by Lori Foster
“No.”
Those clipped responses amused him. She could be the prickliest woman ever, but for bizarre reasons, that attitude only drew him more. “Want me to drop back a few feet? I don’t mind trailing behind if you’d prefer to jog alone.”
“If you’re right behind me, I’m not alone!”
“You could pretend,” he offered, his tone good-natured in comparison to hers. When her stride lengthened, he matched it. “Put in your earbuds. You won’t hear me.” But he’d have the nice view of her long legs and firm butt.
Rolling her eyes, she glanced his way. “How’s your hand?”
It was the funniest thing for her to be so annoyed and yet still solicitous. “Nearly good as new.” He held it out to show her. He now had only two small Steri-Strips over the cut, which was almost completely closed.
Looking at his hand, she visually examined it, then nodded. “Good.” She glanced up at him and away, easily going past a large crack in the sidewalk.
He watched her profile. “Your eyes are unusual.”
She frowned behind the glasses and finally said, “I know.”
Testing her, wondering if his hunch could be correct, Nathan said, “Bet they make you easily recognizable.”
She stopped.
Taken by surprise, Nathan went two steps past her and then had to backtrack. By the time he got to her, she was jogging again.
With an exaggerated sigh, he caught up to her again. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?”
“Do you ever concern yourself with what I want?”
Damn. Her reaction had to mean that his suspicions were correct. So who was she afraid of? “I’d very much like to concern myself—”
“Good. Then leave me alone.”
For only a second, her “fuck off” attitude bothered him. But he had good instincts, damn it, and his instincts told him there was a lot going on here. “I used to be SWAT. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” Using the back of her wrist, she brushed a bead of perspiration from her temple. The morning got rapidly more humid and hot. Her hair, now in a fat ponytail to keep it off her neck, bounced behind her, swishing side to side. After a moment, she said, “The town loves you, always bragging on you like they have their own personal hero.”
Nathan knew that, had heard it many times himself. It used to embarrass him, then annoy him. Now he just accepted it, like he accepted the laid-back feel of the town, the occasional crime, the quirky denizens and their sometimes bizarre requests. “My point was that I have resources.”
Brooklin put her head down and picked up the pace.
Trying to outrun her problems? Could be, but regardless, she couldn’t outrun him. “I have no intention of snooping into your past, Brooklin. I just wanted you to know that, if you need something, I could probably help.”
With a deep breath she slowed, her gait now easy, more of a long-legged lope. He could see her thinking, but he had no idea what conclusions she’d drawn.
“You won’t snoop?”
He did his own thinking, trying to find the right words to reassure her. “I have the ability to find out things. Friends and resources most people don’t have. But it wouldn’t be right for me to use those resources without legal reasons. It would feel like... I don’t know. A violation of your privacy. Sort of stalkerish.”
Brooklin’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then she laughed.
“Hey.” He smiled, liking the way she looked when more lighthearted. “A background check is different from jogging. I understand that difference. That’s all I’m saying.”
She was silent for a minute. Then she nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Deciding to press her—again—he said, “Will you have dinner with me on Saturday?”
She laughed again, this time with less sarcasm. “You are the most persistent man.”
“Will you? It doesn’t have to be a romantic date. We could go to Screwy Louie’s. Grab some of Hogan’s famous ribs. Hang out. Talk.” It was the talking that interested him most. Well, and looking at her. Damn, but she was nice to look at.
She nearly shocked him senseless when she said, “Okay.”
He forgot to jog. “Really.”
Two steps past him, she stopped, too. “Why not?”
“Exactly.” Grinning now that he’d gotten his way, Nathan realized they’d circled the block and were in front of Hogan’s house. A woman knocked at his door.
He and Brooklin both looked as Hogan opened the door wearing only jeans. He looked surprised, then stiffly polite.
“Wonder who that is.”
Brooklin elbowed him. “I’m sure it’s none of your business.”
“Hogan and I are friends.”
“And in a small town, everyone notices everything, I guess.”
“That’s about it.” Nathan looked again, saw Hogan finally let the woman in and wondered about it. “It’s odd,” he said, “because Hogan never takes women to his house.”
“Oh?”
“His son is there, and that’s just not something he’d do.” Nathan decided he’d ask Hogan about it later. “I have to go shower for work. How about I get you at seven on Saturday?”
“How about,” Brooklin said, “I meet you there at eight.”
He didn’t want to, but Nathan agreed. One step at a time, he told himself. But after he’d left her, he wondered if she’d show up.
And if she didn’t, then what would he do?
* * *
Hogan had awakened Friday morning earlier than usual, especially considering the night he’d had. With the taste and scent of Violet still on him, he’d had a hell of a time sleeping—and didn’t care. He couldn’t get her out of his thoughts, just as he couldn’t stop smiling.
It was nine in the morning when he peeked into his son’s room. Clothes, pizza boxes, shoes, papers—mess was literally everywhere, over the floor, the bottom of the bed, and on every surface.
God love him, Colt lived like a pig. Hogan could still remember Meg’s endless lecturing to their son. She would threaten, complain, beg, ask, demand, and still Colt would keep his room tidy for no more than a week. So often she’d give up getting him to clean it and would tackle it herself.
It was one of the few memories that didn’t tear at him, and Hogan shook his head. For the most part, he didn’t worry about Colt’s disorderly room. He figured when Colt needed to get it together, he would. Long as he kept the destruction contained to only his room, and not the rest of the house, Hogan was content to let it go.
For the past year, both he and Colt had had bigger fish to fry.
He saw Colt stretched out on the bed, on his stomach, sound asleep in only his boxers. Across the bottom of the bed, Diesel snored, and occasionally his legs would flicker as if he dreamed of racing around the yard.
Hogan couldn’t help but grin. His son’s room was now half the size of the one he’d had in Columbus, but he still had the same amount of mess—with a big furry dog added in.
The note near the coffeepot had said to wake him up at nine, but he looked so sound asleep, Hogan hated to disturb him.
He tapped his knuckles against the door. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”
Diesel lurched up, a bark already forming. He saw it was Hogan, gave him a reproachful look from his dark eyes and flopped back down. Colt only groaned and pulled a pillow over his head.
“Classes start late today?”
A mumble came from beneath the pillow.
“What’s that?”
“My phone died, so I couldn’t set the alarm.” He cocked open one eye. “Thanks for waking me.”
Hogan smiled. “I’ll give you five more minutes.”
“I’m awake,” Colt muttered and flopped onto his back, both eyes closed
again. Diesel shifted and did the same.
“Uh-huh.” Leaving the door open, Hogan headed back for the kitchen and another cup of coffee. He wanted to get his accounting work done so he could get to the diner extra early. He was anxious to finalize some plans with Violet, especially concerning new menus. The current menus, encased in cracked plastic, were old and faded, with ancient font and prices that desperately needed an overhaul.
He’d just sat down at his PC when the knock sounded on the door. Diesel came charging out, always caught between an ecstatic welcome and furious suspicion.
“Down, Diesel.” On his way to answer the door, Hogan yelled down to Colt, “That was your five minutes.”
“Be right there,” came the sleepy reply.
Grinning, Hogan got the dog to sit, opened the door and found his boss—one of his bosses—standing there, a wide smile on her face.
Diesel hated her on sight.
Quickly shrugging off the surprise and hopefully hiding his disconcerted unease, Hogan thought to say, “Ms. Jeffers?”
She laughed at the formality. “Good morning, Hogan. For heaven’s sake, call me Joni.”
Diesel rolled his lips, snarled and tried to sniff her crotch.
“Ack!” She pushed him away. “Down! Get away from me.” She tried to scurry behind Hogan.
He pasted on a formally polite, businesslike expression. “Diesel, out you go.” The dog was reluctant, but he finally went out to the yard to do his business.
Hogan stepped back, but still blocked the entrance. “Sorry about that. We weren’t expecting anyone.”
“I hope you don’t mind.” She swatted dog hair away from her slacks. “I wanted to stop in and see how your work is going.”
What a huge lie. He’d turned in all his reports, all his accounts, every damn day. She had no reason to be here, except for the obvious.
“It’s going well, Joni, thank you. No problems at all.” He didn’t invite her in.
Of course, that didn’t bother Joni.
“I’d love to see your work area.”
He’d bet his last dollar that wasn’t all she wanted to see. “Has there been a problem with my work?”
“No, of course not. In fact, you’re more efficient than anyone else at the office. I’m extremely pleased.”
He’d known his work was top-notch. Nice that she didn’t lie about it. Holding the door a little wider, he indicated the desk in the living room with the shelf behind it. “I work right—”
“Oh, what a charming house.” She stepped in around him.
Shit. Seeing no hope for it, he said with only a modicum of sarcasm, “Come in.”
Her gaze slanted his way, and her lips curled. “Thank you. Do I smell coffee?”
Her hint had the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
More than anything, Hogan wanted a shirt. Joni kept staring at his chest like she planned to make him her next meal. “Sure. I’ll get you a cup. You can make yourself at home in the kitchen and I’ll just go finish getting dressed.”
Her hand closed over his forearm. “Don’t bother on my account.”
The way she licked her lips made him want to bolt.
Then Colt stepped out of his room, stretching, still in his boxers. “Hey, Dad, is there any coffee—” he looked up and saw Joni “—left?”
In the two seconds it took Colt to dive back into his bedroom, Joni’s gaze went all over him in a most inappropriate way.
“Who,” Joni asked, “was that?”
Hogan freed his arm none too gently. “My son, who also didn’t realize we’d have unexpected company this early.” Doubting that Joni had taken note of his clarification that she was, absolutely, unexpected, Hogan walked away without giving her a chance to say anything else. He left the front door open so Diesel could return on his own.
In his bedroom, he yanked on the first shirt he saw and stepped into sneakers without socks.
No way in hell did he want his son alone with that woman.
He and Colt met in the hallway, each stepping out of their rooms at the same time. Colt, now dressed in shorts and a rumpled white T-shirt and carrying other clothes, flashed him an apologetic grin and detoured into the bathroom.
Joni still stood where he’d left her, but now she looked panicked as Diesel returned and, once again, inspected her.
The shower came on.
Make it quick, Colt. His son could prove a welcome buffer this morning. Being sure to stay out of reach, Hogan headed into the kitchen. Patting his thigh, he called the dog to his side, saying, “I’ll get you that coffee.” Then hopefully I’ll get you back out the door.
With other plans clearly in mind, Joni joined him.
Unfortunately, Diesel saw a ray of sunshine coming through the side kitchen door. Apparently deciding Joni wasn’t a real threat, he strode over to plop down, groaned, smacked his chops and went back to sleep.
While Hogan got down another mug, Joni stepped too close. So close, in fact, his elbow almost bumped her boob while he poured.
“Your son is very handsome. How old did you say he is?”
Ignoring her leering tone, Hogan stressed, “He’s seventeen.”
“He looks older, more like a grown man.” She touched Hogan’s arm. “Obviously he got his looks and muscular build from you.”
“He’s taller.” Hogan sipped his coffee and added, “He’s also leaner, but then, he’s still a kid.”
Hair damp, Colt came into the kitchen and, with a smile at Joni, said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t know we had company.” He headed for the fridge.
Again, Joni’s gaze went over him. She murmured, “No problem at all.”
“Colt,” Hogan said, “this is my boss, Ms. Jeffers.”
He said, “Ma’am,” in a ridiculously proper way.
Joni smiled. “Colt.”
Colt dug through the refrigerator and then, standing in the open door, finished off the orange juice straight from the carton.
It was such a kid thing to do, Hogan applauded him for it and didn’t say a word.
Proving he wasn’t a dummy, Colt closed the fridge, crushed the carton and threw it away, then said to Hogan, “Don’t forget, you’re driving me to school this morning.”
“Oh, right,” Hogan said, and he glanced at the clock. “We should leave in two minutes.”
“Just gotta brush my teeth,” Colt said. To Joni, he added, “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Joni stared after him, the look on her face very disturbing. Then she caught herself and said to Hogan, “I thought you were working.”
“I am. It’ll only take me a few minutes to drop him off. Then I’ll be back at it.” For good measure, he added, “I want to finish up the Hardesty file before the end of the day so I won’t be brewing on it over the weekend.” He’d rather brew on Violet.
“I thought we could do breakfast.”
“Ah, sorry. Maybe another time.”
“Dinner, then?”
Had he ever been that pushy with a woman? God, he hoped not. He really needed Diesel to come sniff at her again. “I already made plans.”
Her gaze narrowed as she searched his face, looking for a lie.
But he would be busy. Very busy.
Working with Violet.
“Come back into the office Monday. I think a group meeting is in order.”
Group meetings usually only meant one thing. “New account?”
After sipping her coffee, she nodded, then broke into a huge smile. “Logistics Unlimited liked your presentation.” This time when she clasped his arm, it felt like an all-business, satisfied-boss gesture. “It’s a huge coup for us, Hogan. You did well.”
Satisfaction welled up. No, he wasn’t at the old prestigious firm, but he was making a
difference. He was making his mark.
He was advancing.
Smiling back, he said, “I’ll be there Monday.”
Colt returned, the straps of an enormous backpack slung over one muscular arm, filled with heavy books. “You ready, Dad?”
“Sure.”
Unfortunately, Joni didn’t leave until they did, and she didn’t pull away until he and Colt were in his car.
Colt shoved the backpack to the rear seat and hooked on his seat belt. “Sorry. It was all I could think of.”
“You did great, thanks.” Hogan glanced in the rearview mirror. “I wonder if she’ll follow me.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Colt said. “Talk about work pressure...”
Hogan shook his head. “You could tell—”
“That you weren’t interested? Yeah. I’m not stupid.” He lounged comfortably in his seat, his long legs stretched out. “Plus, you never bring women to the house. Uncle Jason said you don’t want to corrupt me.”
“What? Jason said that?” When had they had that discussion, and why?
“Not exactly that,” Colt said, “but close enough. It’s what he meant. And for the record, I don’t feel corrupted, okay? If you ever want to invite someone over, it’s not a big deal.”
That last of that completely threw Hogan. His son giving him permission to actually date? Not permission for random sex, but to have a relationship?
Because he wasn’t sure what to say or think, Hogan asked a question instead. “How’d that even come up?”
“We were talking about Violet.”
Another staggering thought. “What about her?”
Colt glanced in the side-view mirror. “That lady is waiting.”
Damn. Just as Hogan started to pull away from the curb, Joni finally drove past them, waving.
Colt tapped his fingers on the dash, then gave in to a laugh. “I have another half hour, so do you want to drive around the block or something, just in case she circles around?”
Shit, shit, shit. “Yeah, I probably should.” Instead he drove toward the diner. It was dark inside, no one there. Since he had Colt alone... “I have a question for you.”
“Sure.” Colt nodded in a sage way, put on his serious face and said, “Violet is nicer, hands down.”
