by Regan Black
“Your doubt doesn’t change the facts,” he said, his smile back to full force now.
This had to be another ploy to get her to open up. He was too curious to drop that agenda. From the beginning he’d been asking about her past. What had been for the sake of the case felt far more intimate now. Thank goodness they hadn’t slept together.
Yet. She’d be happy if that pesky voice went mute.
“These are amazing,” he said after he’d downed half his breakfast. “What’s your secret?”
“If I told you it wouldn’t be my secret.”
His gaze turned serious. “You can trust me with any secret,” he said. “Big or small.”
She thought of one of the cooking show hosts talking about love being the best seasoning of all. Love wasn’t in play here. Only chemistry. Food chemistry, she corrected quickly. Julia had added a splash of orange juice and some nutmeg to the batter. “I wanted to do something nice for you,” she said. What an understatement.
“You don’t owe me anything, Julia.”
They would have to agree to disagree on that. She gave him a smile and felt it wobble. “I...” She tried again. “I wanted us to be comfortable with each other again before we head to dinner.”
“Comfortable?” He sat up straighter, his thumb moving slowly over the curve of the handle of his mug. “Why would we be uncomfortable?”
The motion reminded her of the way that same thumb had traced the curve of her breast last night. Oh, good grief. That was exactly the place her thoughts should not go. “What’s the dress code?” she asked, ignoring the breathy little catch in her voice.
Mitch’s gaze narrowed as he focused his attention on her face. “Relaxed. Dad always changes as soon as they get home from church.”
She sputtered. Could his family get any more traditional?
His dark eyebrows arched high. “Got a problem with church, too?” The flash of humor in his eyes softened the challenging question.
She rolled her eyes, exasperated with both of them. “No.” She had a problem with her general lack of religious experience and education. Attending church regularly had been another college experiment as she’d tried to figure out who she wanted to be. The services and events had been nice. Calming. But she’d put her faith and focus into the practicality of law. “I’m glad you didn’t insist we join them. It would have been tragic if a lightning bolt meant for me singed you.”
He grinned and then finished his breakfast. Clearing their plates, he paused and gave her a heart-stopping look. “You can quit wasting time trying to convince me you’re some kind of amoral shark disguised as a beautiful, compassionate woman. I know better.”
The compliment left her speechless. She wasn’t sure what he thought he knew or how she felt about the words he aimed at her. “Mitch—”
“You’re overthinking it again,” he said, running water over the dishes. “I can hear the gears in your head turning all the way over here.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” she protested. How could he? He didn’t know her, didn’t know how utterly wrong she was for him. She didn’t even understand why she wanted to be right for him. For anyone, she amended. Alone, she could accomplish her goals without fear of hurting anyone. Staying single meant she didn’t have to worry about her money-grabbing mother or the shadows in her past spilling over onto someone else’s life.
Only a mysterious stalker had shifted her out of her preferred state of being perennially unattached and Mitch was hip deep in her problems. “You’re a good person,” she began, searching for better words.
“So are you.” He whirled around, his eyes flashing with temper. “Thank you for breakfast,” he added, visibly pulling himself together. “I’ve got a few things to take care of out back. Call me if you need anything.”
Startled into silence, she stared after him. How could she make him understand she only wanted to keep the fallout to a minimum?
*
Mitch cussed himself out the rest of the morning. Why couldn’t he crack Julia’s hard shell? She’d made him breakfast and he’d snapped at her. How had she put it? That making pancakes was her way of being comfortable again together. He’d liked the sound of that, until he realized she’d meant it as a penance.
She didn’t owe him any gesture for stopping that heated embrace last night. While he was definitely eager to break through those massive walls she’d built, he was a little unnerved to realize he wanted her secrets as much as he wanted her body. More. Sure, she trusted him to shelter her from the stalker. Why couldn’t she trust him with the real woman under the layers of education and sexy-as-hell business suits?
He’d washed the dishes, worked out back, cleaned up for dinner, and still not been able to shake off the feeling of being cared for and valued just for being present. And she still didn’t seem to understand what a gift that was. A gift she’d given him. He wasn’t the only good person in this equation.
After changing clothes twice, she’d settled on snug dark jeans and a soft, pale green top that subtly emphasized her delectable figure. She wore sleek boots with enough of a heel to bring her lips within easy reach. He wanted to mold his hands over each amazing dip and swell of her body. And if he kept thinking about it, he’d be exceedingly uncomfortable as he introduced her to his family.
He cleared his throat. “This could get dicey,” he warned on the short drive over. “No one in my family really knows when to shut up or stop asking questions.”
“I promise not to sue anyone for nosiness,” she replied.
“Ha-ha.” The reply irritated him. “You know damn well that’s not what I meant.”
Julia turned that stoic, knowing gaze on him, the one he imagined would leave a prosecutor sweating through his suit in a courtroom. “You’re nervous.”
“A little.” No sense denying it. He hoped his candor helped unleash hers. “Not about you,” he said, with a smile. “My siblings have a tradition of pestering the one who brings a guest.”
She jerked in her seat, as if he’d thrown more than words at her. His hands flexed on the steering wheel.
“Do me a favor?” she said, her gaze straight ahead.
Anything. “What do you need?”
“Don’t say another word about your family before we get there.”
The request startled him. “Can I ask why?”
“You won’t get an answer.”
He bit back another terse response at the sound of her cool, composed voice, though it cost him. Waiting didn’t come easy and she’d been pushing the limits of his curiosity. When would she open up? “Will you tell me on the way home?” he asked, parking behind a line of cars at the curb.
He caught the soft gasp and saw her press a hand to her stomach. “What’s wrong?”
Instantly, her face smoothed into the emotionless mask she’d employed with her boss. The same look she’d worn when she’d aimed a gun on the fake cop. “I’m fine.” She reached for the door and he stopped her.
“Julia.” Beneath his fingers, he felt her trembling. When she met his gaze, her lips parted on a hiccup and then she pressed her shaking hands between her knees. That did it. He shoved the key in the ignition and started the car again. “We’ll go.” He pulled out into the street without looking. Someone honked, but he didn’t care. He floored it. “I’m a jackass,” he said, downshifting to stop at the sign on the next corner. “We’re leaving. Just breathe.”
“Mitch. Go back. I’ll manage. It’s just—”
“All the people,” he finished for her. How could he tease her about not being a callous shark and then ignore her fear of putting anyone else at risk? Stupid. He wanted her to meet his family, to share that side of himself with her. Too soon. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s me,” she said. “I’m being ridiculous. Your mother’s expecting you. Us.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I know.” She deliberately flattened her palms on her thighs. “It’s not all about t
he stalker, though he does worry me.”
“He should.” Mitch had to agree. Although neither of them said it, they both knew, with the resources he’d exhibited, the Galway family was on the bastard’s radar whether they went to dinner or not.
“Go back,” she said. “I won’t let the past trip me up this time.”
He held his breath, refusing to ask, refusing to make her share something she clearly wanted to keep buried. She had to want to share those secrets with him.
“You’re different,” she murmured. “I’m different.” She spoke the words over and over as if reciting a meditation. “Thanks for the valiant effort,” she said, smiling a little. “I’ll tell you all the gory details later and we can have a good laugh at my expense.”
He didn’t think he’d be laughing over a story that had nearly induced a panic attack. “Whenever you’re ready to share, I’ll listen,” he replied. This time when he parked he was behind Stephen’s truck. Maybe his parents would have their hands too full with his brooding brother to worry about the guest he hadn’t warned them about.
He knew she didn’t want to give his family the wrong impression, but he took her hand as they walked up the sidewalk to the porch. She still looked a little pale. “We’ll leave before dessert,” he promised in a whisper.
Mitch wasn’t a bit surprised when the front door flew open before he touched the handle. “You’re almost late,” his youngest sister accused.
“Nice to see you too, Jenny.” He caught her in a tight hug until she smacked at his back to get him to let go.
Her eyes lit on Julia. “Who’s this?”
“Let us in and I’ll introduce you.”
In the muted light of the foyer, he took Julia’s coat and made introductions. First to Jenny, then to his siblings, Megan and Andrew, and their respective spouses and children as everyone trickled in at the commotion near the door. “You remember Stephen,” he said at last. “And these are my parents, Samuel and Myra Galway.”
His parents stepped forward and greeted Julia warmly.
“A pleasure to meet all of you,” Julia said. “Mitch claimed I wouldn’t be any imposition.”
“No, no imposition at all,” Myra said as a smile bloomed across her round face. “Come in, come in.” Myra waved a hand to give them room to walk into the house. She poked Jenny in the shoulder. “Go set another place at the table.”
Her astute gaze landed on Mitch next. “This is an interesting surprise,” she whispered as the rest of his family caught up Julia and led her to the family room.
He silently pleaded with his mother to let it go. She hesitated, then stepped back and tipped her head toward the family room. More than a little concerned, he peeked around the corner, ready to charge to Julia’s rescue. But she showed no signs of the earlier anxiety, her smile open and easy as she answered questions as quickly as they were tossed out.
“You’ll help me with drinks.” His mother tugged him along to the kitchen.
He knew better than to argue. As he passed by, he caught Julia’s eye, sending her an encouraging smile. Fifteen minutes later, when his rowdy family had packed around the dining room table, he was relieved she hadn’t run away screaming yet.
He tried to see it all from her perspective and wanted to cringe. Meals and conversation at her apartment and even his house had been quiet, primarily case related. He’d grown up with this disorderly process that bordered on crazy. He was used to hearty meals and loud voices talking over one another as food was passed and devoured.
They’d quickly learned she was an attorney and her chin had only come up a little, daring them to have an opinion when she told them she was with Marburg.
Although his father had raised a curious eyebrow at that, no one challenged her or asked about the Falk case. Mitch exchanged a look with Stephen and realized they’d been warned. He’d have to thank his brother later for smoothing the way. With every conversational topic and rambling tangent, he learned a bit more about Julia. Not about where she’d come from, but who she’d decided to be now.
“She fits in pretty well,” Stephen said as he helped Mitch carry dishes into the kitchen. “Mom likes her.”
“Mom likes a lot of people,” Mitch replied. When Stephen only gave a noncommittal grunt, Mitch changed the subject. “You haven’t had any trouble at the garage?”
“No.” Stephen scowled. “Should I expect some?”
“Doubtful, but stay alert. The guy hassling her is focused on her, but something’s off.” Hearing Julia’s laughter, he leaned over to catch a glimpse of her.
“Your focus, if I had to guess,” Stephen grumbled.
Mitch was about to elbow his brother in the ribs when a thunderous boom sounded, shaking the house. For a split second, they stared at each other and then both of them bolted for the front of the house at the same time. Stephen shot straight for the front door and Mitch took a route through the dining room. His first priority was Julia.
She stood at the window with the rest of his family, staring at a fireball engulfing the hood of his car. He swore when he saw Stephen racing closer to the swelling blaze.
“Call 911!” he ordered. “Mom, take Julia and the others to the basement.” The gun rack was down there and all of the adults knew how to handle the firearms. If the stalker got into the house, he’d have a war on his hands.
Everyone moved at once and Mitch ran back through the kitchen, grabbing the fire extinguisher on the way.
“Give me that one,” his dad snapped.
Mitch obliged. Bursting through the back door, he went for the bigger fire extinguisher his dad kept in the workshop behind the house.
Another explosion sounded as Mitch reached the front of the house. He watched, horrified as Stephen and Samuel were tossed back by the blast. The bed of Stephen’s truck went up fast and came down again in slow motion.
He rushed forward against the fire, focusing his effort on stopping the destruction at Stephen’s truck before it spread in a chain reaction down the street. Behind him, he heard shouts and car engines revving. His family and neighbors were moving cars out of harm’s way. A siren cried from a distance as others came outside to watch the commotion. The crisis was almost over when the first fire truck turned into the street, lights and sirens tearing up the quiet Sunday afternoon.
The firefighters put out the blaze and paramedics checked them all for injuries, taking a few minutes to chat with Mitch, his brothers and their dad before they left.
His dad looked around. “Where did Myra and the girls go?”
“I sent them to the basement,” Mitch replied, thankful they’d stayed there.
Stephen shook his head, his expression grim, while he studied the charred remains of the vehicles. “I’ll call in a tow truck while you deal with that.” He raised his chin toward the police cruiser rolling to a stop at the driveway.
Mitch was about to ask his dad to keep Julia out of it when she stepped out onto the porch. Her eyes wide, she clapped a hand over her mouth as she took in the scene, then she ran straight for him. “Are you hurt?” She looked at Stephen and their dad. “Are any of you hurt?”
“Not a scratch.” Samuel pressed a hand to his hip. “Maybe a bruise or two.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She leveled an accusing glare at Mitch. “I warned you.”
His dad gave him a quizzical glance before shuffling off to hug his wife.
Mitch pulled her aside before Julia said something she might regret. “This isn’t your fault.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “So cars blow up around here after dinner every week?”
“Not every week,” he teased. She wasn’t amused. “You did not cause this.”
“You can’t believe this is unrelated.” She sucked in a breath, her gaze darting over the damaged vehicles. “Your car. Oh, Mitch. Without me, your house, your family would have stayed safe.”
“Hush,” he said, pulling her into a hug and tucking her head to his shoulder. He knew this was t
he work of the stalker. They were on display out here. “We’re all alive and we’re all going to stay that way.”
Mitch and his dad delivered the initial report to the police officers. The officers split up, one taking names and statements from the Galway family, the other canvassing the neighborhood for any witnesses. Myra served coffee and dessert during the interviews, always hospitable to any guests. It was such a mom thing to do and yet Mitch knew it made Julia feel worse.
By the time they were free to go, the burned vehicles had been hauled away to the forensics lab. Julia fell into a tense silence, her hand linked with his, as they rode in the backseat while Samuel drove them to the garage to pick up loaner cars.
He longed to comfort her, to let her vent every crazy theory brewing in her stormy green eyes. He could see her shoulders sagging under the weight of the misplaced guilt and blame she was carrying.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Mitch silently vowed that, one way or another, they would stop the bastard tearing up her life before he destroyed her.
*
Julia never dreamed she’d consider a nightclub safe haven and yet by name and reputation, the Escape was becoming just that. The knotted muscles at the base of her neck loosened as Mitch drove east toward the river rather than back to his house.
Once they were alone, she’d tried to apologize, but he’d cut her off, refusing the notion that she was to blame. It was more than gracious, it was silly. Hopefully, Grant would set him straight, maybe assign her to someone else or...
She slid a glance at the square jaw of Mitch’s strong profile. She didn’t want anyone else. “When you sent me to the basement with your mom I was pissed,” she confessed. “I wanted to be out there, helping you.”
“I had help. Qualified help,” he pointed out. “It helped me more knowing you were safe, out of his sight.”
“Mmm-hmm. Still, I could’ve looked for that damn orange hat while you did your thing.”
“This wasn’t your fault.”
“So you’ve said.” Countless times.
He parked at the far end of the employee lot and turned off the engine of the boring beige compact sedan Stephen had loaned him.
