Nobody But You

by Julie Kenner

  “At the risk of inflating her ego,” David said, his hands leaving her shoulders as he walked back to the couch, “I’m going to agree with Millie on that one.”

  Jacey groaned, then took Finn’s place behind David’s desk. She buried her face in her hands, idly wondering whether, if she kicked her heels together, all of this would go away. She tried it, then peeked through her fingers. Nope. Nothing had changed.

  She took a deep breath to summon courage, then looked up.

  “How you doing, kid?” David asked.

  She grimaced. “Still wondering what I did to deserve this.”

  “Want to hear my theory?”

  She nodded.

  Beside her, Finn chuckled. “Considering the books he writes, this should be interesting.”

  “Who’s for tea?” Millie asked.

  Jacey held up a hand, happy to latch onto something as normal as tea while her world was tilting on its axis.

  “I think they saw you,” David said, ignoring Earl Grey and jumping straight into his theory.

  She blinked. “Come again?”

  “In San Diego. They saw you and Al together.”

  “He’s got to be right,” Finn said, nodding.

  “And they figure you’re in cahoots with Al,” Millie said, carrying in a tray laden with teacups, a cream pitcher, and a sugar bowl.

  Finn took the tray, while David moved into the kitchen and turned the fire off under the kettle.

  “Cahoots,” Jacey repeated, feeling a little sick to her stomach that her wild weekend had landed her in this much trouble. So much for safe sex.

  “You know,” Millie said. “In on it.”

  “I know what it means,” Jacey said. “I just can’t believe that they’d really think I’ve got a cut of the diamonds.”

  “Either that or they think you know where Al ran off to.” David reappeared, carrying a tea kettle. He put it down on the coffee table, using some ripped-out magazine pages as a coaster.

  Jacey frowned, then glanced around the apartment, realizing for the first time that it seemed cleaner than it had when she was there before.

  “Tea?” Millie asked, reaching for the kettle.

  “Yes, please,” Jacey said. She shifted, aiming her words at all three of them. “But I don’t know where Al is.”

  David and Finn glanced at each other. “So maybe that’s what we need to figure out.” David’s gaze met hers. “If we find Al, we find the diamonds. And if we find the diamonds, we can get these guys off your back.”

  Jacey licked her lips. “We? What about the police?”

  “The police have other things to do. Right now, I’m wide open.”

  She nibbled on her lip. “I don’t know if I can afford to pay for this. I mean—”

  David shook his head. “Gratis,” he said. “I want to help you.” He drew in a deep breath. “And the fact is, you’d be helping me, too.”

  Jacey frowned. “I’d be helping you?”

  David raked his hand through his hair, then explained about the book. “It seemed like too good an opportunity to turn down,” he said, not wanting to get into the money thing with Millie in the room. “But to do it right, I need your help. What do you say?”

  She didn’t answer right away and David was almost afraid she was going to say no. Then she nodded and he did a mental high five.

  “So where do we start?” Jacey asked.

  “At the beginning, of course,” Millie answered, dropping two cubes of sugar into a cup, then filling it with tea before passing it to Jacey. “Two lumps, right?”

  Jacey nodded and David marveled at his aunt’s social etiquette in the face of the gathering storm clouds.

  He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. If he got sidetracked every time they were faced with one of Millie’s eccentricities, they’d be there until Christmas. “We start with Al,” he said. He got up and headed for the computer. “What do we know about him and what can we find out?”

  “Right,” Finn said. “He must have had help. A fence to sell the diamonds, maybe. Someone who arranged a fake passport.”

  “Someone to provide the body,” Jacey said, her voice barely a whisper.

  David turned to her, noticing immediately how pale she’d become. All the blood had drained from her face and her freckles seemed to be floating. “Come on,” he said, gathering her up and leading her to the couch. “You need to lie down.”

  She followed willingly and he squeezed in beside her, holding her hand. She clung to him and he closed his other hand over their intertwined ones, silently letting her know that he’d be right there for as long as she needed him.

  “She’s right,” Finn said. “They found a body.” He shrugged. “Or, not a body, but…” He trailed off with a pointed glance toward Jacey.

  “Pieces,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it. It’s just a little overwhelming.”

  “But no teeth,” Millie said, and everyone turned to look at her. “Didn’t the article mention that?”

  Finn nodded. “Even with the explosion, there should have been something. Maybe not enough to match a dental record, but still—”

  “Pieces,” Jacey said again. “There should have been tooth pieces.” She grimaced. “This is getting really morbid.” She shivered, then pulled down the quilt that was draped across the back of David’s couch, curling up underneath it. She tugged her hand away in the process and for a moment David felt a little lost. If she could comfort herself so easily with his quilt, then what the hell did she need him for?

  He gave himself a mental kick in the balls, which apparently had stepped in and taken over for his brain. She didn’t need him. Not for the long term. And that was fine with him.

  “Child, you’re exhausted.”

  David looked up to find Millie hovering over Jacey, who took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s been a long day.”

  David felt like a heel for not realizing how tired she was. “Okay, everybody out. We can play detective again tomorrow. Tonight, Jacey needs some sleep.”

  “I’m not sleepy,” Jacey said. “Just wiped.”

  “Whatever,” David said. “You need to relax and get your mind off this.”

  “Mel,” Millie said, pulling her Lethal Weapon tape back out of her briefcase. “You can relax with Mel.” She nodded, as if she’d just doled out wisdom worthy of Confucius and plunked the tape down on the table next to Jacey’s tea.

  Jacey smiled, as if Millie was the most normal old lady on the planet and damned if David didn’t want to kiss her for that. “Thanks, Millie.”

  Millie patted her hand and headed for the door, accepting David’s kiss on her cheek before she stepped outside. Finn followed, ready to help her navigate the stairs, but David pulled him aside at the door. “Al’s old roomie seemed more than a little odd,” David said. “Will you do me a favor and give Cartwright a call. I’d like to see if anything interesting pops up on Brad Stemple.”

  “For you? Not a chance. For her? No problem.”

  David rolled his eyes. “Very nice. Remind me to trade you in for a new best friend.”

  Finn chuckled. “I’ll be sure and bring it up.” He glanced over David’s shoulder into the apartment. “In the meantime, maybe you should go back in there and see what you can do to take the lady’s mind off her troubles.”

  David grimaced, but didn’t answer. Because, truth be told, he’d been thinking that exact same thing.

  Jacey kept the quilt tucked firmly around her, afraid that if she let go, she’d also let go of her self-control. It had been a strange and unusual couple of days and at the moment she didn’t really trust herself. Not that she ever had the best judgment where men were concerned, but right then she definitely wasn’t operating on all cylinders.

  Behind her, the door creaked open and she twisted around to see David come back in.

  “Lucy’s here,” he said. “Finn’s going to pull her into the garage and lock her up for the night.” He pointed to a key hanging f
rom a nail near the door. “That’s the garage key if you need to get anything out of her later.”

  Jacey smiled. Silly, but she felt better just knowing Lucy was nearby.

  “Thanks.” She considered going down right then, but ruled it out. David’s apartment had become a pseudo-sanctuary and she intended to stay put for as long as she could.

  David stood there, his hands shoved in his pockets. She licked her lips, not certain what to think about the way his gaze covered her, but aware enough to know that it made her shiver.

  After a few seconds, he shook his head, as if clearing spiderwebs. “Why don’t I move your bag to the bedroom and get you some fresh sheets?”

  “I told you,” she said. “The couch is fine.”

  “Sweetheart, my Knight in Shining Armor card comes with strict rules and regulations. You don’t want me to lose my charter membership, do you?”

  She fought a grin. “Well, I would hate for something like that to be on my conscience.” She shifted on the couch, turning to see him better. “So what other rules are there? Am I going to get any more benefits? Or just a double bed instead of a couch?”

  His eyes widened. “Double bed? Woman, you wound me. I wouldn’t deign to sleep in anything smaller than a king.”

  “Really?” She hugged herself, tingling slightly at the thought of rolling over and over with David on a big, firm, king-size mattress. Mentally she shook her head, forcing herself back to the reality where she was sane and not doing stupid things in the name of lust. “Well,” she said, conjuring a perky smile, “guess I’ve fallen into the lap of luxury.”

  “I’d say so.” He met her eyes, his dark with something she dared not analyze. “Hell, my bed’s so big we could both sleep in it and practically be in different counties.”

  Jacey swallowed. Maybe he was right, but she wasn’t about to tempt fate. If they both went into that room, sometime during the night one of them would cross the county line. And although the thought of finding sweet forgetfulness in his arms was tempting, her head kept reminding her that she didn’t believe in one-night stands.

  “I’ll take the bed,” she finally said. “But let’s not test your theory, okay? You get the couch.”

  Disappointment flashed in his eyes so quickly she wasn’t entirely sure she saw it. Then he grinned, revealing that adorable dimple. “Your wish and all that jazz.”

  “From the Knight Etiquette Handbook?” she asked. “I think you need a little practice.” She sat up, tossing the quilt aside and twisting around so her feet were on the floor. She was still in Tasha’s suit—still wearing the jacket, even—but she couldn’t quite bring herself to change clothes. Somehow, the idea of going into David’s bathroom and stripping down to her undies, then pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt seemed too intimate, too dangerous. Best to stay for a while as she was and pretend to be cool and professional. She could have the illusion even if she didn’t have the reality.

  “It’s not that late, but you’ve had a long day.” He nodded toward the room. “If you’re ready to crash, don’t feel like you have to stay up and be polite.”

  “I’m not being polite,” she said, then clapped her hand over her mouth when she realized how that sounded. “I mean—”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry.”

  “Open mouth, insert foot,” she said.

  “How about inserting dessert instead?” He headed for the kitchen. “You hungry?”

  She nodded, realizing with a start that she hadn’t had anything except Millie’s tea since lunch with Tasha. “Starved.”

  He paused long enough to look back at her. “Would you rather have real food?” The corner of his mouth curled up, a slow, languid movement. “I could order Chinese.”

  She matched his grin, feeling surprisingly comfortable despite the unspoken offer. “Just dessert,” she said, her voice firm. “Besides, you owe me ice cream.”

  “That I do.” He headed the rest of the way into the kitchen.

  She followed, then leaned up against the counter, as he pulled a skillet from one of the lower cabinets, giving her a nice view of his rear. Yup. Just as nice as she’d noticed the other day. She drew in a breath, wondering if she wouldn’t have been smarter to wait on the couch.

  “You’re lucky,” he added. “I went shopping. I’ve got ice cream and all sorts of good stuff.”

  “Get bit by the domestic bug?” she asked, thinking about the dent she’d noticed in the mess he called his living room.

  He dropped a stick of butter onto the skillet, the instant sizzle making her jump and the decadent smell of butter immediately assaulting her senses. “Nothing that drastic. Just stocking up on supplies.” As if to illustrate, he opened his cabinets and started pulling brown sugar and cinnamon from their depths.

  He turned to face her and she recognized the expression on his face—the same excited look she’d seen in the mirror when she was working on a collage or a mural.

  “Take a look in that cabinet, would you?” he asked. “I’m looking for banana liqueur.”

  She complied, pleased to be helping, even if only a little. Her culinary skills sucked, although she could whip together a pretty good tuna salad—assuming the kitchen had tuna and the rest of the ingredients. In her kitchen, that was a big assumption.

  David, on the other hand, moved like a natural in the kitchen. And, frankly, those movements were pretty darn erotic.

  She found the bottle and passed it to him. “What are we having?”

  “A surprise,” he said. “Ever been to New Orleans?”

  “No.” She’d always wanted to go—she’d heard the galleries were amazing—but had never managed to pull it together.

  “A New Orleans favorite,” he said. “I think you’ll like it.”

  “I’m sure I will,” she said, not doubting it for a minute. Heck, the butter alone smelled delicious and he hadn’t done anything more than turn on the heat.

  Bottle in hand, David turned back to the stove, then started mixing the sugar and cinnamon. Despite the incongruity of his well-muscled arms, he looked perfectly at home with a metal bowl and a whisk. She just watched him for a minute, taking in his fluid movements, imagining how his confidence in the kitchen would translate in the bedroom. Her pulse beat in her throat and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, apparently parched from the heat spreading through her body to pool between her thighs.

  David poured the sugar mix into the skillet, stirring the whole concoction until it started bubbling. The syrupy sweet scent enticed her and she edged closer, peering over his shoulder and breathing deep. The smell evoked memories—county fairs with candy vendors hawking their wares while her mother sold fifteen-minute portraits to tourists.

  “Want to stir?” he asked.

  She jumped, realizing he’d stopped and was holding the spoon at the side of the pan, ready for her to take it.

  “Oh, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t know—”

  “You can’t ruin it. Don’t worry.”

  Before she could protest, he moved so that now she was in front of the stove, with David standing behind her—a solid male wall. She clutched the wooden spoon and swished it around on the pan, sure she was going to turn whatever he was making into inedible goo.

  His breath teased the hair near her ear, his low chuckle trilling up her spine. “Not like that,” he said. He reached around her, moving closer so that her back was pressed against his hard chest and her rear was firmly tucked against him. She was flattered but not surprised when she felt his erection push against her. After all, her body had reacted to nothing more erotic than his proximity and now that he was touching her, she was having to call on every ounce of willpower to keep from begging him to make love to her.

  It would be so easy, too. All she needed was to wiggle her butt. Just tease him a little so that he lost control and she could get swept away in the moment.

  But no. She couldn’t go there. Making love to David wasn’t part of her plan, even if it was getting harder and
harder to remember why. So instead, she held her breath, using all her concentration to focus on the stove. His hand closed over hers, gentle yet insistent. A man’s hands, whose fingers could stroke and play her until she couldn’t do anything but beg.

  Oh Lord. She exhaled, then inhaled again. Clearly, she needed to get oxygen to her brain.

  “Don’t try so hard,” he said, guiding her hand in firm, yet fluid motions. “Pretend you’re painting a sunset.”

  She nodded, wanting to please him, to show him that she could do this. With her eyes closed, she imagined she was holding a paintbrush, the bristles drenched in a golden orange as she feathered the sky with hints of color.

  “That’s it,” he said. His arm tightened around her waist and she leaned against him. Heat spread through her, radiating from the points where their bodies touched. She sighed, losing herself to everything but the moment as his heat consumed her. “You’re doing great.”

  She smiled, idly wondering if they could just stay that way all night, touching and stirring. But all too soon, he backed away and her body mourned the loss of his heat. “You’re not leaving me to do this alone, are you?”

  “I have faith,” he said. He cocked his head toward the opposite counter. “And if we’re going to eat this dessert, I need to cut up a few bananas. Unless you’d rather cut while I stir.”

  “No,” she said, the word escaping even before the sound of his last word faded. Silly, maybe, but handling phallic-shaped fruit probably wasn’t in her best interest at the moment. Not if she intended to sleep alone in David’s bed. And that was still her intention, no matter how hard her body was arguing otherwise.

  His grin zipped all the way to her toes and Jacey felt her cheeks warm, sure that he had completely clued in to her reasoning. “No problem,” he said, moving across the kitchen.

  Strong and confident, he wielded the knife as he peeled then quartered the bananas, the muscles in his upper arm tightening under the thin material of his T-shirt. He set them aside, then moved to the freezer and pulled out a gallon of vanilla ice cream. He scooped a hardy portion into two deep cereal bowls before moving back beside her. “You want the honors, or shall I?”