Phish NET Stalkings

by Denise Robbins

  “David!” she yelled as soon as she left her little clunker of a truck. “David! Where are you?”

  David opened the front door and met her half way down his front steps. “What is it? Are you okay?” he asked, cupping his hands on both her shoulders.

  Out of breath, she panted, “Yes. You…” She took a deep breath. “You have to see this.”

  David wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her up the stairs and into the parlor where he had a small fire going.

  “Turn the light on, David. You have to see this.” While David went to hit the switch, Jane slid the frogs out of their protective socks and set them onto the coffee table.

  “Why did you bring those back here?” David asked with his brow furrowed.

  Jane tried to suck in more air and instead choked on laughter. She pulled the magazine out, flipped to the correct page, and held it open, pointing her finger at the article.

  “What the—”

  Jane watched as realization struck David speechless for the first time since she had known him. As his eyes took in the article, he ran his fingers through his dark, silver hair. He finally understood her excitement.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Jane covered her mouth and chuckled. “That’s the understatement of the century. You’re rich, David. Rich!” she exclaimed twirling about with her arms flung out at her sides.

  “No. You’re rich.”

  Jane stumbled, righted herself and stared unseeing at him. “What?”

  “I gave them to you as a gift. The frogs belong to you.”

  Hands fisted on hips, Jane narrowed her eyes. “Well, I don’t want them.”

  “Too bad.” David handed her the magazine. He turned and sat down in a wingback chair next to the fire.

  Jane spun after him. “Are you crazy?”

  Leaning forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees, David shook his head. “Not crazy. I’m just an old man who knows I don’t need money to be rich. I have everything I need. You don’t. You’re going to school on a measly savings that some relative left you. You work your tail off at odd jobs to pay for day-to-day living. By the time you graduate, you will be exhausted. Why not have your education paid for, your living expenses paid for, and be able to start your own business when you finish school rather than work for someone if you want.”

  Jane could not believe her ears. David was serious. Her heart squeezed as if in a vise. How had she been so lucky to have found a friend in David? A knot of emotion choked her up, but she managed to find the words. “I don’t want what was yours and Sara’s.” She moved closer to David, stood inches from his bowed head.

  Before she could continue, David grasped one of her hands. He peered up at her, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Jane, you’re like family to me. You’re the daughter Sara and I never had. Let me do this for you. Please.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. As much as she tried not to let them go, they fell anyway. Jane squeezed his fingers. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  David sat up straight and she smiled. She would throw the same offer he had given her the year before back at him and he knew it. Jane swiped at the tears, took a deep breath, and started over. “I’ll make you a deal. You teach me everything about herbs and how they can be used in cosmetics, be my chief consultant, and we will split the money from the frogs.”

  “Cosmetics?”

  “Yup.” She bobbed her head. “I want to start an organic cosmetics business.”

  Releasing her hand, David sat back and stared at her. “You don’t even wear makeup.”

  “Exactly. I can’t.” She wrinkled her freckled nose. “The chemicals either give me a rash or dry my skin.” Jane shook her head. “It’s not pretty.”

  Jane saw the corner of David’s mouth twitch. HA! She had him.

  “Come on. We’ll call it Not-so-plain-Jane’s.”

  The corners of David’s mouth lifted into a full-blown smile that lit the room.

  Jane stuck out her hand. “That’s the deal. Do we shake on it or what?”

  She waited while he rubbed a hand over the day old scruff on his chin. When she didn’t think she could wait any longer David enclosed her hand and shook.

  “Deal.”

  Five years later, Jane had exactly what she wanted, what she made a deal with David for, but now, she had to admit, she wanted more, and it had nothing to do with work. Smiling, she shook her head as she exited the same clunker truck she had owned forever. David had been right. There was more to life than work and success. Now if she could just find it. If she could just find love.

  TEN

  Damn! It was the coldest fall she could remember in a long time, Jane thought as a chilly breeze blew inside the truck when she opened the door and slipped out. Inside the Starbucks, she shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Brr.”

  “I agree with that,” a male voice said from behind her in line, close enough that his stale breath stirred her hair.

  She cupped her hands together, held them close to her face, and blew in a guise to ward off the foul odor. Didn’t the guy believe in brushing his teeth?

  “Can I help you?” the perky server with the pearly white teeth asked her.

  Jane stepped forward to the counter. “I’ll have a Venti Caramel Apple Spice.”

  “Anything from our pastry counter?” Little Miss Sunshine asked.

  She gave a cursory glance at the clear case.

  “The pumpkin spice pound cake looks promising,” the voice from behind her suggested.

  “It’s very good,” the young cashier added with hope, her fingers poised over the cash register.

  She hated to disappoint the girl. She probably worked on commission or her holiday bonus was based on how many pastries she sold. “Okay, sure.”

  Jane started to walk away from the counter when a hand on her arm stopped her, made her fumble her drink and almost drop it. “Ouch.” She was licking the hot cider from her hand when she glanced up at the hand’s owner and almost bobbled the cup again.

  Bob? She had never seen Bob at Starbucks before.

  “Funny running into you here,” he said.

  Was it funny? Had she told him she made frequent stops at Starbucks and that it was a Saturday ritual for her?

  “How are you, Jane?”

  She hated small talk. Especially with a man she had three dates with and realized she had nothing in common, and whose breath threatened to knock her unconscious. “I’m good. You?”

  “Very well. I enjoyed our date.”

  It took every ounce of control not to cringe. Her feet were still recovering from the trampling they took on the dance floor. “Uh, it was nice.”

  She glanced toward the door desperate to make her escape before he could ask her out. Shit! What could she use as an excuse? She had to go pick up David’s cinnamon rolls.

  “I was wondering—”

  “I’m really sorry, Bob, but I’ve got to run,” she interrupted. “I have a meeting with my business partner.” She checked her watch for good measure. “And I have one more stop to make. If I don’t rush out of here right now I’m going to be late.”

  “Yeah, but I was hoping we could talk, maybe arrange another date.”

  Damn! His sad puppy dog look only made her want to run even faster. She started to turn away and tossed over her shoulder. “Uh, great, you have my contact information. Let me know.” She turned and hit the door with her butt and walked out.

  “I’ll call you!” she heard before the door shut fully.

  She had no intention of going out with dear old Bob ever again, but he didn’t need to know that. Not in the middle of Starbucks. She blew out a sigh of relief once she got in her truck and started the engine. “That was close.”

  She hadn’t lied. She really did have a Saturday brunch date with her business partner and friend.

  ELEVEN

  David, wearing his favorite dungarees and a grin as wide as Texas greeted her at the bac
k steps to his home. “You’re late,” he said, leaning down and planting a kiss on her cheek.

  “I am not,” she protested as she stood on tiptoe and gave his cheek a peck and wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug. He was her family. Her only family. He wasn’t blood but he was the next best thing. He was someone she cared about and trusted. Trust was something she had never given to anyone. Not since someone killed her mother and Granny Pearl. Not since the day she took the identity of Jane C. East.

  “Mmm…mmm.” David gave her a big squeeze and released her. She fell back on her feet. “A man has to love a woman who smells as sweet as her personality.”

  Jane laughed and found comfort in the ritual greeting. She shook the bakery bag. “You just want your cinnamon roll. Or, maybe it’s the pumpkin spice pound cake you want.”

  David nodded and his dark-silver hair shone in the morning sunlight. He offered her the crook of his arm. “Come, my lady. I have fresh brewed coffee and just-squeezed orange juice waiting for us.”

  Her stomach grumbled in automatic response.

  “Sounds like you arrived just in time.” David chuckled and held the door for her.

  Once inside, he filled cups and she retrieved plates, napkins, and utensils. She warmed the rolls up for ten seconds in the microwave then placed them on plates and carried them to the table where she took a seat across from David, who was watching her over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “What?” she asked with a hint of belligerence then took a bite of the pastry in an attempt to avoid his gaze.

  “Hmm.”

  Hmm? What the heck kind of interrogation technique was that? “Hmm, what?”

  David lifted and dropped his wide shoulders. Even at age seventy, he was still strong and tall and could be very intimidating when his brilliant blue eyes bored into a person’s soul. As they did hers, right now. She paused with the fork half way to her mouth when he sat back and crossed his arms.

  On a deep sigh, she set the fork down on the plate, shoved back her hair, and clasped her fingers together as she rested her forearms on the smooth wood surface of the table. “I met a man last night.”

  “I knew it.” David slapped the table then picked up his coffee mug. “Go on.” The cup was almost to his lips when he pulled it back and narrowed his blue gaze on her. “Don’t tell me you’re talking about that geeky accountant guy you found on the computer dating service.”

  “No,” she whined and took a sip of her juice. “Not the geeky accountant.” She gave an involuntary shiver and tucked her bare feet further beneath the chair in a protective gesture at the thought of the man crushing her toes on the dance floor.

  “Details. Please.”

  Jane rolled her eyes and groaned inwardly. Taking a deep breath, she let the whole story out in one long stream of verbal purging. She told him everything. All the sordid details. Well, almost everything. She kept the earth-shattering orgasm to herself. She didn’t think David would want to or needed to know that part.

  “You didn’t know he was a cop before you went home with him?”

  She shook her head.

  Leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, his coffee cup between his hands, David continued to ask questions. “Why did you go home with a complete stranger?”

  Jane shrugged.

  “I know you, Jane.” He set his cup down, reached across the table and covered her hand with his. She felt so comforted by those strong hands whose knuckles were just beginning show the effects of arthritis.

  “There had to be a reason. What made him different from any other?”

  With her lower lip tucked between her teeth, Jane stared down at the old hand covering hers. What had made her go home with Cooper, a complete stranger? She closed her eyelids and the answer flew into her mind. That first kiss. “That damn first kiss,” she muttered.

  She could see it now as clearly as if Cooper stood right in front of her. His right arm wrapped around her waist, his left hand on the nape of her neck as he drew her into him. His musky scent, the slight upturn at the corner of his lips as he eased her to his body and the shock of excitement that coursed through her body as their hips and chest met. That brush of his lips across hers felt as if a breeze teased the sensitive flesh. Heat catapulted her over some invisible cliff when his mouth crushed hers and his tongue danced with hers in a tango of give and take. It was the toes. The toes did it. The minute he maneuvered her even closer and she felt his arousal pressed against her, his kiss turned gentle, but no less demanding. It shifted from combustible heat to a slow, mind-altering burn. Her toes curled.

  Jane’s eyes flew open. A pounding on the front door startled her back to the present. David sat still, unmoving, with one arched silver brow, waiting.

  “Don’t you want to get the door?” she asked in desperation.

  “Answer the question. Why him?”

  “Oh, David. I’ll get the door.”

  Tugging her hand from beneath his, she stood and started past him when he snaked an arm out and captured one of her wrists in his large hand. “CJ.”

  He spoke her name. Her real name. That was all it took. She tipped her head back and blew out a breath then straightened and looked him square in the eye. Another loud knock reverberated through the Victorian house and into the kitchen. She ignored it. “His kiss made my toes curl. There. You satisfied?”

  Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she started out of the kitchen. David’s laughter boomed behind her as she hurried through the parlor with its Tiffany lamps glinting, and polished mahogany gleaming in the sunlight through the bay window. She turned the crystal knob and tugged the heavy front door open. She stood there, heart pounding, her mouth agape.

  “Who is it, Jane?”

  Her lips moved but no sound came out.

  “Cooper. Cooper Chance,” Cooper answered, crossing the threshold.

  When he passed her with his hand extended to David, her senses returned. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, one hand fisted on her hip, the other still poised on the doorknob.

  His hand in Cooper’s, David arched a brow at her. She knew that look. That was his non-verbal question for “The Cooper?”

  “Isn’t this a lovely surprise,” David commented. “We were just talking about you.”

  Jane gasped, narrowed her brown eyes on him then pursed her lips. Was he crazy? Why would he say such a thing? She turned her gaze at Cooper. One corner of his mouth curled up and his steel-blue eyes stared at her in a dare. Was that a grin he was attempting to hide?

  “Have a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d love some, sir.”

  “David. Call me David. Follow me to the kitchen.”

  Jane stood there dumbfounded, blinking in disbelief. David just invited the one man she wanted, no needed to avoid into his house for coffee. What was he thinking?

  “Shut the door, Jane. You’re letting the cold inside,” David yelled from the hallway.

  Jane did as instructed, slamming it with a loud bang. She cringed when the knickknacks on the entry table jiggled. She shook her head and followed in the wake of the two men who had just tipped her world off center. Again.

  She entered the kitchen just as David asked, “So you’re the pink undie detective?”

  Jane gasped and slapped a hand over her face. Coffee sputtered from Cooper’s mouth, spraying the table and his sweatshirt. “I’ll get a cloth,” she said then folded her lips in and bit back the laughter that threatened to burst out as she walked to the sink.

  She told him? Cooper eyed Jane as she scurried across the tile floor to the sink while he attempted to wipe away the warm liquid from his sweatshirt and avoid the gaze of the old man who had timed his question with perfection. She wiped the table with swift efficiency. When the rag whipped out and hit his mug, he snatched it up out of harm’s way before she sent it flying into his lap. Nerves, or on purpose?

  Jane spun around so quick the rag slapped him in the chest. If he had been a shorter man, it would have
been his face. She stood there with the rag poised in her hand and waited, holding the wet cloth for him to take. “You don’t want to clean me up too?” he asked in the sweetest voice he could muster.

  All manner of expressions crossed Jane’s face as she contemplated his question. Her eyes flicked up as if searching for an answer. Her mouth curved ever so slightly at one corner. They formed into a slight pout, before her lower lip slid between her teeth and bit down. That was when she made eye contact with him. Cooper arched one brow and held his tongue.

  “Give me your shirt,” she blurted.

  Of all the things he imagined her saying to him—that was not one of them. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you have a T-shirt under that?” Jane aimed a finger at his chest indicating his sweatshirt.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Take it off. Um, I mean take…take the sweatshirt off,” she said and walked away. “I’ll put it in the wash.”

  Damn, she was gorgeous when she blushed. The prettiest pink color flushed her neck and two tiny spots on her cheeks. She looked like a cherub, all innocence. He watched her walk away, the sway of those sexy hips and recalled how he had cupped those cheeks in his hands while she writhed beneath the onslaught of his tongue.

  A throat clearing reminded him that they were not alone. He shifted in his seat, adjusted his hormones, and pulled his gaze from Jane’s ass to the man sitting across the table from him.

  David watched him, his eyes flicking back and forth between him and Jane. Then David smiled, a wide grin splitting his face in humor.

  “Excuse me for a second.” Cooper set his mug on the table and stood. In one swift movement, he jerked the sweatshirt up over his head. Crossing the small tile floor, he strode up behind Jane, whose back was to them. He reached around and held the sweatshirt in front of her, not touching her. Her gaze was riveted out the tiny window over the sink.

  “Anything interesting out there?” he murmured as close to her as he dare with her father, friend, or other relative in the same room.