Along Came Trouble: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance

by Ruthie Knox

  Maybe she ought to tell him. Not everything. Not all her fears, and the pressure she was under. How it got so heavy sometimes she couldn’t sleep for feeling suffocated. But maybe she could be honest about why she felt so threatened by his need to protect her.

  She could tell the truth about what she wanted from him.

  Only she didn’t know that herself. She’d told him she wanted sex, but it didn’t feel true anymore. Not only sex, anyway. Maybe something else. Something more.

  From the other end of the house, she heard the sucking sound of the refrigerator door opening, and then the clink as he set a glass on the tile countertop to pour water from the pitcher. The bump of a shoulder against something solid as the side door stuck and then gave, opening into the kitchen. And her brother’s surprised voice saying, “Who the hell are you?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Even with a baseball cap throwing his face into shadow, Jamie Callahan looked like his sister. They moved the same. Scanning the backyard through the window over the sink, Caleb had spotted him coming even before the new security light mounted over the back patio lit him up, but it wasn’t until Callahan came around the side porch, tripping a second light, that he had known for sure he was looking at Ellen’s brother rather than an intruder.

  Though at the moment, even Ellen’s brother seemed like an intruder. Caleb was glad the guy was back for Carly’s sake, but his timing sucked, and his social skills left a little something to be desired.

  “I’m Caleb Clark.” He offered his hand and took a perverse pleasure in realizing how short Jamie was. He had a solid build, but damn, he couldn’t be more than half an inch taller than his sister. Five-ten, maybe. With shoes on.

  Callahan shook his hand firmly, but his eyes kept darting to Caleb’s bare chest as if he’d never seen one before. “You—you’re Ellen’s—”

  “Boyfriend.” He was grateful Ellen wasn’t in the room to object. He was trying to be her boyfriend, and tonight he’d been getting somewhere. Even if she wasn’t ready to talk about Richard, she’d answered his other questions. When he’d left her bedroom, he’ had her exactly how he wanted her—naked, happy, and pink-cheeked from her latest orgasm.

  Glowering as if he could read Caleb’s mind, Callahan asked, “Is Ellen home?”

  “She’s in her room. I’m sure she’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Caleb couldn’t blame him for looking pissed off. If Caleb had walked in on a half-dressed stranger in Katie’s kitchen, he wouldn’t be too happy either. Of course, Katie’s kitchen was his kitchen, which changed the equation. But Ellen kept the spare room for her brother. Maybe it wasn’t all that different.

  What would Caleb want to hear if he were in Callahan’s position?

  I’m not sleeping with your sister.

  Well, he wasn’t going to lie to the man.

  Instead, he said, “Aren’t you supposed to be in Houston right now?”

  “Change of plans.”

  “You were supposed to notify Breckenridge if you planned to return to town.”

  “I decided to keep a low profile. If the vultures knew I was coming here, they’d be all over this place, but since I managed to sneak in through the back, no one knows where I am.”

  “You filed a flight plan, though,” Caleb said, thinking, Bad. Really bad. Jamie must have canceled a big arena show at the last minute, dodged the press, and flown incognito to Ohio. He’d just made himself three hundred times more interesting. And Caleb’s job three hundred times harder.

  “Yeah, they’ll find me eventually. I thought I’d give the yokels a chance to beef up security on Carly and Ellen before they do.”

  “You could’ve given the yokels a chance to do that before you got here. Now they’ll have to scramble. And anyway, it’s reckless for you to go around unprotected.”

  Jamie bristled. “Who are you to call me reckless?”

  “I’m the yokels,” Caleb said evenly. “I own Camelot Security.”

  “You’re the guy Breckenridge hired? Ellen’s bodyguard?”

  “Ellen doesn’t have a bodyguard. But yeah, I’m in charge of her security. And yours, now that you’re here.”

  “Not doing much of a job of it, are you, if I can walk in without alerting a single person?”

  “I saw you coming,” Caleb said reasonably, though the remark had put him on the defensive. “You set off the lights, and if the door had been locked for the night, you’d have been out there on the porch long enough to catch my team’s attention.” He hoped.

  “Where’s the alarm system? Carly and Ellen should have guards at their doors. Guys with Dobermans. Jesus, what kind of fly-by-night operation are you running here?”

  Okay, now Jamie was starting to tick him off. “I had an alarm system put up at Carly’s place. Your sister refused one. My teams make regular patrols around the perimeter. Short of erecting a fence, there’s not much more I can do.”

  With Jamie here, he might have to get that fence up after all. Maybe get the Camelot Police Department to establish a roadblock down by the stop sign. Wouldn’t Ellen love that?

  “You could put men on the doors,” Jamie insisted.

  “You have met Carly, right? And you know your sister. What are the odds of that working out?”

  Callahan looked at the floor for a few beats, and when he raised his head, a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Caleb caught his first glimpse of Jamie’s fabled charisma. The guy was movie-star handsome, and he had a gleaming Hollywood smile. “Zilch. Ellen would kick them off the property, and Carly would invite them in to play poker and eat weird sandwiches.”

  “Welcome to my life.”

  Jamie leaned one hip on the counter and studied him, friendlier now. “So you and Ellen, huh?”

  Caleb braced his hands behind him and forced his muscles to relax, unsure how best to approach this situation. “Yeah.”

  “You like her?”

  “Yeah.”

  How articulate. Ellen’s brother was going to think he was a caveman.

  Jamie nodded, and then he apparently decided Caleb was all right, because he said, “That’s good. She deserves a little fun.”

  Caleb wanted to correct him. He didn’t want Callahan thinking all he was after from Ellen was a good time. He didn’t want anybody thinking that. But just then, Ellen appeared from down the hall, and he lost his train of thought. She’d combed her wet hair and put on ratty track pants and her purple T-shirt. She had a big, glorious, open-hearted smile on her face that lit him up from across the room. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to take her in his arms and swing her around in a circle and tell her he was falling hard for her.

  But it was probably a good thing he didn’t, because it turned out she wasn’t smiling at him.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing the room to throw her arms around Jamie.

  “I got your message.” He gave Ellen a quick squeeze, then asked, “Have you seen Carly?”

  Ellen nodded, grabbing Jamie’s hat off his head and tossing it on the table. “I went over this afternoon. She seems fine. Prickly as a cactus, though.”

  That made Caleb smile. No one noticed. Ellen had given all her attention to Jamie, who’d fixed his own attention out the window at the dark shape of Carly’s house.

  Scrubbing his hand over the two-day stubble on his chin, Jamie asked, “Did she … Does she mention me?”

  Ellen shook her head. “Oh, no. I am so not getting in the middle of this. If you want to talk to Carly, you go over and talk to Carly. I’m not playing messenger for you.”

  Jamie sighed. “She won’t return my calls. Or my texts. I don’t think she’ll let me in.”

  If Jamie was used to compliance, he’d fallen for the wrong woman. Maybe Carly would be good for him.

  But would he be good for her? Carly was going to have a baby. She needed stability—a guy who would watch out for her and the kid, not make her life more complicated. Someone who could appreciate her cha
rms, such as they were, and tamp down her more reckless impulses. Jamie Callahan had run at the first sign of trouble, and now that he was back, it seemed he was too spineless to even knock on her door.

  “What do you expect, an engraved invitation? She’s pissed at you.”

  Jamie glanced at him, surprised. “How well do you know Carly?”

  “Better than you.”

  “Nobody knows Carly better than me.” Jamie looked taller when he said it. Maybe the guy had a spine after all.

  “You care about her?”

  “I love her.”

  Ellen beamed, but the declaration irritated Caleb. If Jamie loved Carly, he had a hell of a way of showing it. “Why’d you leave her here alone, then? She’s got nobody to take care of her, and you hurt her and yelled at her and abandoned her to the sharks.”

  “I was trying to protect her.” Jamie put his hands on his hips. “I didn’t want her to have to deal with—” He broke off suddenly, glaring at Caleb exactly the way Ellen did when Caleb had made her angry. “You know what? It’s none of your business.”

  “Carly’s my friend. You should’ve asked her what she wanted. She can make up her own mind.”

  “Oh my God, would you both shut up?” Ellen said. “Seriously, you can have your pissing contest some other time. Nobody’s going over to Carly’s house tonight anyway. It’s way too late.”

  Caleb cracked a sheepish smile. Maybe he’d gone a little overboard. It had been a long day, but Carly probably didn’t need him to be her white knight. He wouldn’t mind passing the lance along to Callahan, provided the guy showed himself capable of carrying it.

  “Sorry,” Caleb said, and Ellen rewarded him by returning the smile.

  “No problem,” Jamie said. “Ellen, you got anything to eat?”

  They left the argument behind to sit at the kitchen table and watch Jamie eat what was left of the pizza while he turned the details of his escape from Houston into a funny story for their benefit. His heart didn’t seem to be in it, though. After he finished the tale, Ellen peppered him with questions, but he kept glancing over Caleb’s shoulder at Carly’s dark house, rubbing his jaw and brooding until Ellen got him talking again. After a while, she touched his arm and asked, “Are you okay, Jamie? Really?”

  He gave her half a smile and rolled his shoulders, then tilted his head from side to side to stretch his neck. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll crash.” He rose and retrieved his bag from beside the door.

  “We’ll figure it out in the morning,” Ellen said, but Jamie didn’t acknowledge the reassurance.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said to Caleb. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

  Ellen watched him go. “That’s Jamie,” she said when the guest-room door had closed behind him.

  “Yep.” Even if he’d finished forming an opinion of Callahan, which he hadn’t, he knew better than to offer it to Ellen. She might find some things about her brother frustrating, but she obviously adored him.

  “So, Clark.” Her eyes narrowed as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “You’re my boyfriend?”

  Damn. “You heard that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And you don’t approve.”

  She frowned, rubbing her thumb over her bicep. “I told you I don’t want a relationship.”

  “Yeah, but that was before we negotiated.”

  “So?”

  He leaned forward. “That was before I painted you with chocolate syrup and licked it off every delicious inch of you.”

  Her pupils dilated, and he could swear the pulse at the base of her throat picked up, but she stayed in the defensive posture and shook her head. “I don’t see how that changes anything.”

  It stung to hear her say it, though he knew it shouldn’t. He couldn’t expect great sex to change her whole worldview overnight, especially given what he’d learned about her marriage.

  “Just think about it,” Caleb said. He stood and walked behind her to put his hands on her shoulders, then leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Will you do that for me?”

  She didn’t answer.

  He raised her damp, cinnamon-smelling hair and kissed the nape of her neck, then blew gently. She shuddered. “I want to take you back to bed and make love to you again,” he said. “And in the morning, I want to wake up and find you pressed up against me, all sleepy and warm, and I want to touch you and kiss you until you’re making those whimpering, begging sounds that drive me crazy. Then I want to sink inside you, inch by inch, and I want to stay there for a very long time.”

  “Caleb?” Her voice had gone all throaty the way it did when she was aroused.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not my boyfriend. And you can’t spend the night while Jamie’s here.”

  He slid his hands down to her waist and kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulders. “I know I can’t, honey. Because now that Jamie’s here, I’m going to have to go in to the office and spend the next five or six hours getting ready for more people with cameras to show up.”

  “Oh.”

  He hoped he wasn’t imagining the disappointment in her voice.

  Cupping her face in his hand, he turned her chin up toward him so he could kiss her soft mouth. “Good night, Ellen Sydney Callahan.”

  He’d see her in the morning. It wasn’t good enough, but he was a realist. It was as good as it was going to get for now.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Since when do you drink orange juice?” Jamie asked, rooting through his sister’s fridge for something to eat. All she had was beer, kid food, and vegetables. He’d sort of hoped she’d make him breakfast, but she was already working, and he knew better than to ask.

  Maybe he could hire her a service like the one he had back in L.A. that delivered homemade meals directly to his fridge. That way, when he visited, he could just find the container labeled “frittata” or “quiche” or whatever and be done with it.

  But Ellen probably wouldn’t approve. She seemed to like fending for herself. If she didn’t, she would have moved to California to live with him like he’d invited her and Henry to do a million times.

  Shoving aside a box of baking soda and trying not to wonder why she kept it in the fridge, he found nothing behind it but a carton of eggs. Which he didn’t know how to fix.

  He’d never seen the appeal of doing everything yourself when you could hire someone to do it for you. The way he figured it, people should do what they were good at. He was good at singing. Ellen was good at taking care of Henry and being an ass-kicking lawyer. There had to be somebody in Camelot who got his thrills making breakfast. That was the person they needed to locate.

  On the other hand, if he knew how to fix eggs, he could be eating right now. He’d have to add it to his list of competencies to acquire, once he got Carly back.

  “I don’t drink orange juice,” Ellen said from behind him. “Caleb brought it over.”

  “Ah. So you’re at that stage.” He picked up a jar of pickles, then put it back. A man couldn’t have pickles for breakfast, no matter how desperate he was.

  “What stage?”

  “The stage where he brings you stuff, but he doesn’t know you well enough to know what to bring you. Then, later, he’ll know you better, but he’ll no longer have the impulse to wait on you hand and foot, so you’ll never get the peach juice you deserve.”

  He hoped she’d volunteer details about her affair with Caleb, but no such luck. “I don’t like peach juice either,” she said absently. “That’s you.” He only had half her attention. The other half was focused on the fat contract she was reading at the table.

  “Really?” He could have sworn Ellen loved peach juice. “What juice do you like, then?”

  “I don’t like juice in the morning. It’s too sweet. I like coffee.” She picked up a red pen and made a vicious slash through one paragraph.

  He gave up on the fridge and started rooting through the cabinets.

  �
�There are doughnuts on top of the microwave,” she said.

  Hallelujah.

  Of course, he wasn’t supposed to eat doughnuts. He was supposed to stay fit and attractive, lest he lose his appeal to the thirteen-to-thirty-five demographic. He grabbed the whole box and carried it over to the table.

  “These are unreal,” he said after polishing off the second one. The orange juice wasn’t half bad, either.

  “They’re just convenience-store doughnuts,” Ellen said, giving him a skeptical glance over the top of her reading glasses.

  “Did you have one yet?”

  “No.”

  “Eat one, and then tell me it’s not the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

  Ellen picked a glazed chocolate doughnut out of the box and ate it, dropping crumbs onto her contract. Then she picked another one out of the box, and he had a third. “These are pretty damn good,” she conceded.

  “Who’s the contract for?”

  “Aimee Dawson.”

  “You’re amazing.” He’d known he could count on Ellen to help the girl out. “What’s going on with you and Caleb?”

  She looked up, and Jamie smiled. “See what I did there? Misdirection. You were supposed to just spit it out without thinking.”

  “Spit what out?”

  Shrugging, he said, “I don’t know. Whatever there is to spit.”

  He was going for nonchalant, but the truth was he was intensely curious about the man he’d found in his sister’s kitchen last night. As far as he knew, Ellen hadn’t dated anyone since her divorce, and she’d never dated anyone in her life like this Caleb guy. If you did a lineup of every Y-chromosome Ellen had ever gone out with, Caleb would stick out like a chorus dancer with a limp—the one fella with a buzz cut, hard muscles, and testosterone to spare in a sea of skinny guys with too much hair, too much ego, and not nearly enough appreciation for Ellen.

  She turned her attention back to the contract. “It’s a casual thing,” she said. “He’s fun.”