by Lori Foster
One way or another, she’d get him to love her, because no way did she want him to go.
Chapter Fifteen
Joe’s head was ready to explode by the time they returned to Visitation. Austin talked nonstop, and while they were in the security supply store, he’d grown three extra arms—or at least it seemed that way. Joe had to stay right on top of him to keep him from damaging some pretty expensive equipment. Finally, Joe bought him an inexpensive pair of field glasses to keep him busy. Austin spent the rest of the time staring at everyone in very close perspective.
On the way out of town and on his way back in, Joe subconsciously watched for Jamie Creed, until he realized what he was doing, then he scowled at himself. Hell, he didn’t believe for a second that Jamie just seemed to know when to show up. That sort of mystic crap was Luna’s thing, not his. All of Joe’s beliefs were grounded in reality and experience.
He was still pondering Jamie—and his natural dislike for the man—when his cell phone rang. Austin gave up his perusal of the passing landscape through his field glasses long enough to try to take Joe’s phone on the seat between them. Joe got to it first.
“This is Joe.”
“Joe? Hi. It’s me, Willow.”
Alarm slammed into him. “What wrong?”
“Nothing!” She hesitated, then said, “I … sort of need a favor.”
They had just entered the town proper, so Joe pulled over to the side of the road, then had to grab Austin by the collar of his shirt when he released his seat belt and started to open his door. “What is it, hon?”
She cleared her throat, again hesitated.
“Willow?”
“Can you stop at the drugstore for me?”
More alarm. “You’re that sick? Maybe you need to see the doctor.”
“No, I just … need something.”
Relief rolled through Joe. “Something for your stomach?”
“It’s, well, not my stomach.”
“Okay.” She had him at a loss. He’d never been any good at twenty questions. “Then what do you need, Willow? Just tell me.”
She rushed out an explanation. “I was going to ask Luna to call, but she got in the shower after I lay down, and I was afraid if I didn’t call now, you’d already be through town. I didn’t want anyone to have to make a trip back there. I hate to ask, I really do, but …”
Hoping to soothe her, Joe said, “Whatever it is, I’ll get it. Just tell me.”
“Tampons.”
Joe stalled. Tampons. But she was only … well, fourteen. He had no idea when young ladies needed such things. He said, “Uh …”
“I know,” she all but wailed. “I’m sorry. But there aren’t any here, and you’re already there.”
“Yeah, of course.” He glanced at Austin. “No problem at all, hon.” He swallowed. “Any particular kind?”
She gave him a brand name, then quickly hung up.
Joe took a fortifying breath. He’d known plenty of women, but they took care of those things without any help from him. Never in his life had he bought feminine products. Alyx had tried sending him to the store for some once, but he’d refused and had instead driven a girl he dated, and she’d gone into the drugstore while Joe waited in the car. Course, he’d been in his early twenties then, not in his late thirties. Hell, he could kick ass on felons, play bodyguard and bounty hunter, so surely he could buy a stupid box of tampons.
He glanced at Austin and found the boy studying him through the field glasses. Joe opened his truck door. “C’mon. We’ll order the pizza first, then go to the drug store for your sister.” Poor Willow. No wonder she’d looked miserable. He hadn’t met a woman yet who wasn’t a little grumpy and uncomfortable during that time, at least for the first day or so. It figured Austin would be at his most intolerable, just to make her feel worse.
It was as they were leaving the pizza place that Austin, still with the stupid field glasses up, said in a mean voice, “There’s Mr. Owen.”
Joe pulled Austin to a halt. “Where?”
Austin pointed across the street to a tall, slender man dressed in a full suit despite the smothering heat. Joe made note of two things—Quincy’s blond hair, and his dress shoes.
He was already getting into an expensive black Mercedes, so Joe just watched, his gaze icy, his gut tight with cynicism, his lip curling in automatic, intuitive dislike. As Quincy checked traffic to pull out, his attention slid over Joe, then jerked back. His expression went blank, then startled. After several seconds, his dark gaze drifted to Austin, narrowed, then shot back to Joe. He nodded once, curt and brief, then drove away.
Austin’s hand slipped into Joe’s. “I don’t like him.”
Joe didn’t like him either, but rather than say so, he asked, “How come?” He started Austin toward the drug store.
“He always looks at me like that. He’s not a nice man.”
“Like what?”
Austin shrugged, kicked a pebble with his toe. “Like I’m dirty or something.”
Damn the man. Joe squeezed Austin’s shoulder and growled, “Remember what I told you?”
“ ’Bout puttin’ my head up?”
“Your chin, yeah. He’s not worth your notice, Austin, if he can’t be nice.”
“ ’Kay.” Austin stuck his chin so high in the air, he couldn’t use his field glasses.
Joe’s thoughts churned, shifting, sorting and piecing together ugly suspicions. A bell chimed as they entered the drug store, and a portly man with impossibly thick gray hair looked over his wire-rimmed glasses from his position behind an old-fashioned counter. “Austin Calder. I haven’t seen you in ages.” The pharmacist took off his glasses and set them aside. “How are you, son? And your sister?”
“Willow is sick.”
The pharmacist glanced at Joe. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anything serious?”
To Joe’s consternation, heat rushed up his neck. “Uh, no. She’s okay. Just a little under the weather.”
“Can I help you find anything?”
No. If he was going to buy the damn things, he didn’t want or need help. “We’ll browse, thanks.” Belatedly, Joe reached across the counter to offer his hand. “I’m Joe Winston. I’m here with Austin’s cousin, Luna Clark.”
Through a hardy handshake, the older man said, “Marshall Peterson.” And then in a smiling whisper, “He’s eyeing the candy already. Used to come in once a week before his mother passed away. Chloe always bought him the red shoestring licorice, but I haven’t seen him much lately.”
Joe had to admit to some surprise at Marshall’s friendly disposition. From everything he’d heard, he’d fully expected to face strong dislike from most of the townsfolk. “Did Willow have a favorite, too?”
“Cordial cherries. As I recall, she’d eat one and save the rest for later. Said they were special, and she wanted to appreciate them.”
Joe grinned. “That sounds like Willow. We’ll take two dollars’ worth of the licorice and a box of the chocolate-covered cherries.”
Marshall nodded in approval. “Good man.”
While that was being bagged up, Joe made his way to the female aisle. They passed several people who said hi to Austin with no animosity whatsoever. Austin took it all in stride, so Joe knew it wasn’t uncommon. He found himself going through one good-natured introduction after another before he was finally left in peace to make his purchase.
In front of the tampons.
He’d had no idea of the variety he’d face. He frowned, put on his glasses to read a few labels, then gave up and just grabbed a box. He had planned to pick up more condoms, too, but now that he’d met so many people, it didn’t seem like a good idea. He should have bought them someplace nearer the security store—away from prying eyes.
He thought about making love to Luna without a condom, feeling her and only her, the soft, wet clasp of her body, and a rush of heat assailed him. Damn. Because he’d never once considered settling down with any particular woman, he’d neve
r considered making love without protection. He’d sure as hell never considered himself fathering a baby.
But he looked down at Austin with his fair hair forever disheveled, his small hands holding the field glasses while he peeked between shelves, watching customers. Joe noted the way he planted his narrow feet apart, how his knees looked too big for his skinny legs.
Joe smiled—and he wished Austin were his.
Once he started thinking of kids and babies and sex without condoms, his thoughts progressed at an alarming rate. It wouldn’t be right to spring a new baby on Austin and Willow. Hell, it wouldn’t be right for Luna either. Taking over as guardian was a huge upheaval in her life. But things should be fairly set in a few years. And he wouldn’t be forty for four more years. Surely, that’d give them enough time to …
Joe drew up short on that lofty thought. Good God, he was planning additions to the family when he wasn’t yet an official family member. First, he had to tie Luna to him. But given the way she’d reacted during Ms. Grady’s visit when he mentioned marriage, it wouldn’t be easy. She’d damn near swallowed her tongue. Not a promising reaction at all.
Every day, things seemed more settled. The kids were doing great, and other than the vandalism, Joe had seen no signs of any serious threats. Before Luna could decide he wasn’t needed after all, she’d get the brunt of his attention. She’d be left with no doubts to what he wanted from her.
He’d just started toward the checkout when Dinah Belle stepped in front of him, blocking his path and insinuating herself into his personal space. With thoughts of Luna still crowding his brain, Joe almost plowed over her.
Today her blond hair was loose to her shoulders, her makeup overdone, her blouse so low she displayed an impressive amount of cleavage. Joe hadn’t seen her since the day she’d been fired, and again, he expected some animosity.
Instead, Dinah greeted him with the affectionate familiarity of a long-lost lover. “Joe.”
Before he could stop her, she threw herself against him and locked her arms around his neck. Her large breasts flattened on his chest, a rounded belly pressed into his abdomen, plump thighs shifted against his.
With great alacrity, Joe freed himself, but already other shoppers were giving them disapproving looks. To be safe, Joe held her back with one hand wrapped around her upper arm. He would have used both hands if he hadn’t held the tampons.
“Dinah,” he said without much inflection or exuberance. He was already missing Luna, dumb as that seemed, and he was anxious to get back to her. The last thing he wanted was a full-body rubdown from Dinah.
She tipped her head in coy regard, staring at him through heavy eyes. “I was afraid you’d be gone by now.”
“Now, why would I leave?” Joe was beyond grateful that she’d accosted him at the back of the store, rather than up front where any number of shoppers might have witnessed the spectacle.
She glanced down at Austin—who promptly curled his upper lip and thrust his chin into the air in snooty disdain, just as Joe had instructed. “I assumed a man like you”—she looked him up and down as she drawled those words—“would tire quickly of the domestic routine.”
“Actually, I’m enjoying myself.” Joe glanced down at Austin, who raised the field glasses to Dinah’s face. With an exaggerated wince, the little imp pretended to gag. Joe almost laughed. He shared those sentiments, but he didn’t want Austin to be so rude. “Behave,” he said in an aside to Austin, and took the glasses from him.
Unfortunately, that meant he had to let go of Dinah, and she immediately pressed close again.
“It’s so kind of you to want to help them.” She splayed a hand over her chest, attempting to draw Joe’s gaze there. “It’s just that I hate to see you get caught up in such a mess.”
“What mess?” Joe wondered how much Dinah knew about their situation.
In deference to Austin, she just barely lowered her voice. “I’ve heard of the trouble. Everyone has. It’s obvious that they’ve alienated themselves from the town by their behavior. Why, they’ve caused so much trouble that sooner or later they’ll be gone, either put in foster homes or in juvenile. And then you’ll be—”
“They’re not going anywhere.”
His tone was ferocious enough that Dinah backed up a pace. “Well.” She twittered a nervous laugh. “It’s not up to me, of course.”
“No, it’s not.” Joe started to walk around her when a thought occurred to him. Taking her by surprise, he said, “Who hired you as their housekeeper, Dinah?”
Her face went blank, then bloomed with color. “Patricia, of course.”
Joe looked into her deceitful eyes, knew she was lying, and said to Austin, “Go on up front and wait for me. The pharmacist has some licorice for you.”
“All right!” Austin took off at a run, darting around customers and aisles alike.
Joe moved closer to Dinah, closer and closer until she held her breath and her eyes widened and a frantic pulse fluttered in her white throat. She was a vision of shock, wariness and extreme interest.
Joe counted on the interest—he needed it to get what he wanted.
Standing close, Joe gently fingered a lock of hair lying over her shoulder, close to her left breast. Voice low, he asked, “What were you doing, working for Patricia?”
Her lips moved twice before words emerged. “What do you mean?”
Breathless. Good. “Just as you said you can’t picture a man like me going the domestic route, it doesn’t quite fit a woman like you, either.” Joe looked at her trembling mouth and allowed a small smile. “You, Dinah Belle, are much too much woman to be keeping house.”
Her eyes turned soft, smoky and adoring. “I … I needed the job.”
Stammering. Even better. Luna never stammered around him. It was nice to see he hadn’t entirely lost his touch. “Surely Patricia could see you weren’t a frumpy housekeeper. She wasn’t blind.”
“I had a good recommendation.”
“Yeah? Now what fool would recommend you for such a demeaning job?” Joe dragged the back of his hand lower until his knuckles brushed the plumped-up flesh of her breast.
Heat washed over her face and her eyes closed. “Quincy Owen.”
“Ah.” Joe dropped his hand and stepped back from her. The sensual undertones disappeared from his voice. “You two know each other well, do you?”
Blinking fast, Dinah brought herself back to reality. Confusion over what had just happened kept her expression vague. “No. That is, we’re acquaintances.” And almost as an afterthought, she added, “Quincy is happily married.”
“With a stepson.”
“Yes.” Knowing she’d been used, Dinah huffed. “He’s a good man.”
“Yeah, right. And he sent you to Patricia out of the goodness of his heart, huh?”
A frown marred her brow. “He wanted to be helpful, yes. He knew she had her hands full with those two. They’d been running wild and with no father around to keep them in line—”
Joe turned his back on her and made his way to the checkout. Dinah stayed on his heels until Joe had paid for the tampons and candy, and stepped outside. Ignoring her, Joe looked up at the sky and saw that dark clouds had moved in. The air smelled thick with an impending storm that suited his current mood just fine.
Hoping to get home before the downpour hit, he started toward his truck but he’d only taken two steps when he saw a man in dark glasses and a hat glance toward him, duck his head and hurry away. Beneath the hat and above the collar of the man’s shirt, Joe could just detect the hair.
Blond.
Fury, suspicion gathered.
Not Quincy. No, this man was too tall, too broad shouldered, too solid. Joe watched as he disappeared around the corner of the lot at a fast clip.
By instinct alone, Joe started to go after him. He would have him this time, and he’d beat him to a pulp. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, making his breath come fast, his vision narrow with purpose. He started forward—and Aus
tin tugged on his hand, asking, “Can I have some of the licorice now?”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Austin stared up at Joe, hopeful, innocent, too young to be left alone on the sidewalk while he chased after a damned nut case. Joe felt impotent, and that pissed him off.
Dinah chose that inauspicious moment to demand Joe’s attention. “What are you going to do?”
Frustration riding him hard, Joe cut her with his gaze. “About what, damn it?”
Her mouth fell open at his acerbic tone. “About what I told you,” she hissed, aware of passersby on the sidewalk around them. “About Quincy.”
Attention divided, Joe looked back at the street just in time to see the brown sedan that had followed them into town. It pulled out of a parking lot close to where Joe had left his truck, then drove away. Had Bruno Caldwell sent a henchman? Bruno was such a small-time Neanderthal creep, Joe doubted he could afford that. No, Bruno tended to do his own dirty work. Who was the blond man?
Austin said, a little worried now, “Joe?”
Absently, torn between responsibilities, Joe ordered, “Eat your licorice, Austin.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Austin nearly tore the bag open in his haste to get the candy.
“Joe?” Dinah’s tone was far more whiny than Austin’s had been.
Joe turned to her, his fury barely contained. “Tell Quincy I’ve had enough, Dinah.”
Her eyes widened.
Joe took Austin’s hand to hurry him across the street. “Tell him I’m coming to see him.”
She looked paralyzed by the mere thought. She called his name twice, but Joe had just noticed a folded slip of paper on his windshield and didn’t spare Dinah the time.
When she realized he wouldn’t reply, she yelled, “Damn you, Joe Winston!” and then, with several spectators looking on, she got into her car and squealed away.
Was she going to Quincy? Joe would find out. Somehow, he just knew the two of them were well acquainted.
Careful to touch no more than one corner, Joe pulled the small square of paper from beneath his wiper and shook it open. He didn’t need his glasses to read the bold, masculine scrawl: Your firebug drives a hatchback. Just thought you’d want to know.
