Nobody But You

by Julie Kenner

  He just stared at her, his eyes twinkling.

  She shifted, uncomfortable under his steady gaze. “What?”

  He stroked the side of her face, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “You’re not quite the woman I thought when you walked into my office.”

  She swallowed, undone by the intensity reflected in his eyes. “So you didn’t like me then?”

  He stepped closer, once again closing the distance between them, once again hard against her. “I wouldn’t say that. I just thought you had a smart mouth.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “I do have a smart mouth.”

  David brushed his lips over hers. “Yes, but now I get to claim that mouth. And that makes all the difference.”

  As if to prove his point, he closed his mouth over hers again and Jacey melted against him, idly wondering if she’d ever spent an entire night having sex. If not, now was as good a time to start as any.

  Chapter 12

  I didn’t know why Mallory wanted to keep me from searching for Sarah, but I did know that she was doing a damn good job.

  “Come back to bed, lover,” she said, peeling back the sheet to reveal a creamy smooth leg that seemed to go on forever.

  We’d ended up together in my apartment and we’d already burned up the sheets a time or two. My body wanted to crawl right back in there with her. The functioning part of my brain knew I needed to get to work.

  “Can’t do it, babe.” I got out of bed and pulled on my pants. Then I grabbed a Chesterfield and lit it, taking a deep drag. What I needed was a shot of whiskey, but this would have to do.

  She might have succeeded in distracting me for a while, but no longer. I was going to focus. I was going to gather my energy and go hit the streets. I needed to find out what happened to Sarah. And I couldn’t do that while I was in Mallory’s arms, no matter how very nice those arms might be.

  David concentrated on his book, trying to focus on the words and not the woman in his bed. His plan was foiled when she stirred, her lips parted in sleep. David’s hands paused over the Olivetti’s keys, as he looked at her, this woman who’d appeared on his doorstep and moved into his life.

  She rolled over, taking the sheet with her, her calf and thigh no longer covered. His fingers itched to touch her, to stroke her. To bring her to the absolute heights of passion and then back down again into his arms. Never before had he been with a woman who affected him like Jacey. He wanted to make love with her, sure, but he also wanted to take care of her. To protect her and keep her close.

  Quietly, so as not to wake her, he pushed away from the card table he’d dragged into the bedroom. What she’d said last night was true—it was all about priorities. And while he needed to write Al’s story to make money, he had to write Monroe and Mallory’s story. Like Jacey, those characters had taken hold of him and wouldn’t let go. Maybe he couldn’t devote all his time, but he’d squeeze in a scene here or there. Eventually, he’d finish their story. Hell, he owed them that much.

  Right now, though, his thoughts were on Jacey. Barefoot, he walked to her, careful not to slide on any of the papers still strewn about his floor. He stood there for a minute, simply watching her. Then he reached down and pulled the quilt up over her bare leg, tucking it around her arms to ward off the morning chill.

  A little sigh escaped her lips and she twisted, her hair sticking out a million different directions on the pillow. Basically, she was a mess, yet he thought she looked absolutely adorable.

  He had no idea how long he stood there staring, but there he was when she finally opened her eyes. At first her face was blank and then, as she awoke, the sweetest grin touched her lips.

  “Good morning,” she whispered.

  “Good morning to you, too,” he said. “Fifteen.”

  She pushed herself up on her elbows, the sheet against her chest. “Fifteen?”

  “Freckles. There are fifteen freckles on your nose.”

  With one hand, she rubbed her nose, as if she could count them herself. “Too few or too many?”

  “Just perfect,” he said. He turned away and headed for the door. “Breakfast?”

  “Coffee,” she said. “After that, I’ll take stock again.”

  “You got it.” He headed into the kitchen and pulled open the junk drawer, prepared to rummage in the pile for the little plastic thing to scoop out the coffee. No pile. For that matter, no junk.

  Odd.

  Where he used to have random bits of paper, coupons, nuts, bolts, coffee scoops, paper clips, rubber bands, fingernail clippers, and everything else that didn’t have someplace better to live, he now had a plastic divided tray. Nothing random about that. And the junk had been winnowed down and organized. Rubber bands in one section, nuts and bolts and screws in another, coupons neatly clipped together at the side.

  But no coffee scoop.

  “I, uh, couldn’t sleep.” Jacey’s voice.

  He turned to find her standing in the doorway in just his T-shirt, looking a little sheepish.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I was looking for the silverware and I ran across this drawer and, well…” She trailed off with a shrug.

  “Oh.” He frowned. The last time a woman had been ballsy enough to strut around his apartment making it her own, he’d clipped off the relationship right then, right there, and he waited for the urge to tell Jacey to take a hike to hit him.

  But it didn’t. Just the opposite, in fact. The opposite being that he felt bad that he hadn’t finished straightening up the place before she’d temporarily moved in.

  “David?” Her arms slipped around his waist and he pressed his hands over hers. “Do you mind?”

  He shook his head. “No, babe. Not at all.” He spoke the words without thinking, but they were absolutely true. Jacey was turning his world upside down and, he had to admit, the ride was sweeter than anything he’d ever found at Disneyland. “I do have one question, though. What did you do with the coffee scoop?”

  “By the machine,” she said. “Just where it should be.”

  And so it was. David finished making coffee while she took a shower. She was just coming back into the room, snuggled up inside his terry cloth robe, when someone knocked on the door.

  “I’ll get it,” she said, heading for the door.

  David gripped the edge of the counter, the scent of brewing coffee surrounding him. There was something a little too homey about the scene—him puttering in the kitchen, her opening the house to guests. Scary. And what was really scary was how comfortable the morning felt with her around.

  “I hope that’s not decaf,” Finn said, as Jacey moved aside to let him follow Millie into the room.

  “Not a chance,” David said. “Decaf’s for sissies.”

  “Not real men, like us,” Finn said, throwing his arms around both Millie and Jacey’s shoulders and squeezing tight. “Isn’t that right, darling ladies?”

  Jacey laughed. “You’re in an awfully good mood this morning.”

  “Hard work will do that to a man,” Finn said.

  Millie rolled her eyes. “Pshaw. He made breakfast. I did all the work.”

  David came in from the kitchen, carrying a mug of coffee for Jacey, and they shared a smile. “What work, Millie?” he asked.

  “Finding out about your Mr. Stemple, of course.”

  “It’s true,” Finn said. “I made eggs and toast and Millie surfed the Net. The woman is hell on wheels with a mouse.”

  “But not with a frying pan,” David said.

  “Exactly,” Finn agreed.

  David stifled a grin. Millie had been known to throw anything she had in the kitchen into her scrambled eggs. The result was either wonderful—like when she’d had smoked salmon and gouda cheese left over from a party—or hideous. David could still taste the apple-tuna eggs she’d made about a year ago.

  Millie pulled her cardigan tight. “No respect,” she said to Jacey, who looked bemused by the whole exchange.

  Finn leaned over and kissed Millie
’s cheek. “You know we love you.”

  The older woman snorted. “Just get me some coffee,” she said. She turned back to Jacey. “Men.”

  David passed the mug to Jacey, then sat beside her on the sofa while Millie took the desk chair. Finn clattered around in the kitchen. “You cleaned your junk drawer,” he said.

  “It was time,” David said. “So tell us about Stemple.”

  “He’s a mortician,” Millie said, nodding sagely.

  “So he’d have access to bodies,” Jacey said. “Gross.”

  “No kidding,” David said. “We know anything else about Stemple?”

  “I gave Mike a call. A lot of arrests,” Finn said. “No convictions.” He came back into the living room, carrying mugs for himself and for Millie. “He looks to be a small-time player with some big-time friends.”

  “Think he could’ve fenced a million in diamonds?” David asked.

  Finn didn’t even hesitate. “Mike said no. But I bet he’d know how to find someone who could.”

  “So we go talk to Stemple?” Jacey asked.

  Finn shook his head. “He bugged out.”

  Jacey frowned. “He’s gone?”

  “Yup,” Finn said. “I was getting into this private detective thing, so I called to talk to his landlord.” He took a sip of coffee. “Skipped out on the rent and didn’t leave a damn thing in his apartment.”

  “Well, great,” she said. “What now?”

  “I’m guessing he found a fence for Al in San Diego,” David said. “The meet was probably set up for the hotel. I’ll see if I can get Cartwright to ask his cop friends in San Diego for a list of known fences down there.”

  “And we can ask around at the hotel, too,” Jacey added. “See what else anyone remembers about Al.”

  “Exactly,” David said. “Who Al met other than you, what address he gave the hotel, anything at all.”

  “Follow his tracks,” Millie said.

  David took Jacey’s hand, delighted when she squeezed back. “So,” he said. “Why don’t we throw your bag in the car and head down to San Diego?” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll give Cartwright a call and then we can hit the road. Chances are we’ll get there in time to have lunch by the beach.”

  Jacey’s head was spinning. Dead bodies with teeth pulled out of them. Stolen diamonds. Fencing goods. Exploding buildings. Missing boyfriends. And the most amazing sex of her life.

  Not exactly an average week. All in all, Jacey thought she was handling it pretty well.

  But going down to San Diego? Right then? No way. “I’ve got a job,” she said. She glanced at her watch. “I’m supposed to be there in an hour and I haven’t even put Tasha’s suit back on.” She frowned, remembering the way they’d treated the poor suit last night. Hopefully it wasn’t too wrinkled. Not that she regretted the wrinkles…

  “Work?” David said. “You’re going in today?”

  “Of course I’m going in. That’s one of the defining characteristics of a job. They expect you to show up.”

  “You haven’t so far,” he said.

  She shot him a dirty look and he held his hands up as if in self-defense. “Why don’t we go down on Friday night?” she asked, trying to suggest a reasonable alternative.

  David got up, apparently annoyed that she wanted to be responsible. “I really think we ought to go now. We need to know what the hell’s going on.”

  “And I need a steady job,” she said. She flopped back against the cushions, wondering if he was even really listening to her or if he just wanted to jump right into his book.

  “You don’t even want the job…” he said, his voice laced with undisguised exasperation.

  “I do want this job and I’ve told you why,” she said. “And the truth is, we may never catch this guy and I can’t rearrange my life until we do. But if you’re worried about me, then you can drive me there and pick me up.”

  “Jacey—” David began, but Millie cut him off.

  “Shoo!” She stood up, waving him off the seat next to her. “We girls need to talk.” She urged him away, then took the space he vacated. “You two run along outside. Go repair something. Go build a fence. Go do manly man things.”

  Jacey stifled a grin as David and Finn exchanged glances. After a second Finn shrugged. “What do you say? Want to go hunt some bison?”

  David looked from Jacey to Millie. Finally, he shrugged. “What the hell. Let’s go.”

  David followed Finn out and Millie put her hand over Jacey’s the second the door closed. “Now, dear. Why don’t you tell me what’s really the problem?”

  Jacey blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re scared because you’re falling in love with my David.”

  Jacey opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again, accepting the unwelcome fact that Millie might just be speaking the truth. But that didn’t have anything to do with her job or with San Diego. “It’s a job, Millie. I need to go to work.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” Jacey repeated. “I don’t know. Because I like to eat?”

  The woman sat back. “Now that he’s got this book deal, you two can get married.”

  “I wouldn’t start ordering invitations yet, Millie,” Jacey said. “We’re hardly engaged.”

  Millie just patted Jacey’s hand. “Don’t you worry, dear. It will all work out.”

  Jacey frowned, wishing she had Millie’s confidence.

  “My David will take care of you,” Millie said. “He certainly takes care of me.”

  Jacey cocked her head, not entirely sure she was following. “What do you mean?”

  Millie leaned forward, as if gossiping over tea and crumpets. “Now don’t tell him I know—he seems to enjoy playing Robin Hood—but I found out that David’s been putting money in my bank account every month. A good thing, too. My husband more or less screwed me in the financial department.” She took a sip of coffee and smiled at Jacey over the rim.

  “Really?” Jacey frowned. From what David told her, he’d only agreed to do the book because he was in such financial trouble. And yet he’d been taking care of Millie. And apparently, he hadn’t told Millie what a toll his outlay of cash was having on his bank balance.

  Just one more layer on the man time was revealing as David Anderson. The man she’d thought was an overgrown teenager was turning out to be pretty darn responsible. Not to mention sweet and charming and downright sexy.

  But while she liked him more and more with each passing moment, what she thought of David didn’t matter. Not in the long run. Not when this was over and she was back to her life and her apartment, all alone with no yard and no family except a mother who kept in touch by sending various artifacts COD from around the world.

  She considered telling Millie the truth about David’s past finances, but kept her mouth shut. That was between David and his aunt. Instead, she focused on what she knew. “David’s drooling at the thought of moving into that Paris apartment as soon as he finishes researching this book. I don’t think marriage is at the forefront of his mind.” A sad fact, but unfortunately very true.

  “David’s always wanted to move to Paris,” Millie said.

  Jacey nodded. “I know. And if he’s always wanted it, don’t you think that someday he’ll do it?”

  “Absolutely,” Millie said. “Unless he has a reason to stay.”

  Jacey nibbled on her thumb, wishing she could be the reason, but knowing that wasn’t the case. It would be so easy to give in to passion. To convince herself that they’d formed some sort of bond, merging their lives when they merged their bodies. But she knew better. That kind of thinking was the exact reason she’d told herself not to sleep with him in the first place.

  The best laid plans and all that…

  And it would be so easy to give in and just skip down to San Diego. It wasn’t as if she wanted to go sit in front of a computer for eight hours a day. But more and more she was veering from her plan—giving in to the allure of David, sketching desp
ite her threat to enroll herself in Artists Anonymous. Heck, she’d even picked up the phone to call Gregory twice. She’d stopped herself before the second ring, but, dammit, she did not need to be scraping by painting murals for pennies.

  She was a grown-up now and she didn’t want anyone saying she’d grown up into her mother. She wanted to be responsible. Even Tasha had a nicely padded retirement account. Jacey had three hundred and forty-seven dollars and ten shares of Disney stock. Pitiful.

  So no. Going to San Diego would be a mistake. This thing with David would all be over soon and then where would she be? Thirty and jobless and without a love life.

  Not a pretty picture.

  Standing up, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Millie. The only one who’s going to take care of me is me.”

  “So much for Millie’s world-famous persuasion,” Finn said with a nod toward the garage.

  David turned around in time to see Jacey reaching for the handle to pull open the door. “Well, hell,” he said. That was an understatement. He wanted to go to San Diego to investigate Al. He also wanted to get Jacey away from Los Angeles, a city that had recently become hazardous to her health. But mostly he was looking forward to days and nights in a beachfront hotel with Jacey, room service, and a Jacuzzi tub.

  Considering she was heading for Lucy, that fantasy probably wouldn’t play out until the weekend. Damn.

  He headed that way, watching as she grabbed the handle of the old-fashioned door and twisted, then tugged until the spring caught and she lifted it above her head. The sun rose behind the garage, so he couldn’t see the interior and he knew from experience that she couldn’t, either. Then she reached to the side and found the switch. Even from where he stood, he could see the fluorescent lights buzz to life.

  He saw Lucy then. And at that same moment, Jacey started screaming.

  “I can’t believe they did this,” Jacey mumbled, her face pressed against David’s shoulder as she tried to calm down. She pushed back, searching his face for answers he just didn’t have. “I mean, what kind of sick people are we dealing with?”