better it would be for both of them.
Besides, he still needed to finish looking over the files in Lexington and Packard’s dirty cop cases. From what he’d seen, they were right. Someone in their department had to be on the take, but so far, he hadn’t found a clue as to who it might be.
Tonight’s meeting took place in the empty basement of a closed-down theater.
Soren Bane arrived first. Carter Cranston puffed in
a few minutes later.
But there was a third presence at this meeting. An iPad sat on a rickety table and the face of Kirk Vossler filled the screen.
Soren and Carter stood side by side, facing the table.
“You’re late.” Vossler glowered.
Cranston brushed the comment away, without concern. “Had an unavoidable meeting go long. Nothing I could do about it.”
“Don’t forget who’s padding your pockets with this deal.” Vossler’s beady eyes glittered from the screen.
Soren snorted. “None of this would be possible if you didn’t have us, Vossler, and don’t you forget it. We’re the ones who’ve done all the legwork.”
Cranston glanced at him.
He shrugged. Just because they weren’t normally on the same side of anything didn’t mean he was going to let this crook Vossler think he was the one running this show. They were all running it, whether he hated his partners or not.
“Is everything set?” Vossler’s tone was that of a man trying to regain the upper hand.
Soren met Carter’s gaze. “My people are set.”
Carter nodded. “Mine too.”
“Excellent.” Vossler rubbed his hands. “Then I wish each of you well and offer my congratulations on the wealth each of you will soon be inundated with.”
Soren withheld a snort. It would be years yet before any of them saw a huge profit from this. But he was willing to wait. Building wealth took time. “Keep your ears tuned to the news. By this time tomorrow, the first step will be complete.”
He reached out and shut off the Zoom call without giving Vossler time to respond. Another little message to him that he wasn’t the one in charge.
Cranston chuckled. He held out a hand. “All the best to you, Soren. Too bad we part ways here, because, surprised as I am to say it, I’m coming to appreciate you.”
Soren nodded. And for the first time, he actually felt a measure of camaraderie with the man next to him. He took the man’s hand. “Best of success.”
