Jermy, Marie - Together Forever [The Andersons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Marie Jermy

  Jessica needed him. Needed his help. And as her friend, because that’s all they could ever be—well, that’s what he firmly kept telling himself—he pledged he would do everything possible to keep her in good health.

  So what the hell was he doing in a bar drinking?

  * * * *

  Jessica woke when her nose twitched at the dreamy cinnamon and apple smells wafting through the wide-open bedroom door.

  With a loud yawn and an equally loud, rumbling stomach, she bounded from the bed and promptly fell flat on her face. She cursed and glared at the reason for her fall. It was Ross’s backpack lying on an unrolled foam camper’s mattress.

  Her scowl turned into a smile. At some point during the night, after she had finally drifted off, Ross must have crept into the bedroom and slept beside her, albeit on the floor. She would have preferred him on the bed, in her arms, but hey, it was a start.

  A small, box-like lump in the side pocket of the backpack caught Jessica’s attention. Curious, she opened the flap and pulled the object free. It was a dark-blue, velvet-covered box. She flipped the lid, gasping at the diamond and sapphire ring nestled inside. Oh, boy! An engagement ring.

  And a perfect fit, she thought as she slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand. Uh-oh. Maybe too perfect a fit. She tugged on the band, stopping the flow of blood in the process. Not exactly a good start in gaining Ross’s trust, especially if he were to walk into the room to find she’d been going through his possessions.

  She tugged harder, but the ring remained firmly fixed. Oh, boy, Ross was going to kill her for sure. With a silent prayer, she put her finger in her mouth, licked the ring with all the saliva she could muster, then took it out and tugged as hard as she could without pulling her finger from its socket. Thankfully, somebody upstairs answered her prayer and the ring popped off. She gave a huge sigh of relief.

  Hearing movement in the kitchen, Jessica placed the ring back in its box and returned it to the pocket. Then, quickly dressing in the clothes Ross had bought for her, she went through to the kitchen, where Ross stood at the stove, pouring batter into a frying pan.

  “Sleep well, Jessica?” he asked without turning.

  “Not really,” she replied, going all gooey at the use of her full Christian name. Didn’t he know how sensual it sounded coming from his equally sensual mouth? “I ache all over. But the worst ache is the one inside me. And you’re the only cure.”

  “Tough. You’ve had your chance with me. There’s aspirin in the cupboard over there.” His back still to her, he jerked his thumb in the direction of said cupboard.

  She ignored his advice and took a stool at the small breakfast bar, watching his shoulder muscles flexing under the sleeveless, black T-shirt he wore as he flipped and caught pancakes. Yummy. His ass in the gray sweats looked yummy, too. “You were a fielder on the baseball team at high school.”

  “Wasn’t into baseball.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. Talk about stiff. Well, she knew how to loosen him up. “Ross, will you turn around and look at me?” He did as requested. Slowly. With the way his eyes bugged and his loud intake of air, she knew he’d loosened up. And all because, even if she did say so herself, she looked like a million dollars. “I know I said it last night, but once again, thank you for these lovely clothes. They fit perfectly. Including the bra,” she added, wickedly lifting the top to show him exactly how perfect a fit the bra was.

  “Take your clothes off!”

  “You’ve got it,” she purred.

  “Ah, no, I mean, um…I mean, change into the ones I collected from your apartment last night.” He gestured to a backpack by the refrigerator, which she recognized as hers.

  “You went to my apartment?” she asked, slightly taken aback. “Did you get the BlackBerry?”

  “No. Rafferty decided to put in an appearance. Scared the crap out of me.”

  She raised an eyebrow. She’d never known Ross to be afraid of anything. He had more balls than what were racked at the start of a pool game. “What? How?”

  “Oh, um, never mind. I lied to him about why I was there. There’s something about him that I don’t trust. So since I don’t want to arouse his suspicions, and because he’s expecting to see you in different clothes, I want you to change.”

  “What about Harknett’s BlackBerry? Shall we get it first or afterward?”

  “No. There’s no we. I’ll see you safely to the station, then I’ll go and get it while you’re with Rafferty, giving your statement. I’ve already written mine. Last night when I got back from yours.”

  “What if he asks where you are?”

  Ross was silent while he dished the pancakes onto two plates, then after handing her one, he parked himself on the stool beside her. “Tell him anything. Lie. You’re good at that.” He ignored her dirty look. “While you’re at it, see if you can get him to tell you his life story. He’s not from New York, the accent’s not right. Chicago, perhaps.”

  “And how does one propose I do that?”

  “Bat your eyelashes and come on to him. You’re good at that, too.” He cursed softly as he rubbed a hand over his shaven face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t get a very good night’s sleep.”

  “Worried about little ol’ me?” she inquired, her tone breathy, her eyes half-closed. His eyes narrowed into slits. Uh-oh. Not a smart move, she scolded herself.

  “It may have escaped you attention, but somebody wants you dead. So, yes, dammit, I am worried. Worried that you’ll do something stupid. Like bury your head in the sand and hope it’ll go away. Well, I’ve got news for you, Jessica. It’s not gonna go away. Not ever! Not until I catch the bastard and send him on a one-way trip to the cemetery!”

  That said, Ross hurled his plate at the wall and stalked from the kitchen.

  She should have been indignant, angry, and yet, she wasn’t. Ross had a point. Somebody wanted her dead. As for burying her head in the sand—not that she thought Ross was aware of her financial situation—but she’d already begun to tackle her debts. While Ross had been in Silver Creek, she’d contacted the bank and various other companies she owed money to and arranged to pay back what she could afford each month. She’d also found a buyer for her Mini—her baby, the one thing she’d vowed never to part with—but accepting her financial situation necessitated its sale.

  The sweet smell of cinnamon and apple too tempting to resist any longer, Jessica greedily ate the pancakes, deciding they were the best she’d ever tasted. Too bad Ross had thrown his at the wall. Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she hopped off the stool and went over to the backpack. She grimaced as she removed the clothes from within. Her least favorite dress and shoes.

  She again grimaced, this time at the white bra and panties. Actually, they weren’t white at all but a dingy gray from the amount of times she had washed them. She should have thrown them away ages ago, but with so many things going on in her life she’d forgotten. Talk about boring, conservative, and so not sexy. What had Ross been thinking? Suddenly, it occurred to her exactly what he’d been thinking. Well, she had news for him, too. A sly look crossed her face as she quickly changed, the figure-hugging material of the dress in no way mistaking she was naked underneath. “Oh, Ross?” she called out.

  “In the bedroom.”

  “You decent? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” She smiled at his loud snort as she entered. Smart, yet casual in blue jeans and a white Oxford shirt, Ross stood before the full-length mirror on the open wardrobe door performing the manly task of knotting a tie, the color of which matched his eyes to perfection. Yummy, yummy.

  Catching and holding his gaze in the mirror, she couldn’t fail to notice the naked hunger burning within his eyes before they dulled over and he closed the wardrobe door and walked from the room. With a sigh, she picked up the gray sweats lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. A letter fell out of one of the pockets. A letter she recognized.

  Immediately, her fuse-box temper ignited.
She’d wanted to tell Ross face-to-face about her debts, not have him going behind her back, as he seemingly had done.

  Taking the letter with her, Jessica strode into the kitchen where Ross was cleaning the pancake mess from the floor. She grabbed his collar, yanked him to his feet, and slapped the letter across his face. “You want to tell me about this?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” he replied, his tone maddeningly calm.

  “Those letters and files in my spare bedroom are personal and private. I can’t believe you went through them. You had no right!”

  “The words pot and kettle spring to mind here. Did you like the ring? I saw you when I came in to see if you were awake.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh. And for your information, I didn’t go through your personal and private files. That letter was in your bedroom, on the dressing table—”

  “Liar!” she interrupted, pot and kettle definitely in attendance. She went to slap the letter across his face again, but he caught and held her wrist.

  “Like I said, that letter was on your dressing table,” he stated firmly and calmly. “It was there with some other bills, a couple of junk mail letters, and that photograph you told me about. Why didn’t you tell me it was taken here?”

  “I didn’t think it was important…” She trailed off when a vivid memory popped forward, a memory of leaving yesterday’s mail on the dressing table. Oops. Her temper cooled quicker than the planet had during the Ice Age.

  “You didn’t think it was important?” he repeated, incredulous. “Dammit, Jessica! How can I protect you when you refuse to be straight with me? Don’t you realize the danger you’re in? Or is your head buried so deep—”

  “Of course I friggin’ well realize!” She wrenched free and went and stood at the window, watching the comings and goings in the street outside. With a muttered curse, Ross was beside her in an instant, pulling her away.

  “You’re not safe here. We’re not safe here,” he amended.

  “Then why bring me here in the first place?”

  For a moment, he stared at her, even more incredulous than he had been a second earlier, before thundering, “Because you refuse to be straight with me!” He clenched and unclenched his fists in an effort to curb his anger. It helped, but not much. “Do you know what, Jessica? You wanna see a real moron? Look in the mirror!”

  For ten seconds, maybe longer, silence reigned. Then a loud growling sound punctured the tense air. Despite himself, Ross felt his lips twitching. “I guess that’ll teach me to throw my breakfast at the wall.”

  Jessica’s lips slowly stretched into a smile as Ross’s stomach again growled. “I’m sorry for accusing you of looking through my files. And I’m sorry about the ring. It’s beautiful, by the way.” She fiddled with his tie, rolling it around her forefinger, then letting it drop and straighten. “I’m such a screwup, Ross. I’m in serious debt. Have been for a couple of years.”

  “But a girl’s gotta have her shoes.”

  “And a boy’s gotta have his jeans,” she countered, tit for tat. “No, for your information, my debts are everyday living costs. They tend to add up when you’ve got no job. My reporting wasn’t bringing in much money so for extra income I became a private detective. But I can’t even do that right. I’ve screwed my father’s agency big time.” She hadn’t meant to go as far to admit that, but it just slipped out. She heard Ross’s intake of air. One colostomy coming up, she grimly thought, knowing she couldn’t back out now. Still didn’t mean she would let him help her if, or rather, when he offered. She’d screwed up. She’d put it right.

  “Since when?”

  “Since day one.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything? You know you can always talk to me. About anything.”

  “Because I’m a failure.” There, she’d said it. And as colostomies went, it hadn’t been too painful. Embarrassment wasn’t evident, either. Probably because she was staring at Ross’s tie knot, not his face.

  “You’re neither a screwup nor a failure.”

  He sounded sincere, but she still couldn’t look at him. “Compared to you I am.”

  “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Jessica, I’ve made mistakes.”

  “Name one.”

  “Asking you into my bed.”

  She looked up then. “You don’t mean that.”

  He blew out a hard breath. “No. I don’t regret making love to you.”

  She smiled. “Neither do I. So what mistakes have you made?”

  He returned her smile. “Not realizing how much trouble you’re in, financial or otherwise. Does Ray know?”

  She lowered her head again and shook it. “I can’t bring myself to tell him.”

  “Maybe you won’t need to. Let me help.”

  Jessica’s head whipped up. “No! This is my screwup, and I’m sorting it.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. It’s nothing to do with you. And that’s the end of it,” she added, just in case Ross felt like arguing. He didn’t. Yet, his expression told her it wasn’t the end of the matter, not by a long shot. She went over to her backpack and removed a toothbrush. “Let’s go see Rafferty. Or rather, I’ll see Rafferty.” She sighed with mock enthusiasm. “How come I get all the fun?”

  “You may want to put some underwear on first.”

  Jessica paused in the kitchen doorway. Then, smoothing her hands down her dress, she gave Ross a suggestive smile and murmured, “Not on your life, babe.”

  “Don’t call me babe. We’re not lovers. We’re friends. And that’s the way it’s gonna stay.”

  Now, why didn’t that sound totally convincing? As she approached Ross again, she concluded it didn’t sound convincing because he didn’t mean it. Wrapping her arms around his neck, watching his eyes widening, Jessica pressed her lips to his and sucked his tongue into her mouth. For a moment, he deepened the kiss, before jerking away.

  “Don’t do that again!”

  “Whatever you say, babe.”

  “I mean it, Jessica. We’re friends. Period. You got that?”

  “Loud and clear,” she replied, not in any way disheartened as she left the kitchen to go to the bathroom. So Ross and herself were just friends, were they? Well, yes, they were, but the conflict she’d felt within him told her he wanted more. Much more. And, oh, boy, did she intend to give him more.

  Right after as Ross had vowed, but with the small amendment of, until they caught the bastard who wanted her dead. Together they would send him on a one-way trip to the cemetery.

  Chapter 9

  “Miss Ferris, a pleasure as always.”

  Jessica gave Rafferty a lukewarm smile as she entered his office and he rose to his feet. “Likewise, Detective Rafferty. Likewise.”

  “Please, call me Scott. Take a seat. Tea? Coffee?”

  She sat in one of the rigid chairs in front of Rafferty’s desk, noting the absence of personal knickknacks that usually adorned the desks of male detectives whom she knew. Ross included. No family photos. No boys’ toys, such as miniature pinball or pool. No jokey mug. No squeezy stress ball. No naked woman desktop calendar, either. Just a telephone, a blotter pad, an empty wire tray, and a pencil cup containing a solitary pen. Something else occurred to her. Why did Detective Rafferty have an office all to himself?

  “Because I asked.”

  Surprised, Jessica switched her attention from the desk to the man sitting behind it. Did Rafferty have mind-reading properties? She hoped not. This was the first time she’d met him during daylight hours. Although bathed in light from the sun that streamed in through the windows on either side of him, something told her he was more suited to the night. Like a shadow. A ghost. And as she mentally tripped and fell into his black, expressionless eyes, she began to have serious doubts as to his existence on planet earth.

  “So, tea or coffee?”

  “Tea. Chamomile,” she added with a saccharine smile, zooming in on Rafferty’s chest. Phew, he was
breathing. She couldn’t see through his hand either as he signaled to somebody walking past the open doorway.

  “A cup of chamomile tea for Miss Ferris.”

  “Chamomile tea? We don’t have that.”

  “Then go out and get some!” Rafferty barked, making both Jessica and the just-out-of-college, fresh-faced man dressed in a civilian uniform jump. “Sorry about that.” He sounded anything but. “While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me where Detective Anderson is.”

  She then began to wish she’d taken Ross’s advice of wearing underwear, as those expressionless eyes toured her body, lingering for a long moment on her breasts. “He’ll be here shortly. There’s a salon a few blocks down and he just wanted to book an appointment for a chest wax.”

  “Really?”

  Jessica returned his smirk. “Really. So, Detective Rafferty—”

  “Scott.”

  “Scott. How old are you? Where are you originally from? Have you any family? Wife? Children? Whereabouts do you live?”

  “Such a lot of questions, Miss Ferris.”

  “Jessica.” She again returned the smirk. “What can I say? I’m a PI.”

  “And a former reporter.” Rafferty leaned forward, his pale hands flat on the desk. “I’ve read some of your stories.”

  “I wrote facts, not stories,” she amended silkily. “As I was saying, just like yourself and other police officers, PIs and reporters get to ask questions.”

  “But it’s whether those questions are answered or not that counts, right?”

  “Quite. And are you going to answer?”

  “Over twenty-one. Milwaukee. Orphan. No. No. New York.”

  “New York’s a big city.”

  “Indeed, it is. What about you, Jessica? How old are you? Where are you originally from? Family? Husband? Kids? Whereabouts do you live?”

  “It’s rude to ask a woman’s age. Planet earth. None of your business. Can’t remember. Too many. You know where.”

  Rafferty laughed then, a suggestive, lively laugh that totally and unexpectedly pricked Jessica’s interest. His black eyes now lit up with life, and she, for the first time, noticed he was really good-looking. Not as handsome as Ross, but still…