Just Trust Me, A Brother's Best Friend Novel (Carrington Cousins Book 2)

by Amy Summers

  But finally the last customer left and Rosa went home, still talking about her cousin Sandra as she walked out the door. David cleaned up, made the routine preparations for the next day and closed down the place.

  He'd left the outside entrance door unlocked and he half hoped Madison would be upstairs when he got there, but the apartment was empty. He checked the door; it was unlocked. He stared out into the night and wished he had some idea of where she was.

  He could still hear her voice in his head. She was in danger. He was sure of it. He couldn't stay here and wait, knowing that. He had to do something. If only he had some idea of where to find her.

  The marina. She'd said something about that. And the telephone connection had been full of static, as though she'd been calling from a ship phone. Grabbing a light jacket, he raced down the outside stairway and folded his long body into his small sports car. The ride to the marina only took a few minutes. He cruised the place for a quarter of an hour, but he didn't see anything that would make him think she was there. Detouring off on every side street, he rode slowly back home. There wasn't a sign of her. He was beginning to wonder if he'd made her up in his head.

  The apartment was still empty. He paced through the simple two-room space for over an hour, then lost patience with himself.

  "You don't even know this woman," he lectured himself out loud. "She probably won't show up. And if she does, she'll look like Russ with longer hair and glasses." He squinted, making himself see that picture.

  But he couldn't convince himself to stop waiting for her, until the clock struck two in the morning and he decided he had to get some sleep. He took a shower, more to calm himself down than anything else, and when he stepped out, slipping into a robe and humming to himself, he thought he heard something.

  Stopping, he listened. No. There was no one there. It was all in his head. She wasn't coming, and he was a fool to care. He pulled open the bathroom door, stepped into the bedroom and found that he was dead wrong. There was someone there, all right. In fact, there were two someones. Two very young someones.

  "Hi, mister," said one of them, a little girl with sandy blond hair in braids and freckles on her turned-up nose. She and a little boy were sitting at the foot of David's bed, swinging their feet, their huge eyes trained on his every move.

  "Uh, hi, guys," David replied unsteadily, thrown completely off guard. He blinked at them, not sure whether he might be seeing things. "What's new?"

  The little boy piped up. "Mama told us to stay here. She said, 'Don't move.'"

  "I see." He glanced at the little girl. She looked older than the boy, maybe six or seven to his four or five. "Where did she go, exactly?"

  "She'll be back in a minute," the little boy interjected. "That's what she said. In a minute."

  The little girl nodded but didn't say another word. They both looked at him expectantly. After all, he was the adult. He would know what to do next.

  But he had no idea. Kids. He didn't know a thing about them. He hadn't talked to any since he'd been a kid himself, and that was a time he didn't much like to remember.

  Don't show any fear, he told himself silently. Hadn't he heard somewhere that they could sense fear, just like dogs? His experience with children was nil. For all he knew, they barked and fetched, as well.

  Their mother had to be Russ's sister. At least, he certainly hoped so. If this was just some new random group of visitors, he was going to have a very busy night.

  "What are you two doing here?" he asked at last, still puzzled by that one.

  They stared at him wide-eyed.

  "Mama said you are going to baby-sit us," the little girl said at last.

  The concept hit him like a sock on the chin. "I'm going to what?"

  No, no. That wasn't the deal. One beautiful damsel in distress with a husky voice was the deal he'd signed on for. Nothing had been said about a pair of ragtag kids who needed to be looked after every moment.

  He reacted like any other red-blooded male confronted with such an unwelcome prospect. "I can't do it," he protested quickly. "I'm no baby-sitter."

  They both nodded solemnly in unison.

  "Mama said."

  That was obviously the last word on any subject. For just a moment he had a panicked nightmare vision. What if she'd left these kids with him? What if she wasn't coming back at all?

  "Where is she?" he asked, looking around as though she might spring at him and yell "boo" at any given moment.

  "She went back down to get the suitcase," the little boy told him solemnly. "We had to leave it on a comer 'cuz it got too heavy."

  David looked at him levelly. It sounded like a ploy to him. If she didn't show up in another few minutes...

  But there was a sound at the door, and then she was in the room, a small suitcase in her hand.

  "Hi," she said breathlessly. "Sorry about this."

  He turned and looked at her, and time stood still. He'd been telling himself for hours that she would never look as good as she sounded, and he'd been right.

  She looked even better.

  Her hair still caught the moonlight from the open doorway. It settled around her shoulders like a lacy piece of midnight mist she might have picked up as she came through the dark. Silvery blonde, it looked like spun satin, light as a breeze.

  Her eyes were the kind of blue he'd seen on antique Chinese silk, dark and luminous and studded with stars. Her body was slender, her movements a little too quick, impatient. She had her shoulders set with quiet determination, and there was anxiety in her pretty face, but all the same, there was a sense that laughter might bubble up from just below the surface at any moment.

  She didn't look like Russ at all. David felt tongue-tied--like a ten-year-old with his first crush—as she came toward him, her hand outstretched with the quick, casual self-confidence one only got through a certain sort of breeding.

  "I'm Madison Carrington," she said. "And you are a saint."

  He took her hand and tried not to look as foolish as he felt, standing there in his robe. His eyes met hers, but he couldn't hold the gaze. It was like staring into the sun.

  "Are these yours?" he asked, nodding toward the children.

  Her natural grin was a little strained around the edges, but still serviceable. "Guilty as charged. I hope they haven't been bothering you."

  "Not at all." He hesitated, looking down at her hand as she finally pulled it away again. No wedding ring, he noted, then frowned to make up for the thought. He was still reeling from the way she looked, the way she sounded. He'd expected to enjoy this. He hadn't expected to be overwhelmed, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

  "I didn't realize you would come with accessories."

  "Oh, didn't I mention the kids when I spoke to you on the phone?" She looked genuinely surprised. "Sorry. This is Jill and this is Chris. We come as a set, I'm afraid." That radiant smile again. "Children, this is David Coronado, your Uncle Russ's best friend in the whole world."

  What could he say? Solemnly, he shook hands with the children, and they shook hands back, and then bounced on the bed. He frowned again, looking at them. Did they ever stop moving?

  She glanced at him sideways, seeming to sense his misgivings. "Is this the only bedroom?" she asked, looking around.

  He nodded. "You three will have to share the bed. There's a couch out on the landing over the cafe. I'll use that."

  Her slender hand flashed in the air between them. "Never. We'll take the couch. Or the floor. Just give us some blankets. We'll do fine. We are not going to kick you out of your own bed."

  He turned to look at her, still stunned by the way she looked, the way she sounded. He knew he was staring at her, but something kept telling him she couldn't possibly be the genuine article. She was like something out of an adolescent dream. And everybody knew you couldn't trust dreams.

  "Take the bed," he said rather more gruffly than was necessary, but that was to try to cover up the way she threw him off balance. "Of course you'll tak
e the bed."

  She looked at him uncertainly for a moment. Then, as though she'd read something in his eyes, she nodded. "All right. Thank you very much."

  Her gaze dropped to take in his bare legs, and suddenly he was very conscious of how naked he was under the flimsy robe.

  "Uh, I'll get something on," he muttered, turning back into the tiny bathroom. He pulled the door, but not all the way, so he could still talk to her.

  "There are extra blankets in the closet. And more pillows, too." He dropped the robe and pulled on his slacks, but his shirt was wadded up on the floor, soaking up water from his shower. There was no hope there. He emerged again, shirtless and barefoot. "And plenty of fresh towels on the shelf under the sink in the bathroom," he said.

  He turned and looked at her in time to catch the slight widening of her eyes as she took in his muscular chest and the way his stomach flattened, washboard tight, where it disappeared beneath his belt. For just a moment he wasn't sure what that hot feeling in his face was. And then he realized he was blushing.

  Blushing. He was a thirty-year-old man with a wealth of experience with women, and he was blushing because this one had let him know with one fleeting glance that he was sexually attractive. What was the matter with him? Was he losing his mind?

  He took a deep breath and glanced at the case she'd gone back for. "How did you get here?" he asked, working hard to keep his voice low. He had a quick fear of hearing it crack, like it used to when he was fourteen.

  "We walked."

  "You walked?" It was over a mile to the nearest tourist area, and half a mile from the marina. But all of that was down at sea level. It was quite a climb to his grandparents' restaurant. "All the way up that hill with those two kids in tow?"

  She hesitated, her eyes clouding. "I didn't dare take a cab. He... he could have traced where we had gone and I couldn't take that chance," she admitted nervously.

  David stared at her, wondering what to believe. His first reaction was to think that this lady had been watching too much television. "Who is he?" he asked softly.

  She glanced at where the children were bouncing on the bed, shaking her head, and he got the message. She didn't want to talk about it in front of the kids. Well, that was all right with him. But she was going to have to talk about it sometime.

  She turned and picked up the little suitcase, dropping it on the bed. She was wearing a powder blue jumpsuit in some sort of fabric that looked like cashmere, with soft ballerina flats on her feet. When she moved, her hair settled around her every time, like something out of an animated movie. He couldn't shake the feeling that she couldn't possibly be real.

  "I brought along a few of the children's clothes, but I couldn't get to any of my things." She flipped open the case and pulled out some brightly colored pajamas. "You don't happen to have any spare nightgowns around, do you?"

  The thought of her in a nightgown did strange things to his sense of balance, and he leaned against the wall, trying to be casual and stop swaying in the breeze at the same time.

  "Sorry. The only person who ever uses this apartment is me, when I come down to visit my grandparents."

  She looked up at him and smiled. "Russ said that you come down periodically. And when I told him we were going to Mexico he gave me your address and phone number—just in case. I guess I'm really lucky you happened to be here just when I needed you."

  Lucky. He wasn't sure if that was the right word for it. He wanted to smile at her, but he couldn't. He had to keep his guard up.

  But that didn't mean he couldn't try to be friendly. "Listen, you can use one of my shirts, if you want to."

  "Really?" She was smiling again and he wished she would quit it. "That would be great."

  Good Lord, he was going to blush again. Silently but vehemently, he uttered an ugly four letter word and turned away. This was ridiculous. He was usually in control of himself and everything around him. He didn't like this feeling of helplessness.

  He turned back, his face as hard as he was going to force his heart to be. Madison was looking at him curiously, but he paid no attention to that. He glanced from her to the children to the bed.

  "Are all three of you going to be able to sleep in this narrow bed?" he asked, wishing he had something more luxurious to offer.

  But she didn't seem to notice any lack. "Sure. We're used to it. They crawl in bed with me at night when they're scared all the time. Don't you?" she said to Jill and Chris.

  The two children bounced up into her arms and she gave them a quick squeeze, laughing.

  "Okay, first one in pajamas gets to tell the good-night story.''

  Articles of clothing began to fly across the room, and David realized this was his cue to leave.

  "I'll be right out here on the landing in case you need anything," he said, turning to go.

  She nodded rather absently, watching her children. Then she looked up, gave him a quick smile and followed him out of the room.

  "I do want to thank you again. It's so kind of you to take us in this way. I hope we haven't disrupted your life too much. Think of us as refugees from the storm."

  He turned and looked down at her. He was beginning to get hold of himself again. She was pretty, but so what? She was just a woman, like any other woman: flesh and blood, virtues and faults, good days and bad days. And she was also asking for a lot of favors without handing back much information. It was time she set the record straight.

  "Just exactly what are you a refugee from?" he asked evenly, searching her face for a hint of an answer.

  "What?" Her eyes were blank.

  He frowned. He didn't like being stonewalled. "What are you running from? What's got you so spooked?"

  She stared right back at him, not backing down. "Who says I'm spooked?"

  He leaned a little closer, his eyes hard as stones. "I say it, lady. You said something on the phone about being trapped. I can see you've been scared today. You're still on edge. Don't try to con me."

  She licked her lips, a flash of anger appearing and then vanishing again quickly in the depths of her blue eyes. "I'm not trying to con you, David," she said quietly, using that voice again, almost like a weapon. "But I am going to protect my privacy."

  He smiled, but there was more mockery in it than mirth. "Privacy is one of the first things you lose when you're on the run," he said coolly. "I still haven't figured out why you're running. Do you think this man you've...been with will come after you?"

  She winced at the way he said been with, and he was almost sorry he'd put it that way. Almost, but not quite. It did annoy him to think of her with some sleaze she'd ended up having to run away from. She was Russ's sister, after all. She ought to take better care of herself—and her kids.

  "Yes," she answered, accepting his terminology.

  He shrugged. "Who is he? What's going on?"

  There was no hesitation in her response. "I don't really want to talk about it."

  His eyes hardened as he stared down at her. "And I don't want to go to bed not knowing."

  She searched his eyes, her silvery blue gaze cool and assessing. Suddenly a wall seemed to slam into place. She lifted her chin and turned away.

  "We're in the way here," she said crisply, turning back toward the room where her children were getting into bed. "I'm sorry. We'll pack back up and leave right away."

  She started to march off, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.

  "What are you talking about?" he demanded, holding her firmly. "What's the matter?"

  She glared at him defiantly, her indignation unleashed. "You don’t want us here. You've made that plain enough."

  Now where did she get a crazy idea like that? "That's not true," he said quickly. "That's not true at all."

  Her eyes flashed. "Then why are you so angry?"

  He blinked at her, surprised. Why was he so angry? Maybe angry wasn't the right word. Bothered was more like it.

  "I'm not angry," be claimed, but his words rang a
bit hollow. He had been acting gruffly and he knew it. He had to. It was a case of self-defense. His fingers loosened their hold on her shoulders and his face softened. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to come across like a jerk."

  "Not a jerk." A smile tugged at the comers of her mouth. "Just an annoyed person."

  He shook his bead. "Listen, you're Russ's sister. My house is yours." He paused, releasing her, then continued. "But there's something going on. If I'm hiding you from someone, I think I have a right to know who and what I'm up against."

  She nodded slowly, her eyes dark and mysterious. "You're right, of course." Her smile was strained. "But that still doesn't mean I'm going to go into it now. I'm really tired and I'm not up to explaining it all to you right now. You're going to have to give me some time. I have to sort it out in my own mind first." She hesitated, then faced him. "I'll just tell you this. Yes, I am running from a man. We were on his yacht in the marina. It became impossible to stay. I've got to get back to the States as quickly as possible."

  "Without him knowing."

  She pushed her hair back and suddenly she looked as tired as she claimed to be. "Yes. I have some business affairs to take care of in the morning. And then we'll be out of your hair."

  Her blue eyes were clear and fearless, but they were also hiding something. Still, he knew he wasn't going to get any more information out of her tonight. He watched her disappear into the apartment and he groaned softly.

  Bother. Yes, that was the word all right. She bothered him, rubbed him raw, turned him on, made him feel as loose as a lusting teenager. And he didn't like it at all.

  She would be gone in mere hours. That was what he kept telling himself as he stripped out of the slacks and slipped beneath the sheet he'd put on the lumpy couch. She would be gone and life could go back to normal. Now if he could just get some sleep

  But sleep didn't come. He lay listening to the sounds of the three of them bedding down for the night, and when the noises ceased and he knew they were all out like lights, he still stared into the darkness, thinking about Madison.

  Was it because she was Russ's sister that she was having this tremendous effect on him? Was it the silken voice or the beautiful face? Was it the haunted look he saw in her eyes? Or the way she didn't back down?