by Lee McKenzie
Let it go. Sharing the details of that report with her now would ruin their evening. In the morning he’d find a way to bring up Donald’s checkered past without letting her know he’d actually seen the report. Bringing it here had been a dumb move. He should have left it at his apartment when he’d picked up Rex.
“How’d the meeting go with your business partners?” he asked.
The timer went, and as she pulled a pan of lasagna from the oven and served it onto plates, she excitedly shared the details for staging her condo before putting it on the market, and the plan to look at a new place on Tuesday.
He carried the plates to the dining table that was already set with candles, cutlery and cloth napkins, and Claire followed with the salad.
Rex stood up, as though expecting an invitation to join them.
“Stay.”
Rex’s disappointment was palpable.
“Would he like to go out on the terrace?” Claire asked. “It’s not quite the same as having a backyard, but it might be more interesting for him than sitting on a mat.”
Before either of them could get up to open the double doors, Claire’s cat strolled into the room. She took one look at the dog and arched herself into a pose perfect for Halloween, ears back, hackles raised. Rex dropped to the floor, flattened himself on the mat and crossed his paws over his nose.
“That is too funny,” Claire said, laughing at the pair of them. “In spite of Chloe’s hissy fits every time she sees a dog, I don’t think she’d ever actually go near one. And poor Rex doesn’t seem to realize he’s way bigger and tougher than she is.”
“That’s why he didn’t make the K-9 unit. He’s a good tracker but every time he sees a cat, he drops like a rock.”
“I wonder why.”
“We figure he must’ve had a run-in with a cat when he was a pup, but no one knows for sure. He’s a good dog, otherwise. Smart, dependable, fearless, except when it comes to cats.”
Claire got up from the table and opened the terrace doors. “Want to go outside, Rex? She won’t bother you out there.”
“Go,” Luke said.
Rex leapt to his feet and made a run for it.
“Chloe doesn’t go outside?” Luke asked.
Claire came back to the table and sat down. “Not a chance. She’s pretty much afraid of her own shadow. Her reaction to dogs is purely a defense mechanism.”
Luke picked up his fork and sampled the lasagna. “Wow, this is really good.”
“Thank you.”
“Seriously, this is probably the best I’ve ever tasted. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
“From my Nonna DeAngelo. My sister and I used to spend summer vacations with her in Chicago. She’s an amazing cook, and lasagna is one of her specialties. I like to think mine is almost as good as hers.”
“Hard to imagine anything better than this,” he said after downing another mouthful.
Claire wagged a finger at him. “If you ever meet my nonna, it’ll be best not to mention that.”
He had just been starting to relax, getting used to the idea of being here with Claire, but the thought of meeting her family brought back the guilt he’d been feeling while he stood outside her door a while ago. He wanted to be here with her, regretted that he had to deceive her, hated to think how she’d react when she found out.
Maybe she didn’t need to find out.
That was always a possibility, one the old Luke would have welcomed and taken full advantage of. The man he was now, the man he wanted to be with Claire, couldn’t do it. He needed to prove to her that he was honest, reliable and here for her, so that by the time they busted the brothel and, hopefully, had Phong in custody, she wouldn’t feel she’d been taken advantage of.
He’d start by cleaning up the kitchen. And then he’d take her down the hall and remind her again why she really needed him here.
Chapter Ten
Driving home from the office late Friday afternoon gave Claire a chance to reflect on all the changes in her life since she had run into Luke. So many changes that it was nearly impossible to believe it had only been a week ago. The days since Luke moved in had flown by in a flurry of appointments with her lawyer, her real estate agent and her business partners. Those were interspersed with moments spent with him, some stolen, others planned, all like a dream that had unexpectedly yet almost magically come true.
His dog and her cat had grudgingly reached a truce, although Rex was still on the defensive whenever Chloe got too close. Claire loved taking Rex for a walk, and one afternoon she had even gone for a run with him and Luke. Just as suspected, she’d had a hard time keeping up.
Twice Luke had taken her out on the Ducati, and she’d decided that living dangerously had some serious advantages. The only thing better than riding on the bike, with her arms around him and her body on fire, happened in the bedroom.
What struck her most, though, was how much he had changed over the years. Sitting astride the bike in his leather jacket, he still looked very much like the devilish Luke Devlin she’d crushed on in college, but the reality was very much the opposite. He was thoughtful about how he adapted to her routine, interested in her ideas and opinions on everything, helpful around the house. A gentleman in every sense of the word. Every woman’s fantasy. The bedroom was another matter. Her fantasy was no match for the reality, and he wanted to be with her, Claire DeAngelo, in spite of the extra pounds.
On Monday she’d met with her lawyer and gone over the divorce papers, and they had pretty much agreed with everything. There would be a fifty-fifty split of the proceeds of the condominium after it sold. To her relief, Donald wasn’t asking for anything from her business, which meant she couldn’t go after any of his investments, either. Since she wanted nothing of his, that was not a problem. The only sticking point was the Beatrix Potter book, and now that she knew its value and that he would sell it the first chance he got, she had dug in her heels and flatly refused to hand it over.
Still tucked inside the book was the card his grandmother had written when she had given the book to her.
Dearest Claire,
Because you share my love of books, I’m giving this one to you. It’s my hope that someday you’ll share The Tale of Peter Rabbit with your children, and so they learn the importance of always listening to their mother.
With much love,
Hettie Robinson
She had shown the card to her lawyer, who agreed that the book had undisputedly been a gift to Claire, not to Claire and Donald. She was confident that, if necessary, a judge would agree, so the book was removed from the property settlement and for now remained locked in the safe at the Ready Set Sold office. On Kristi’s suggestion, as they staged the condo, the rest of Claire’s collection of children’s books had been packed into boxes, three of them, and hauled down to the storage room.
Luke had helped her, and he had been surprised by how many she had and how old some of them were. Many had been hers since childhood—several even contained her name awkwardly printed in crayon. Others she’d acquired over the years at bookstores, flea markets and garage sales, and a few had been gifts from close friends who knew about her passion for children’s books.
Luke had also seemed taken aback by her fondness for them. She hadn’t wanted to ask why, but she could guess. To him they likely represented the things he didn’t want, including a family.
With everything that had happened this week, Claire had pushed the possibility of a pregnancy to the back of her mind. Now, driving home at the end of a busy week and looking forward to some free time this weekend, all the what-ifs and the flutter of anxiety that accompanied them were back.
Don’t think about it. It was probably still too soon for a home pregnancy test to give reliable results, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know anyway. Right now, by not knowing, she didn’t owe Luke any kind of explanation. If she was pregnant, she would have to tell him, and she didn’t know how he would react.
Yes, you do.<
br />
He would react to her news the same way he reacted to Sherri’s. Badly. He’d feel duped and angry, and who could blame him? She’d told him she was on the Pill, and he’d had sex with her, believing she had everything taken care of. She’d gone into this knowing it wasn’t a forever thing but she was happy right now, maybe happier than she had ever been, and she wasn’t ready for it to end.
She debated whether or not to stop and pick up groceries, and decided against it. She was in a celebratory mood, and she and Luke deserved a night out. Yesterday she’d put the condominium on the market, and this morning she had put an offer on the little yellow house with the white picket fence. It was a good offer, and her agent expected a response from the sellers by this evening. The house was perfect, and she had her fingers crossed she would get the response she was hoping for. As soon as she got home, she would call to make a reservation at her favorite Italian restaurant, then she’d run a nice hot bubble bath. If Luke was home, maybe he’d join her.
Her body was already humming with anticipation as she turned the corner onto her street and saw the police barricade at the end of the block, in front of her building.
No, it was the building next door.
That’s where Luke had been doing some sort of undercover work with a window-washing company, although, come to think of it, he hadn’t mentioned it again and she hadn’t seen them there this week.
A uniformed officer waved her around the corner, which meant she couldn’t access the underground parking garage. She rolled down her car window.
“Hi,” she said to the man in the middle of the intersection. “I live in this building.”
“Sorry, ma’am. The street’s closed due to a police incident. I can’t let anyone through.”
“You mean I can’t get into my apartment?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Do you know what this is about, or how long it’s going to last?” It was obviously something pretty serious, but she couldn’t help feeling a little resentful. There was a bubble bath up there that had her name on it.
“Sorry,” he said. An unintelligible voice crackled over his radio, although apparently he understood it because he gave a clipped response before turning his attention back to her. “Ma’am, I have to ask you to move along. We need to keep this area clear for emergency vehicles.”
This was getting her nowhere. Better to find a place to park and call Luke. Maybe he could get her inside.
Two blocks away she pulled into a parking space, dug her phone out of her bag and pulled up Luke’s number. The call went to voice mail, so she gathered her handbag and briefcase from the passenger seat and walked the two blocks downhill to her building. Since this was a police matter, Luke had to be here. If she could find him, he could tell her what was going on, maybe even get her inside.
The police officer she’d spoken to earlier was occupied with more motorists wanting to know what was going on. Beyond the barricade were numerous police cars with lights flashing, two ambulances and dozens of people milling around on the sidewalk across the street. On the corner, a news reporter she recognized from a local television station faced a camera and spoke into a microphone, but Claire couldn’t get close enough to hear what she was saying.
She scanned the crowd, looking for Luke and hoping she didn’t find Donald. After they’d listed the condo and her lawyer had sent the amended divorce papers to his lawyer, he had backed off this week. Now would not be a good time for him to show up.
What on earth was going on here? she wondered as she continued her search for Luke. And then there he was, lean and solid, dark hair curling over the collar of his leather jacket. She’d recognize that jacket anywhere. He stood with his back to her, talking with two other men, Rex sitting at his side. They were almost as tall as Luke. The one facing her had sandy-blond hair and was wearing a grey Seahawks hooded sweatshirt. The other had jet-black hair and a faded jean jacket. Both were undercover cops like Luke, she was sure of it. Whatever this was, it must be big.
After a quick backward glance to see that the officer on the street was still distracted by onlookers and passersby, she slipped past the barricade, dodging other people as she made her way toward him. She was within earshot when the blond guy in the grey hoodie reached out and gave Luke a playful jab in the shoulder.
“Nice work, Luke. If you hadn’t sweet-talked that chick upstairs into letting you move in and set up surveillance, we’d’ve never have nailed this guy.”
“And you managed to keep her in the dark all this time?” the dark-haired guy asked.
Luke nodded and laughed. “She doesn’t have a clue.”
Several seconds ticked by before she realized they were talking about her, and then her shoes might as well have been glued to the pavement. Luke had laughed. Called her...
“Clueless?” She must have said it out loud because three heads swung her way.
Luke’s cocky grin faded as the color literally drained from his face.
She had let herself be taken in by his looks, his charms, all that phoney vulnerability. What had seemed too good to be true was, well, too good to be true. She had acted like a fool, and he had played her as one.
“You smug son of a bitch. You sweet-talked me into this? You think I’m clueless?”
“Shit. Claire, listen—”
“No, you listen. As soon as this three-ring circus is cleared up, I want you and your crap out of my apartment.”
“I can explain—”
“Explain what? That you still treat women the way you always did, sweet-talking them into giving you whatever you want? Save your breath. I get it. You haven’t changed at all.”
The touch of Rex’s cool, damp nose against her hand tugged at her heartstrings, but not enough to calm her down. She should be furious, but right now the humiliation left no room for anger. She had nothing to say, and she’d be stupid to stand here and let him make this even worse, so she did the only thing that made sense. She swung away from him and ran.
After no more than ten steps he caught up and grabbed her by the arm. “Claire, wait.”
“No!” She pulled away. “Don’t touch me.”
He let go immediately. “I know how that sounded but if you’d let me explain—”
No way. “I might be naive, but I’m not stupid.” Aware of the people around them, that his friends were watching, she struggled to keep calm. “The sweet talk is over, Luke. We’re done.” She turned away again and this time he let her go.
She hurried past the barricade and up the hill to her car. After the first block, she stopped to catch her breath and glanced back to be sure he wasn’t following her. He wasn’t.
She trudged up the second block, cursing men for being heartless, heartbreaking jerks, cursing Seattle’s steep hills, wondering what she should do when she did get to her car. Call one of her friends? Kristi, she decided. She was good in a crisis.
Once in her car, she locked the doors and pulled a bottle of water out of her bag. Her hands shook so bad, it was all she could do to unscrew the cap and hold the bottle to her lips long enough to take a few sips. After she put it away and drew a couple of deep breaths, she got out her phone and called Kristi.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry,” her friend said after Claire spilled the details. “You need to come straight to my place, as long as you’re okay to drive. I can pick you up if you’d like.”
“I’m okay.” Or at least better than she’d been a few minutes ago. “Thanks, Kristi.”
“Don’t even mention it. I’m pretty sure I owe you one anyway. I’ll call Sam and see if she’s free. She’ll either join us, or go hunt Luke down and kick his ass.”
That made Claire laugh. “See, this is why I love you guys.”
“Right back at you. Now get yourself over here.”
“I’m on my way.” She tossed the phone into her bag and pulled on her sunglasses. She hoped Kristi would let her stay the night. She had no idea when she could get back into her buildin
g, and she wouldn’t go back, anyway. Not until she was sure Luke had cleared out of her apartment and out of her life, this time for good.
* * *
LUKE WANTED TO PUNCH something. Of all the crappy bad luck that had come his way, this was the crappiest.
“Look, man.” Cam Ferguson wore the concerned look of a man who figured he could end up on the receiving end of somebody’s fist. “I am so sorry. I had no idea that was your woman.”
“Not your fault.” Much as Luke would like it to be. He’d been trying to play it cool, not wanting to let on to anyone that he had feelings for Claire, and it had backfired. Big-time.
“You want to go after her?” Jason asked. “We’re winding down here. Patsy’s already got the girls in the van. She’s taking them to a safe house for questioning. And here’s Derek now.”
“Thanks, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Instead he turned his attention to the main entrance and watched Derek escort Phong, hands cuffed behind him, into the back of a waiting police car. The moment they’d all been working and waiting for, and now it was a total anticlimax. Behind them, uniformed officers led three more men out of the building. One was Phong’s pimp/drug dealer. The other two were a couple of johns who had the dirty rotten luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He could relate. Before Claire showed up, he’d been about to take Rex back upstairs to the condo. Instead he’d stuck around, not wanting to miss this, and now he’d screwed up everything.
He knew Claire well enough to know that when she told him to get out, she meant it. And who could blame her? He had hurt her and he hated himself for it. Now it was up to him to find a way back in. If he wanted any kind of a shot at fixing this, he had to give her some space, a chance to calm down. It would be better to call her. Not that she would answer, but he could leave a message, apologize, explain why he couldn’t be honest with her, and why he hadn’t been honest with his colleagues. Could he convince her that using her place for surveillance wasn’t his only reason for wanting to be with her? Or would she always believe he was still the same smug son of a bitch she’d known in college? Time would tell. All he could do now was hope for the best.
