“I’ll just have some tea, thanks.” She opened the fridge and grabbed the pitcher. “You want a beer?”
Normally, he’d say yes, but he needed to keep his wits about him with Kayla around. For one thing, he wanted to uncover some answers. Then there was the other reason, the one where he wanted her with an unexplainable desire. Hard enough keeping his hands to himself sober; booze would make it impossible.
“Tea is fine.”
She passed by with the iced tea pitcher in hand. His kitchen was on the small side, and he took up a lot of space. When she moved around him, her shoulder grazed his back. He stifled a groan. One small touch, from her shoulder no less, and his body burned with hunger.
Good call on skipping the booze. Things were already hard enough as it was.
“Stew’s on.” He brought the steaming pot over to the table. Setting it on the potholder he laid out earlier, he grabbed the bowls and filled them. “Hope you like it.”
She took a bite. Her eyes closed and another one of those sexy moans escaped. Good lord, this woman would be the death of him.
“Oh. My. Goodness. This is amazing.” She smiled.
“Glad you like it.”
“No, seriously. I want to call up your dad right now and thank him for creating this recipe, it’s that good.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that, but unfortunately, he passed.” The dull ache he got in his chest whenever he thought of his father caused him to glance down at the dinner. No matter how much time passed, it always hurt, but remembering the good things—like his dad making stew—made him smile.
Her spoon paused on the way to her mouth, smile faltering. “Oh, Ryder. I’m sorry.”
He shifted in his seat. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago.”
“How old were you when he died?”
“Sixteen.” He pushed his stew around in the bowl, watching the potatoes and corn circle each other, but seeing his dad’s face in his mind. “He died two weeks before my seventeenth birthday.”
“How awful.”
Yeah, it had been. His dad had been talking all month long about Ryder’s “special day.” The old man had something really big planned. Later, his mother told him it had been a trip to Maine to hike the Appalachian Trail. Something the two had been talking about for years, but his father said he needed to be old enough to handle it. It was supposed to be his rite of passage, his journey into manhood…
Instead, some jackass had plowed head first into his dad’s car. He had become a man that day…by necessity.
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Her words were soft, spoken with empathy, not pity.
“I don’t mind.” He shook his head. Most people were curious about death, human nature he guessed, but she sounded genuinely concerned. Still, it wasn’t easy to talk about. Pushing his dinner around, he spoke quickly, as if speed would keep the pain at bay. “He got hit by a drunk driver on the way home from work. Guy blew a one point nine. Walked away without a scratch. EMT said my dad died on impact.”
“That’s so unfair.”
He looked up and saw tears shining in her eyes. Tears for him, for his family, from a woman he barely knew.
“Yeah.” He learned that day life was rarely fair. “The guy got fifteen years for vehicular homicide.”
“Doesn’t seem long enough to me.”
He agreed. “The driver had four previous DUIs. He shouldn’t have even had a license.” His grip tightened on his spoon.
“For heaven’s sake, why did he?”
Ryder shrugged, but the motion belied the anger he still felt. “Slipped through the cracks I guess.”
Her gaze softened and the corner of her lips turned up in small smile. “Is that why you went into law enforcement? To make sure the bad guys are kept off the streets?”
He nodded. “Yeah. My father’s death was a turning point in my life. It was the reason my sister decided to get into law, too. She’s a prosecutor. Mom always said I catch ’em and Julie makes sure to lock ’em up.”
Kayla’s smile tightened at that, but she quickly covered it with another question. “And where’s your mom now?”
“She passed away three years ago. Cancer.” He shoveled a spoonful of food into his mouth, as if stuffing his face could fill the hole in his heart. It started with his father and only grew bigger when his mother passed.
A stricken look passed over her face. Her hand grasped his tightly, and she squeezed. “I’m sorry. To lose both your parents? That’s hard. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
He enjoyed the feel of her soft, delicate hand in his large, rough one. “I’m sorry I keep bringing the dinner conversation down with my tales of family loss.” He stroked the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. “I hope I didn’t spoil your appetite.”
She gave him a sad smile. “You didn’t spoil anything. But if you’d like to switch to a happier topic, I’m okay with that.”
Yes please. Talking about his parents’ passing was not his favorite subject.
He laughed. “You got it.”
She released his hand, and he immediately felt the loss. This woman was really twisting him in knots.
“A happier topic, huh? Well, since you can’t tell me about your family…”
She shrugged, suddenly very interested in her soup.
That’s right, sweetheart. Keep up your silly, forgetful game. I’ll uncover your secrets soon enough. He always did.
“Guess we’ll have to discuss the warm, balmy weather outside and which pumps go best with snow banks.”
She laughed, as he intended.
They spent the rest of dinner discussing trivial things like weather, sports, and television shows. He didn’t call her on the fact she could remember her favorite late night talk show host, but couldn’t remember her name. Every bit of information he gleaned from her, he stored away for future dissection. She would slip up at some point. Everyone did.
After the way she’d sympathized over his parents, he felt a little guilty about being so sneaky. He could feel her heartbreak for him. Humbling for a stranger to show so much compassion. Made him feel like an ass for digging into her past without her realizing it. But, since she refused to tell him anything, he had to start somewhere.
Over the course of the meal, she revealed she loved Fallon over Letterman and the Bears over the Packers. The former gave him nothing, but the latter proved interesting. He wasn’t a huge sports fan, but even he knew of the Bears versus Packers rivalry. Her fervor for the Bears pointed to her having a connection to Illinois. Most likely Chicago or nearby. By the end of dinner, he felt he had a solid lead to go on.
Kayla insisted on doing the dishes again. He agreed, only so long as he helped.
They washed and dried in perfect sync. It was strange. Almost like they had been performing this task for years. He really needed to discover who this woman was before things got out of hand.
“Thank you, Ryder.” She dried her hands on a kitchen towel. “For everything.”
He narrowed his eyes. Now, why did that sound like a goodbye?
“You’re a good man. I’m sure your parents would have been proud.” Stretching up on her toes, she placed a soft, too brief kiss right smack on his lips. Then she walked away.
Not until he heard the bedroom door close did he realize what just happened. Kayla had kissed him, and not a “thank you” kiss—that was a goodbye kiss.
Son of a bitch.
She was planning on sneaking out in the middle of the night. He would bet the farm on it, if he had a farm.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t finished with Ms. “I Have Amnesia” Kayla. Not by a long shot. If she thought she could give him the slip, she had another thing coming.
Shutting off the lights, Ryder went to the living room and sat in the dark. He’d done a stake out or two in his day. Waiting for Kayla to sneak away would be no sweat. He’d tried asking her, coaxing her, even tried a little trickery. Good cop
wasn’t working.
He’d wait, sure it wouldn’t be long.
A smile curved his lips as he remembered her soft kiss. It had been a goodbye, true, but there had also been desire behind it. He saw it in those incredible hazel eyes. Felt it in the rapid beat of her pulse. She felt this strange attraction, same as him. He could use that to his advantage.
Good cop wasn’t working? Fine. He grinned with anticipation. Then he’d have to bring out bad cop.
And he could be very, very bad.
Chapter 6
The clock on the dresser displayed a red glowing twelve. Midnight. Five hours had passed since she shut herself away in the guest room.
Ryder should be asleep by now.
Kayla threw off the covers. Guilt prickled as she grabbed the bag she’d stashed under the bed. Normally, she would never take something that didn’t belong to her, but these were extenuating circumstances. When she saw the brown leather backpack in the closet while replacing the slippers earlier, she didn’t hesitate. She couldn’t keep running in dirty slacks, a T-shirt, and her pumps.
So, she’d taken advantage of Ryder—and by extension, his sister’s—kindness and filled the bag with a few spare shirts, two pairs of jeans, and half a dozen socks. She also borrowed a pair of boots. Julie Ryder’s feet were a smidge smaller than hers, but cramped warm feet beat out frozen ones any day.
Her coat hung on a rack by the door. She’d seen it earlier at dinner.
Thinking of dinner reminded her of Ryder’s candid confession about the death of his parents. Her heart broke for him when he spoke of them. Having never known hers, she always imagined what it would be like to have a loving mother and father. Every Christmas as a child, she asked Santa for parents to love and protect her. It seemed so unfair for everyone else to have them. Why not her?
After hearing about Ryder’s father, though, she wondered if she was better off. To have a father who loved you and then lose him to such a horrible tragedy must have been awful. Then to lose your mother to such a terrible disease, it seemed almost too cruel. Maybe she’d been better off not knowing her parents. With no family, she’d had no one to lose.
Except Jen.
Tears burned her eyes, and she let them fall. A sob threatened to break free, but she choked it back—she couldn’t risk waking Ryder. But flashes of Jen’s lifeless body kept playing in her memory like a macabre horror movie.
Blood, so much blood everywhere.
She closed her eyes, but that made the images sharpen in her mind. Tremors racked her body, shaking her so hard her teeth rattled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she breathed in deep, pushing for control. No time to fall apart now; she had to press on. Dealing with the loss of her best friend would have to wait.
When Ryder bared his family tragedy at dinner, she wanted to do more. Take him in her arms. Comfort him. Ease his pain, because the pain was still there. She saw it in those expressive, deep brown eyes. But she hadn’t done any of those things. If she had done more than touch his hand, she knew she would have been lost. Jen had been her family. Now, she was gone, and Kayla felt as if a piece of her was missing, something she could never replace or find again. Yes, she would definitely say losing someone you loved hurt worse than wishing for someone you never knew.
It had taken all her willpower to keep her goodbye kiss light and soft when what she really wanted to do was toss him to the ground, rip off his clothes, and spend the entire night making love to him. That would have been a huge mistake, and she couldn’t afford any mistakes right now. So, the kiss had been gentle and brief. Maybe someday, when she figured a way out of this mess, she could come back, see if this crazy thing she felt for him went anywhere.
A nice dream, Kayla, but highly improbable.
Slinging the backpack over her shoulder, she very quietly opened the bedroom door. She half-expected it to squeak and give her away like some cheesy horror movie. It didn’t.
After a quick glance around, she crept out of the room and down the hallway. She wished she could leave a note, but she didn’t dare. Not only did she not want to leave a trail, but she also didn’t want Ryder to get involved in her mess. He might be the sheriff, but Kayla was starting to believe he was one of the good guys. Not a crooked cop like David. Ryder was kind, caring, and ethical. He was the real deal.
The thick hallway runner muted her bootsteps as she made her way toward the front door. Her red winter coat still hung on the hook where she’d seen it earlier.
Almost free.
Dueling emotions racked her body—the need to leave warred with the desire to stay.
“Going somewhere?”
Kayla screamed, whirling around in attack mode. Her fists hit a hard, solid chest, and she shoved.
He found me! David found me, and now he’s going to kill me, too.
All her terrified mind could think was to fight. She punched with all her might, but two very strong hands grasped her wrists and pulled, twisting her until her back slammed flat against her assailant’s chest.
“Calm down you fool woman. It’s me.”
She stopped struggling. “Ryder?”
“Who the hell else did you think it would be?”
His voice grumbled, sending strange vibrations through her body. His arm brushed against her cheek as he reached beyond her and flipped on the light. She squinted against the brightness filling the room.
Though her pulse still pounded in her ears, embarrassment replaced fear. “What in the world are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?”
“No.” The single word was a low growl in her ear. “I was waiting to catch you sneaking away.”
She tipped her head to the side, caught red-handed; time to bluff her way out. “I wasn’t sneaking out.”
One dark eyebrow rose in disbelief, but he didn’t let her go.
“I was thirsty.”
“You always need a backpack full of stolen clothes and a winter parka for a glass of water, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart?
“I was going to return them,” she mumbled, turning her face away to tuck her chin into her chest. “As soon as I get everything figured out.”
His warm breath fanned over the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
“What’s to figure? Thought you didn’t remember anything.”
Shoot! She knew she’d slip up if she stayed long enough. His fault. He could have just let her leave.
“It’s better if you don’t know.” She shook her head, fighting back tears.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
Ryder was so kind, so good. No way would she drag him into her mess. She was a wanted woman. He was the sheriff. If she stayed here, told him what happened, there were two outcomes. One—he would hand her over. Not acceptable. Or, two—he would try to help her and jeopardize his job, his freedom, and his life for her, a complete stranger. Also not acceptable.
“I can’t drag you into my problems. Just let me go.”
Long strands of his silky, dark hair fell over her shoulder as he leaned his head against hers and…
Did he brush his lips against my ear?
“I can’t do that, Kayla. I’m the sheriff. It’s my job to help people in trouble, and, sweetheart, from what I can see, you are in a big pile of it.”
There he went with the sweetheart stuff again. She had no idea what that was all about, but he wasn’t wrong. She was in a big pile of trouble. A landfill.
“Please, let me help you.”
She wanted to. More than anything, she wanted to turn around, tell this strong, sweet man all her troubles and let him make them disappear. But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair or safe. David was crazy. He would come looking for her, personally. If he found out Ryder helped her, there was no telling what he would do to keep his secret.
No, she had to solve this problem on her own. “It’s not safe.”
“I’m the sheriff of this town. It’s my job to handle dangerous situations.”<
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Still pinned against his chest, she felt the hard edges of his muscles, such a contrast to his comforting hold. The strong beat of his heart against her back settled her own into a synchronized rhythm.
Her breath caught in her throat, but not from fear this time. “But I’m not a part of this town. You have no obligation to help me. You don’t even know me.”
Silence.
Just when she thought she’d gotten through to him, that he was going to let her leave, his voice came as a soft, sensual caress. Dark, like chocolate, and just as tempting.
“I know it’s crazy, but there’s a part of me that feels like I’ve known you forever. Like I’ve been waiting for you. There’s something between us, don’t deny it. I know you feel it, too.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Yes, she did feel it. She hadn’t realized he did. It was crazy and unexpected, but it was there. A connection apparently neither could deny. It terrified her even as it thrilled her. Unfortunately, this whole thing made her situation that much harder.
“Talk to me, Kayla,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me help you.”
Whatever powers that be—God, the Universe, or Aliens—that had led her to this man, they knew there was a reason she needed to meet him now, at this point in her life.
Maybe he wouldn’t turn her in. Maybe he would be the one to help her. David may be a cop…but so was Ryder. Could he help her find evidence to prove her innocence? That was his job, after all, solving crimes. Maybe she could trust him. Trust this insane feeling she got whenever he was near.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, and a giant leap of faith, she stepped out of his arms and turned, staring directly into those intelligent, warm eyes. “My name is Kayla Jenkins, and I’m wanted by the Chicago Police Department for the murder of my roommate, Jennifer Wright.”
Chapter 7
Of all the things she could have said, wanted for murder would have been the last guess on Ryder’s list. He knew she was in trouble, but he figured some small thing like petty theft or running from an ex. Never in a million years would he have pegged sweet, innocent looking Kayla as a murderer.
Love on the Risky Side Page 4
