He stopped gawking to go help at the bar, serving up beers and getting into the flow and rhythm of the lunch hour, which didn’t leave time to think about much else. Except when he handed a tray of drinks and sandwiches to Joanna who took them with a polite, businesslike smile and turned away.
His thoughts were not as businesslike every time he thought about those long, long legs.
She’d checked out, though. He’d run his own background check, run her car, called a few people, and nothing seemed out of place. So, for now, he was just enjoying the view, he thought with a smile as he watched her walk away.
He hadn’t kept his promise about bringing the fans up to her the night before, and she hadn’t said a word about it. He knew the apartment was hotter than a sauna in mid-summer, but she didn’t complain or make demands.
Truth was, his fans weren’t going to help much, and so he’d driven into Midland the evening before to buy an air-conditioning unit for the space, and had gotten back too late to bring it up to her. He planned to install it today.
“You have the look of a starving man, bucko,” Charlie said with a laugh, sidling up beside him. “And Joanna looks like dinner.”
“You’re imagining things, Charlie.”
“No, I’m not. Been a while since you hooked up with anyone. Do you some good,” Charlie, always the practical one, said. “She looks like she could give you a good—”
“Don’t,” Ben said, cutting his friend off a little more harshly than he meant to, and then slapped his buddy’s shoulder to ease the words. “I need a waitress more than I need to get laid,” Ben said, turning away.
“Says you,” Charlie said, grabbing a bucket of glasses to carry out back.
Ben had been in a less than cheerful mood recently. He couldn’t wait for this damned trial to be over with so he could return to his life. The noise in the bar softened as the lunch crowd started thinning, as workers from the local ranches and other businesses headed to their jobs.
Joanna returned to the bar, took a seat, a thin shine of perspiration on her forehead as she smiled at him. He liked her dark, espresso-brown eyes. She was friendly with the customers, but didn’t flirt—with him, either, though there was chemistry between them—no doubt about that. There was a seriousness about her that suggested depth, and he suddenly wanted to know what books she read, what movies she liked. In the next second, he pulled those thoughts out by the root. This wasn’t a good time, and fooling around with the help was never a good idea.
Ben pushed a glass with ice and a soda across the bar at her and pretended not to notice the slim muscles in her arms, or the delicate arch of her throat as she drank it.
“Can I get you some lunch?” he asked.
“In a little while. I have to help Lisa finish cleaning up, but thanks for the drink. Hot today, even in here, with the AC.”
“Yeah, speaking of that, I’m sorry I didn’t bring the fans up last night, but I went into the city and got an AC unit instead. I can put that in today. It should help a lot. Fans would just push the hot air around.”
She looked sincerely surprised, like someone who didn’t expect people to do nice things for her.
“Hey, hot as it is, it’s a million times better than my car,” she joked with a grin.
“It’s no problem. I should have done it a while ago. If you want, I can go up and put it in while you’re helping Lisa, and—”
“No, really, it’s fine if you want to just wait until later,” she said quickly.
He paused. There it was again, that itchy feeling that something was off.
“I mean, I’m kind of a slob. I don’t want you walking in when I’d left stuff all over the floor, you know, laundry and that kind of thing,” she said with a self-effacing grin.
He relaxed again. “Sure, no problem. Tonight’s fine,” he agreed.
Ben supposed that made sense. It was her space for as long as she was renting, and it wasn’t unreasonable not to want a stranger pawing through her things, not that he would. Considering the relationship she was in before now, he couldn’t blame her for being apprehensive.
“Thanks for the drink. I’m going to go help Lisa,” she said, slipping from the chair and walking back to the kitchen.
Ben put the glass he had been polishing for the past ten minutes back on the shelf behind the bar and closed his eyes, taking a breath and trying to focus. He was rarely this scattered, but Joanna was very distracting.
Maybe Charlie was right. Maybe he should do something about that. It wasn’t good policy to sleep with the help, and she was bouncing off a bad relationship—not the best situation for either of them—but his mind kept traveling back to the same idea.
And he kept pushing it aside. There were plenty of women around to sleep with, if that’s what he wanted, but he needed Joanna on the job.
That was a shame, he thought, as she came back out from the kitchen carrying a tray of freshly filled ketchup bottles, the motion of it deepening the slight cleavage at the edge of her tank top.
A real shame.
JOANNA DUSTED HER HANDS OFF ON her jeans, feeling better as she made her way around the small, basic apartment where dust had collected everywhere. She hadn’t had much time to clean or set the place up yet, and so she worked off some excess energy doing so now.
Changing into her comfortable jeans and a loose white T-shirt was nirvana, shucking the boots for a pair of well-broken-in sandals. Her job took her everywhere, but having her comfortable clothes with her was how she felt at home wherever she was, and this was no different.
After two hours of cleaning, the place sparkled. Callahan wasn’t kidding when he said it was small. One main room had a sofa, a small easy chair and a television. Off the hallway that led to the back, there was a galley kitchen with a mini fridge but no stove.
There was a hotplate and an old-fashioned metal coffeepot on the counter, but she supposed a stove wasn’t necessary when they had a whole restaurant downstairs. Down at the very end of the hall was a bedroom with a futon-like bed and a table, next to it was a tiny, utilitarian bathroom.
Everything was painted a monotone beige, not that it mattered to her at the moment. Her apartment in San Diego had been painted in rich, nourishing colors that were a warm welcome when she came home after a long time on the job. Now, she was between living spaces. During her recovery and transfer, she had lived with her brother and Lacey. She wasn’t sure where she wanted to land permanently yet, though she thought being back in Texas might not be all bad. Spending time with her family again had been nice.
When she had first walked in to the apartment, the windows were closed and the heat was stagnant and suffocating. Now, it was early evening and with every window open—thank goodness the screens were intact—there was a nice breeze coming in. It was still warm, but pleasant enough. She relaxed for a few minutes, looking out over the pastures and hills that sprawled beyond the parking lot of the roadhouse. It was probably going to rain tonight. She could smell it on the air.
Crickets were singing down below. After her mom had taken off, Joanna had had nightmares for months, and she had often had fears of someone being outside her bedroom window in the small, one-floor ranch home that they lived in. It was irrational, but she would wake up terrified and ask her dad to check outside her room several times each night.
So her father had shown her one night how if she listened for the crickets, they would let her know if anyone was really there. He went outside and walked up to her bedroom window several times, and each time, sure enough, the crickets went silent.
Crickets still made her feel safe, content, to this day.
The place was more than adequate for her needs, and it allowed her to be right on top of Callahan a good part of the time. She stopped in the middle of grabbing a beer from the mini-fridge, thinking about all the different ways she’d like to be on top of Ben Callahan.
Being closer to Callahan, however she managed it, would be a good thing—or potentially a bad one�
�if she let things go too far. There was a definite spark there. She knew he wanted her—and in some ways, she’d be stupid not to capitalize on that attraction to keep a closer eye on him.
However, there were strict rules governing the relationship between marshals and the people they protected, and non-fraternization was one of them. However, Callahan wasn’t a part of the WITSEC program, so those rules technically didn’t apply, though sharing his bed could be a problem in a number of professional and ethical ways.
Not that anyone would have to find out.
The problem was…well, she wasn’t exactly sure what the problem was, she thought, slouching back in the chair by the window. It wasn’t as if she was going to fall in love with him or something. If it got the job done and took the edge off, why not?
But she couldn’t talk herself into it.
While no doubt it would be entertaining, Joanna found the idea of sleeping with someone as part of her job distasteful. Flirting a little, or even going on a date, was acceptable. If it helped her to keep him safe, she was okay with that.
Luckily, her phone ringing on the counter discouraged any further fantasizing. She grabbed it, looking at the screen and seeing her brother Jarod’s name pop up.
“Hi, Jarod. What’s up? Everything okay?”
“Everything’s great. How’s it going?”
Her brother cared about her, but he never checked up on her. He absolutely never called her when she was on assignment. Knowing what undercover work was like, he wouldn’t want to do anything to throw her out of her mindset.
“Lacey pestering you to call and see how I am?” she asked, smiling as she realized why her brother was making an exception to the rule.
“How’d you guess? Sorry about this, but she’s been worrying about you all day. She wouldn’t have slept a wink unless I spoke with you.”
“Tell her thanks, and it all went great. Got the job, and even scored an apartment above the bar.”
“Excellent for surveillance.”
“Exactly.”
“How’s your new employer?”
She shrugged, moving out of the kitchen to go sit on the sofa by the window. “Okay. What you would expect, I guess.”
Both of them knew better than to share anything too specific on the phone. She’d have to keep this short, as nice as it was to talk to her brother.
“By the way, Lacey wants me to let you know there’s a ‘cute condo’ here in San Antonio that her friend is selling, if you are interested in seeing it when you get back,” Jarod related, obviously being pushed to do so.
“Tell her maybe I’ll look at it,” she said, and then her phone beeped and she saw her boss’s name pop up.
“Jarod, gotta go—Don is on the other line.”
“Take care of yourself, jelly bean,” Jarod said affectionately, making her smile again by using the nickname he always called her.
“You, too,” she said, hanging up, and answering the other call.
“Wyatt,” she answered, as she always did for work.
“You in?” Don asked in a no-nonsense tone as she stood and paced the small room.
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Good. You’re not still sleeping in your car, are you?”
“No,” she said, stifling a grin. Don was her boss, but he was also a friend who sometimes acted like a second big brother. Although he never cut her any slack when it came to work, and she wouldn’t expect him to. “Callahan had a room free up over the bar, so I took it.”
“Good work. Anything going on?”
“Nope. Pretty dull.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed. You could use some dull.”
“Then I’ll be back chasing bad guys in a few weeks?” she asked hopefully.
“We’ll see. A few things are still to be untangled about your part in that last case. And you could use more recovery time before you’re back out there.”
“Don, seriously, I’m—”
“Just go with it, Jo,” he interrupted, reminding her that chafing at the restrictions wouldn’t help. “This is an easy assignment, but an important one.”
“Just keep an eye on him, and keep a low profile—or try to. I know it’s not your strength,” he said dryly.
“Fine. If you could send me dossiers on a couple people he has working here, that would help.”
She gave him Charlie’s and Lisa’s names. She would feel better once she knew more about the people around Callahan. You never really knew who the enemy was in these cases.
“Will do. You’ll get them electronically. Check in when you can. We don’t have any backup out there for you in the immediate vicinity except for local law enforcement, so if you see trouble, let us know ASAP. Don’t try to handle it yourself. Do you hear that, Jo?”
Hearing a squeak in the boards outside her door, she turned, and changed her tone to a whisper.
“Same as I’ve heard it the twenty other times you said it,” she responded smartly. “Gotta go. I’ll be in touch,” she said, hanging up and walking closer to the door, listening.
She didn’t know if she had just imagined the noise or not.
It could just be the musicians setting up downstairs. Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays the roadhouse had live bands playing, and she’d seen the guys drive in and unpack their gear while she was on the phone.
Her apartment would not be quiet until well past midnight tonight, or for the next few nights, but if the music was good, maybe she’d go downstairs and enjoy it.
A thudding sound, and then a hard, loud knock had her stepping back in surprise, bumping into the table and knocking over the lamp on the small table by the door, her heart hammering. The lamp didn’t break, and she picked it back up, settling it on the table.
“Joanna?” she heard Callahan’s voice on the other side. “What was that? Are you okay?”
She grimaced, standing and setting her phone on the table before she opened the door to find him standing there, a boxed air conditioner at his feet.
“Everything okay in there?” he asked, peering past.
“Fine. I just upset the lamp on my way to the door,” she said, her pulse calming somewhat as she looked back down at the AC unit.
“Here’s the air conditioner. I can get it installed in just a few minutes. Where do you want it?”
Joanna watched appreciatively as he bent to pick up the appliance, which wasn’t small. She enjoyed watching the strong play of muscles in his shoulders and back as he did so.
Swallowing hard, she hoped her warm cheeks didn’t give her away as he met her eyes again.
“So, where do you want it?”
“I’m fine, actually. The place is great with all the windows open.”
He shook his head doubtfully. “Supposed to get up over one hundred again tomorrow.”
“You didn’t need to go to so much trouble.”
She was screwing this up, she knew, and chastised herself for arguing with him. Any form of connection she could forge with Callahan would help her do her job, so why was she rebuffing him? Something about him just made her…itchy.
“Okay, if you say so,” he said, shrugging muscular shoulders as if the air conditioner didn’t weigh a thing.
He turned away, and she closed her eyes, blowing out a breath and sucking up her natural self-reliance. Joanna Wyatt, the U.S. Marshal, didn’t need a guy to take care of her or worry about her, but Joanna Wallace, the waitress without a penny to her name, would not refuse this kindness. And it was hot in the apartment, even with the windows open.
“Wait,” she said, stepping out onto the small, square landing in front of the door and putting a hand on his back to stop his progress.
They both stilled, and she paused a moment before taking her hand away. He turned, his eyes seeming a little darker, a little hotter.
“Yes?”
“Listen, thanks. It would probably make nights more comfortable. I just didn’t want you doing me any special favors.”
“It�
�s just an air-conditioner.”
She nodded. Callahan was a stand-up guy. A nice guy.
She was being ridiculous. This was about her and her hormones, not about him.
“Uh, this is getting heavy,” he said, interrupting her train of thought. “I thought the bedroom might be the best idea?”
Her heart rate skyrocketed. “What?”
“It will keep it cool at night. For sleeping,” he said, not seeming to notice her reaction.
“Oh, right, that makes sense,” she agreed, stepping back into the apartment and holding the door open for him.
“Bedroom it is,” he said, and walked past her and then back to the bedroom.
Holding her breath and praying he would leave before she gave in to her baser instincts, she followed him into the small bedroom, ignoring every warning bell that was ringing in her head.
Joanna turned out of the room and went back to the kitchen, pacing, as she listened to Callahan in her bedroom wrestling the air conditioner into the small window. When she heard profuse cursing, she gave in and went to see if she could help. Surely she was not so pathetic as not to be able to stand in a room with the man, was she?
“Everything okay?” she asked from the doorway. “Do you need help?” Was that her voice sounding a pitch higher and slightly breathless?
“As much as it dents my masculine ego to admit it, I could use a hand with this window,” he said with a short laugh. “The sash cord seems to be broken, and I nearly got my hand caught in there on the last try,” he said. He was squatting on the floor in the small space between the bed and the window, wearing a chagrined smile.
She nodded, crawling over the bed, the only way to get to the other side of the air conditioner without crawling over him.
She wasn’t trying to be enticing, but as she crawled on all fours over the fresh linens that Lisa had brought up, she saw a muscle tick in his jaw as he watched her.
It made her want to lick the spot.
He might let her, too. She’d been around enough men to sense that particular sort of tension in their bodies, that look that said they wanted to get naked as soon as possible.
Straight to the Heart Page 3
