by Lisa Jackson
The room was empty. He blinked as he swung back around with the gun in his hand and faced her.
Willa stood smiling smugly. “I think we need to establish some ground rules,” she said calmly, although he could see she was anything but.
“That was just a ruse?”
She cocked her head at him, still smiling. “Just like that kiss of yours was to make me think I could trust you.”
He holstered his weapon, eyeing her warily. He understood now how she had managed to survive this long. And maybe the kiss had started out that way, but it had changed. He thought about calling her on it. She’d felt something. He knew because he’d felt it, too. But she was right about them needing some ground rules.
“Have you heard the story about the little boy who cried wolf?” he asked as he stepped closer.
“I like the one about the wolf in sheep’s clothing better,” she said, and held up her hand. “That’s close enough. Rule number one: Keep your hands off me.”
He grinned. “That won’t be easy given that your neighbors think we’re lovers and up here right now going at it on your bed.”
She flushed and he had a flash of the two of them on the bed doing just that. He took a step back as he felt himself grow hard at the thought.
“What?” she asked, frowning.
He looked at her. Was she serious? “How many men have you been with?”
“What?”
He let out an oath and took another step back. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
Landry looked horrified and Willa wanted to defend virgins all over the world. Instead, she kept her mouth shut, her face flushing and giving her away.
He let out another curse. “How old are you anyway?”
“Twenty-five, and you’re wrong. I’ve been with plenty of men.” She groaned inwardly. Why had she said that?
He started to laugh, shaking his head as he stared at her. “Twenty-five? Aren’t there any able-bodied men in South Dakota?”
“No, there’s only sheep,” she snapped. “Of course there are men, and I told you, I’ve been with my share.” Her chin went up.
“Then all the men are with the sheep,” he said with a laugh.
“That isn’t funny.” Her voice broke.
He stopped laughing. “Sorry.”
“Could we just concentrate on finding the painting and you stop ruining my life?”
He nodded solemnly. “I haven’t ruined your life. At least I hope not.” He took another step back.
“Would you stop treating me like I have some communicable disease?”
“Sorry. It’s just that you’re an attractive woman and I don’t want to be the one who deflowers you.”
She groaned. Deflower? Could she be any more mortified? “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I would want you anyway.”
“You’re right. The first time should be with someone you love. Someone who respects you and wants your first time to be something wonderful.”
“Could you please stop?” His words were getting to her. How could he sound so sensitive when she knew he was just the opposite? And he was still looking at her as if she was a freak of nature.
Was it possible that she could hate Landry Jones any more? Obviously it was. She glared at him, wanting to convince him he was wrong about her, but at the same time knowing she would be wasting her breath.
“The storage unit is in Everglades City,” she burst out.
He blinked at her.
“Let’s go,” she said, and started for the door.
“Hold on,” he said, grabbing her arm and then quickly letting go of it. “Sorry, forgot the ground rules,” he said, acting as if she’d burned him.
She narrowed her gaze at him. It wasn’t the ground rules that had made him behave the way he had. Men like Landry Jones didn’t obey rules. The man was probably a killer, a dirty cop; he certainly was no gentleman. So why was he acting as if she had the plague because he thought she was a virgin? She’d bet he’d taken his share of virgins. So why draw the line with her? She felt insulted.
“We have to wait until everyone goes to bed around here,” he said. “We can’t just take off. Not unless we want to be followed by whoever tried to kill you earlier.”
She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been too angry with Landry. “Fine.”
“In the meantime I think we should take Odell up on his offer of a steak.”
“You have to be kidding.” Having dinner with someone who wanted to kill her was the last thing on her mind.
“I would think a woman from South Dakota would eat beef.”
She glared at him, still too angry with him to be civil. “Lamb and mutton, remember, all those sheep.”
He laughed and glanced in her fridge. “Cottage cheese and fruit or yogurt.” He closed the door. “Definitely think we should go to the barbecue.”
“Fine.” She didn’t give him a chance to say anything as she stalked into the bedroom and started to close the door.
“No!” she cried. The next thing she knew Landry was at her side, his weapon in hand.
“Wait.” Landry reached for her but she dodged his outstretched hand and rushed to her box of supplies.
“Oh, no,” she said again as she dropped to her knees and began going through the box of supplies.
“What is it?” Landry asked after he quickly searched the bedroom and bathroom.
“Someone’s gone through my things, only this time at least they didn’t take my painting.”
“Someone took a painting?” He sounded panicked.
From the floor, she looked up at him and mugged a face. “Not the painting you’re interested in. This was one I did yesterday.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you take it?”
“No, why would I?” He looked insulted.
“Maybe it was Alma then. I smelled gardenias.”
“Gardenias,” he repeated, looking lost.
Nothing appeared to be missing this time, but someone had definitely gone through her stuff and she had to wonder who else had a key to her apartment. She felt violated, which seemed crazy since she was already running for her life and now living with a possible killer. What could be worse than that? Having someone paw through her private things.
“What was the painting?” Landry asked, hunching down on the floor next to her. He seemed concerned by how upset she was. Or maybe he was just worried that the same thief had his painting.
“It was—” she hesitated, remembering the painting “—of the murder in front of the gallery.”
He winced. “Of me?”
She nodded, and he swore softly.
“Great,” he said.
She glanced toward the painting on the easel, wondering why whoever had taken the other painting hadn’t taken this one.
He shoved to his feet with a sigh. “Show me all of the paintings you have.”
She looked up at him. “I told you the one you want isn’t here.”
“Or I can look myself,” he said, his jaw muscle tightening.
She stood, copying his sigh. She crossed her arms. Her clothing had finally dried out some but she still felt half-naked around him. She couldn’t help but think of the kiss, of what it felt like being in his arms, or the look on his face when she’d rushed from those arms and fooled him, she thought with a smile.
“What?”
She shook her head. “Go ahead. I know you aren’t going to be happy until you’ve convinced yourself the painting you’re looking for isn’t here, so do it. Why don’t you start with the bathroom? Then I’d like to bathe and change into some other clothes.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with what you have on.” His gaze swept over her.
She looked down, not surprised to see that her nipples were hard in response to his look and now pressed against the thin material of her bra and shirt. She cursed her body for betraying her around him.
“I think I can dispense with searching the bathroom for a painting,” he said, smiling smugly at her
. He probably thought she enjoyed the kiss. Well, he was wrong. She was just playing along, letting him think he had her under his spell. No matter what her body thought, she was too smart to fall for anything Landry Jones was offering. But it did still annoy her the way he’d reacted when he thought she was a virgin.
She took some clothing from the chest of drawers—a pair of cropped pants, a shirt and some of the under-garments her mother had purchased for her back in South Dakota. She didn’t feel safe in the skimpy underthings she’d bought since being in Florida.
As she shot a glance at Landry, she wasn’t surprised to find he’d been watching her. He was looking smug, as if he knew why she’d chosen clothing that covered more of her body. What arrogance.
She groaned and stalked into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it. She could hear him searching the apartment and closed her eyes for a moment, imagining him going through the chest of drawers and her thong underwear.
Reminding herself that Landry in her underwear drawer was the least of her worries, she opened her eyes and reached in to turn on the shower—and screamed.
CHAPTER TEN
Landry practically flew into the bathroom, throwing open the door and almost knocking Willa down as he burst in, weapon drawn.
The bathroom was small and it only took him an instant to see that none of Freddy D.’s men were hiding in it. He heard a soft rustle and looked toward the bathtub.
The shower curtain was partially drawn back—just enough that he couldn’t miss what was lying in the tub.
He flinched at the sight of the huge snake coiled in the bottom of the bathtub. He gently stepped back, putting Willa behind him as he did so. The snake was watching him through narrow slits, its tongue flicking from its wide flat head.
He’d seen his share of rattlesnakes, but this one had to be over six feet long—and appeared ready to strike.
In one quick movement, he was through the bathroom door and had the door between he and Willa and the snake. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to look at her.
Her face was stark white, her eyes wide and scared, her hands trembling.
“What was that?” she whispered.
He grinned. “Don’t they have rattlesnakes in South Dakota?”
“Not that big.”
He chuckled and looked around for something to get the snake out of her tub.
“How did it get in there?”
“It came up through the pipes.” He turned to look at her. She didn’t really believe that, did she?
She’d sat down on the end of the bed but instead of looking scared, she looked angry. “It’s whoever shot at me in the trees.”
He didn’t correct her as he opened the broom closet in the kitchen and pulled out a mop with a strip of sponge held in by eight inches of metal.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, sounding scared again as he passed her.
“I’m going to get the snake out of the tub, unless you want to shower with it.” He opened the bathroom door quietly and slipped into the bathroom, moving behind the shower curtain. He could hear the snake trying to get out of the high old-fashioned tub. He took a breath and drew back the shower curtain with one hand, the mop handle in the other.
The snake turned at the sound, but Landry was faster. He slammed down the base of the mop, pinning the snake’s head to the bottom of the tub, then gingerly he reached in and grabbed the snake behind the head and picked it up.
It twisted in his grasp. It was one heavy snake. As he stepped out of the bathroom, Willa let out a startled cry.
“Is it dead?”
“Not hardly.” He moved to the back window near the couch, opened the window and pushed out the screen. Standing on the couch, he raised the snake and slid it through the open window, grabbing its tail to slow its fall as the snake disappeared.
“You let it go?” She sounded horrified.
“It was just a snake,” he said, stepping down off the couch. “No reason to kill it.”
Willa stared at him as if she’d never seen Landry Jones before. What kind of man couldn’t kill a rattlesnake?
“You can take your bath now,” he said.
She stared at him a moment longer then turned toward the bathroom, a little leery of what else she might find in there. “Are you sure—”
“Would kind of be overkill to have anything else in there, don’t you think?”
Still she looked around before she turned on the faucet. It was probably one of the faster showers she’d ever taken, quickly washing off the sand and salt, shampooing her short hair and rinsing off.
She dried herself and dressed, feeling better as if wearing armor in the old-lady bra and panties that came up to her waist could protect her from her emotions. She couldn’t help but think about Landry Jones. Just about the time she thought she had him figured out, he surprised her.
She gazed at her image in the mirror, dressed in the capris and tea-length sleeved blouse. She looked like the virgin she was, she thought with a self-deprecating smile.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, she found Landry standing by her bed holding a framed photograph. “These your parents?”
It was all she could do not to stomp over to him and snatch it from him. He already knew too much about her. “Yes.”
“You grew up on a farm?” He seemed interested. Then she remembered that he was probably just wondering if she’d shipped some of her paintings home.
She walked over and took the photograph from him, unable to resist tracing her fingers over her father’s face before setting it back down, then changing her mind and sticking it faceup in the top drawer.
“The paintings aren’t in South Dakota,” she snapped, angry with him for even pretending to care about her or her family.
“I wasn’t—” He shook his head. “Never mind.” He glanced around the apartment. “The painting isn’t here.”
She gave him a duh look. “I believe I already told you that.”
He nodded. “Missouri, remember?”
She remembered.
“I grew up on a farm, too. Dirt-poor.”
She felt her expression soften. “Me, too.”
He nodded and chewed at his cheek. “It was tough. I never wanted to be rich but I knew I had to do better than that.”
“I know what you mean.”
“You’re making it as an artist. That’s really something,” he said with what almost sounded like admiration in his voice.
“Well, I was starting to.”
He winced. “Sorry, but once this is over, you can get another studio, have a bunch more shows. It will be great.” He actually sounded like he believed that.
“Thanks. What about you?”
Landry sighed. “I really don’t know. I can’t see myself going back to it. Undercover work. I guess I didn’t realize how much I was starting to really fit into the role of bad guy. Maybe that’s what happened to Zeke. He got so used to playing the part, it became who he was.” Landry shrugged. “What happened with him changed things for me.”
She could see that. She just wasn’t sure in what way. They both started at the knock on the apartment door, then Odell’s voice. “Willie?”
“Willie?” Landry whispered.
“Willie?” Odell called again.
“Go ahead, answer him,” Landry whispered.
“Just a minute,” she called.
Landry smiled. “He’s going to think we’re in bed.”
She felt her face heat as she pushed past him and went to the door. She’d rather take her chances with Odell than Landry anyday, she told herself.
“Hey,” she said, smiling as she opened the door.
Odell seemed surprised by the greeting. True, she hadn’t been even a little friendly before this. His gaze took her in. “You look…great.”
Did she? She glanced toward the large stained mirror on the wall, surprised to see that her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Past her reflection, she saw Landry’s. He was wa
tching her closely, grinning as if he knew exactly what had put the color in her cheeks, the gleam in her eyes.
She turned back to Odell and waited for him to remember what he was doing here.
“You’re still up for a barbecue, right?” Odell hesitated and Willa felt Landry come up behind her. “I was about to put the steaks on.”
“Steaks.” Landry sounded so hopeful.
“I have them marinating.”
“He’s marinating the steaks,” Landry said to her. Odell didn’t notice but Willa could hear the sarcasm in Landry’s voice.
“We’d love to join you,” she said, knowing there was no graceful way out of this. Her other option was to spend the rest of the evening in this tiny apartment with Landry. Just the two of them.
“Great.” Odell seemed surprised but happy they would be joining him.
“What can I bring?” Willa asked, then remembered how little food she had in the fridge. It had been just a reflex from South Dakota. “I have the makings for s’mores.”
“Oh, girl, you’ll kill me,” Henri called up. “S’mores? I’m going to think I died and went to heaven. Can you believe I forgot chocolate? One of the basic food groups right up there with wine.”
It sounded as if Henri had already been hitting the wine pretty hard.
“See you soon then,” Odell said, glancing into the apartment. Actually glancing toward the bedroom.
Past Landry she saw that the covers were on the floor, the sheets rumpled. She stared back at the bed in shock.
Landry stepped in front of both hers and Odell’s views, blocking the bed.
“Great,” Odell repeated, sounding less enthusiastic as he turned to walk away. He spun back around almost at once though. “I’m sorry. I never caught your name,” he said to Landry.
“Tim. Tim Patterson,” Landry said without even blinking at the lie, and she was reminded that lying was second nature for him as an undercover cop. He held out his hand to Odell.
“Tim.” Odell shook his hand then nodded to Willa. He looked suspicious. But then she thought everyone did.
She closed the door and leaned against it as she looked at Landry. “You did that to my bed?”
