Deadly Secrets

by Ann Christopher

  He blinked, putting most of his intensity on lockdown. “Not always, no.”

  She nodded, still working on regulating her breath.

  “Why not? As a medical professional, I thought you’d want everyone’s BMI to be as low as possible.”

  He opened his mouth and took great care with his words. “Good health is about more than a number on a scale.”

  “Well, thank God,” she cried. “Finally, the voice of reason. Chocolate cake for everyone!”

  Kerry didn’t laugh this time. If anything, he looked troubled.

  Almost as troubled as she felt in that awkward moment.

  She wanted to tell him it was a joke, but her thoughts suddenly felt sluggish and dull.

  And it was far too much to hope for two sightings of his smile inside five minutes. Best to let that foolish hope go.

  “Want some music?” She hastily picked up her phone and went to her music library when the silence became excruciating and he showed every sign of lapsing into more moodiness. He was probably regretting his kind words. Probably thinking, Yeah, her fat ass needs to be on that treadmill in the guest bedroom for two hours every day. “Since you’re the honored guest, you can choose. Don’t screw it up, though. On a summer night like this, I recommend Adele. Actually, I recommend Adele for any occasion. Or Frankie Beverly and Maze could work.”

  When he didn’t answer, she glanced up.

  And discovered him staring again, head cocked with unmistakable disbelief.

  “You like Frankie Beverly?” he asked.

  “Who doesn’t love ‘Silky Soul’?”

  Sudden respect filled his eyes. “Let’s hear what those Bose speakers can do.”

  “Brace yourself,” she said, hitting play.

  He muttered something that sounded like, “Now you tell me.”

  “What’s that?” She turned the music down.

  He hastily shook his head. “I, ah…” Shaky laugh. “I was just saying that if we get to watch a movie after dinner, you’ve got yourself a roommate. For life.”

  She grinned. “You’ve had enough excitement for your first day out of the hospital. You’ll be too tired.”

  “Won’t.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What are you in the mood for?”

  “The Godfather? Goodfellas? Scarface? American Gangster?”

  What the—?

  She gawked at him. His expression was full of such limpid innocence that it took her a long couple beats to realize he was kidding.

  “Don’t even,” she said, erupting in relieved laughter that intensified when she saw the banked laughter in his eyes. “We’re putting you on a gangster twelve-step program. Starting now.”

  “How about Young Frankenstein? It’s one of my favorites.”

  “That, I can do. Oh, but what about your incision? Don’t want you to laugh too much and hurt yourself, do we?”

  “Are you kidding me?” he asked quietly, holding her gaze with heavy-lidded eyes. “I’ve never been better.”

  Another of those tongue-tied moments overtook her, so she focused on chopping veggies before she said or did something stupid. Because her mind was playing tricks on her and making her think he was feeling a spark of chemistry for her, too.

  Stupid, Jayne. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  She’d been plus-sized for years. Why was it still so hard to remember that guys like Kerry (and Garciaparra, for that matter)—hot, sexy guys who could make women cream with just a hint of a smoldering glance—never went for girls like her? Oh, sure, they might experiment a little, maybe play with her big boobs and ass for a night or two, but she was way too old to be a one-off for any man.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  On top of the whole criminal thing, Kerry was undoubtedly also a player. A man who looked like that was, by default, a player. He probably went through women the way she went through potato chips. And here she was, sorely tempted to make goo-goo eyes at him?

  It was like she’d become addicted to unsuitability. As if she wanted to see how many red flags she could ignore. If she discovered, say, that he was also a pedophile and vampire who clubbed baby seals for fur coats, she’d probably propose before dessert.

  Don’t be a fool, Jayne.

  She chopped the carrots with gusto. Tried to keep a lid on her simmering attraction to Kerry Randolph and remember that the two of them were merely accidental visitors in each other’s lives for a night or two.

  Kerry Randolph was not for her, for a million different important reasons.

  Could never be for her.

  She risked a glance over at him and discovered that he’d drifted off to sleep. His face, as smooth and untroubled as a newborn’s, begged to be touched. Her fingers curled with the impulse.

  Thank God he’d never know how the sight of him made her heart leap.

  But really, what was the big deal? She felt an attraction. So what? Any heterosexual woman would. Her reactions were all normal and healthy given her current single status. No sex for the last several months had done this to her. She was a little out of sorts. That was all.

  He would be forever gone from her life soon, she reminded herself, ignoring the sweet ache inside her.

  Gone soon. And that was absolutely for the best.

  21

  “You still awake over there?” Jayne asked a few hours later, clicking on the lamp when the credits rolled.

  You bet your ass he was.

  The first non-hospitalized night of the rest of his life? He hadn’t missed a second of it. Not the delicious dinner, which included two of his summer faves in addition to the grilled corn—grilled salmon and strawberry shortcake. Not the mellow music or the funny movie. Not the freedom of chilling out without wondering when his unhinged boss was going to snap his fingers and demand some sadistic act of loyalty.

  Most of all, he’d savored Jayne’s company.

  “Still awake.” He gingerly shifted his weight. Pain streaked up his side. Maybe sitting in one position for so long hadn’t been the brightest idea he ever had. It was hard not to wince, but he didn’t want to worry Jayne or kill the mood. Nor, come to think of it, did he want to go to bed. “Want to make it a double feature? What about High Anxiety?”

  “No way.” Laughing, she stood and folded her lap blanket. “You’ve had enough excitement for today. And it’s a work night for some of us, in case you forgot.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I don’t think you are sorry, sir.”

  “You’re right.” He paused and then, what the hell, confessed a little of what he was feeling. “I have a lot of lost time to make up for. I don’t want to waste it, you know?”

  “I do know. I guess I was just…”

  “What?”

  “Forget it. Now’s not the time.”

  Like he could forget it with that big shadow hovering over her face.

  “Jayne. I’m not letting it go. So spit it out so we can move on.”

  Long hesitation from Jayne, the kind that made dread settle in his belly.

  “You wanted me to let you die.” She hesitated. Gathered up her words and arranged them just right. “That was almost worse than anything else that night. Am I supposed to forget that happened? Are you over it? Or are you officially suicidal? What can I do if you are?”

  Yeah, okay. That.

  “Ah…” he said, scratching the top of his head to buy time. “Wow. Not sure where to start.”

  “Are you suicidal?” she asked. “Start there.”

  “No,” he said, too lightly.

  Dubious look from Jayne. “You could’ve fooled me.”

  He hesitated, coherent thought playing hide and seek with him. What to tell her? He probably didn’t need to mention that he’d considered offing himself several times over the last couple years, most notably after Kareem shot Yogi to death in front of him. Kerry had seriously wanted to drive his car into one of the overpass pillars on the interstate.

  But his innate coward had won the day.
<
br />   As it usually did.

  “The other night,” he said slowly, “I thought I was dead for sure. And if I wasn’t, I figured Kareem would show up again and finish me off eventually. So why not die and get the fear over with once and for all?”

  She turned her head away, blinking back tears.

  “But today, I’m alive and Kareem’s dead. I still have my license, so I can practice again. Your office isn’t going to prosecute me.” He shook his head, trying to shake the lingering disbelief. “Now I’ve got more to live for than I’ve ever had before.”

  Jayne studied him long and hard, eyes narrowed. “I hope you mean that.”

  “I do mean it.”

  The beginnings of a relieved smile softened her mouth.

  “Good. Because I’m responsible for you now, and I can’t have you screwing things up with self-destructive behavior.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I saved your life,” she reminded him. “I’m responsible for you now. And I’m an excellent life manager.”

  He liked the idea of Jayne overseeing his life. Liked the thought of her in his corner.

  “Yeah? Guess this is my lucky day.”

  “I guess it is.” She hesitated, her expression clouding over again. “Tell me if I’m being too nosy…”

  Although he and nosy people typically got along like bleach and ammonia, he was surprised to discover that he had no desire to shut her down or end this conversation, no matter where it might go next.

  “You’ve earned the right,” he assured her. “As my life manager.”

  Quick grin from Jayne.

  Quick answering thud from his heart.

  “So are you…safe?” she asked, sobering.

  Wasn’t that a damn good question?

  He opened his mouth.

  Persistent fears trapped everything inside.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Oh.” She nodded, her beautiful brown skin going pale before his eyes. “Okay.”

  In a troubling sign of how spending time with this woman was beginning to fuck with his head, he felt a thrill of pleasure at her open concern, quickly followed by a protective instinct that demanded he reassure her.

  “Look, Jayne. Kareem’s dead. His organization is dead. I don’t know of anyone who’d trouble himself to come after me with him gone.” He tried to smile. Tried to act like his safety was Monopoly money with no bearing on real life. “You said it. I was like Tom Hagen from The Godfather.”

  “Just the consigliere?”

  “Yeah. I was there for a few strategic ideas and holding Kareem’s hand so he could feel like he had a friend.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself, anyway. Maybe it’s a lie, but I can’t live in hiding again. I can’t keep looking over my shoulder. Tom Hagen is all I’ve got.”

  “I get it.” She forced a smile. “Tom Hagen was always my favorite character, anyway.”

  “Now that is a lie.”

  “Yeah. It’s all about Michael.” She laughed. “So what’re you doing about a job?”

  “You sure you don’t want to specify a legal job?” he asked, arrested by her smile.

  For the billionth time since he arrived tonight.

  He stared at her, his thoughts churning like the water running off Niagara Falls.

  What was that like, going through life relaxed and easy, with light shining on your face and the freedom to smile or laugh without waiting for the hammer to fall on your head every second? Was that something he could learn now that Kareem was gone? Or was it something special that Jayne had been born with and would remain forever inaccessible to him?

  Had she always been this gorgeous? This intriguing?

  Why couldn’t he shake the growing feeling that he’d only glimpsed the tip of the iceberg with her?

  “Do me a favor.” Her smile faded. “Stop kicking yourself about your past. As far as I’m concerned, you’re on Day One of your second half. The first half doesn’t have to hang around in the shadows all the time.”

  Sounded good to him. Good enough to make hope swell deep inside. He’d begun to feel it in the last couple days, yeah, but it was as strange and frightening as it was wonderful. Hopeless was so much more familiar. That was something he dealt with just fine.

  Why dabble in hope?

  All it signified was one more thing life could snatch away the second you let your guard down.

  “I’m not sure it’s that easy, Jayne,” he said.

  “It’s exactly that easy. Because you’re going to do something better this time. I have complete faith in you.”

  Complete faith in you.

  Now there was a phrase that set off a wave of low-key panic inside him.

  As did the steady warmth in her expression.

  “Is that wise?”

  “Hell yeah.” She held his gaze, unblinking. “You’re a sure thing. Only a fool would suffer the way you suffered the other night and then run his life off into a ditch again. And you may have been misguided in the past, but you’re not a fool. Are you?”

  Wow. What a gift. He didn’t want to let himself down, true, but man. He really didn’t want to do anything that could wipe that look off Jayne’s face.

  That being the case, there was only one answer he could give.

  “No,” he said quietly. “I’m not a fool.”

  Crisp nod from Jayne. “Good.”

  So…okay.

  That was that. It was late. They’d reached an accord. Time to call it a night.

  If only he could look away from those amazing brown eyes and stop wondering those persistent thoughts.

  What kind of person was this?

  Where had she come from?

  Were there more out there like her, maybe in some forgotten tribe somewhere, or was she the only one?

  Her smile slowly faded.

  “So,” she said when the silence got too long and his stare probably way too intense. Lowering her gaze, she smoothed her skirt and stood. But not before he realized that she was blushing again. “I’d better get you your medicine, right? Some nurse I am.”

  She hurried off to the kitchen.

  His thoughts turned to his indebtedness. How he’d never be able to repay her for saving his life, which anyone would have done, or for giving him a place to stay, which he was beginning to suspect only she would have done. He thought about how nice it was at her apartment. How relaxed he felt.

  Then it hit him: she knew everything about him, yet she was a complete mystery to him.

  Worse, his chances of learning anything about her were dwindling by the second.

  The realization made his gut knot.

  “Busy day tomorrow?” he asked.

  “They’re all busy. Court all morning, meetings all afternoon.” She made a show of striking a pose and smoothing her hair, reminding him of Mariah Carey. “You know how that goes, darling. I’m a very important person.”

  “Clearly,” he said, liking the way her dimples deepened when she joked with him. “Do they let you eat lunch?”

  “Yeah. I try to sneak off to the wisteria gardens near Procter & Gamble most days. Decompress a little.”

  He knew the place. A nice little downtown oasis. Leafy, green and serene.

  “What else do you do for decompression?”

  Rueful shrug as she came back and gave him his meds.

  “That’s about it, sadly. Unless you count extra-long showers at the end of the day. Oh, and I rock-climb a little. Other than that? I’m all about the career.”

  “You’re unbalanced.”

  Another burst of her bright laughter made his pulse cartwheel. He realized he was playing for them, seeing how many he could collect.

  “Oh, and I’m a world-class snacker.” She swept her hands down her body with a flourish, like a runway model showing off some designer dress. “That’s my real hobby—”

  “Don’t,” he said sharply.

  Her smile froze. “Don’t what?”

  Toda
y hadn’t been the best time in the world for him to notice that a) Jayne was a beautiful woman with a sexy-ass body; and b) he had zero tolerance for anyone—including Jayne herself—making fun of her.

  Yet there it was, laid out in front of him, as avoidable as a category five hurricane barreling his way. She was physically nothing like Kira, who’d always been so slender, almost ethereal, and the difference couldn’t be more intriguing.

  Jayne was a bombshell.

  He shifted uncomfortably, trying to dial it back before he said or did the wrong thing.

  Like reach for her.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. If you’d feel better losing weight, great. If not, great. Either way…”

  He trailed off, the unsaid words (you’re sexy and gorgeous; own it) clogging his throat and making his skin hot. This was Jayne, man. Jayne. Why hadn’t he noticed any of this before?

  “Either way what?” she asked, a troubled note in her voice.

  “Either way…it’s good.”

  She stared at him, searching for God knew what, her color high and her eyes bright.

  He held her gaze, equally determined to give nothing away.

  Then she blinked, and it was over.

  All except the lingering sizzle in the air.

  “Well.” She smoothed her hair with a fidgety hand. “You must be tired.”

  “Yep,” he lied, more fully awake than he’d been in a long time. Years, maybe.

  “I won’t wake you up in the morning. I leave about seven fifteen and you need your rest. Okay?”

  He wasn’t in love with the idea, no.

  “Okay,” he said sourly.

  “But I already put oatmeal in the Crock-Pot, so that’ll be ready for breakfast. And there are dinner leftovers in the fridge for lunch, and I was thinking maybe we’d order pizza for dinner tomorrow. Sound good?”

  Tomorrow.

  They’d talked about him staying for a couple nights, until he was up and running again.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sounds great.”

  “Okay.” She turned off the lamp and stood. “I’ll walk you back. Ready?”

  No, he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want the night to end, didn’t want to start moving and set off another wave of pain—and really didn’t want her to see how weak he was at the moment. But he put his game face on and scooted to the edge of the sofa.