by Candis Terry
“You startled me.” Kelly backed up and met the cabinet with her behind.
“Sorry.” His brown eyes softened. “That wasn’t my intent.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, not meaning to sound bitchy but probably failing.
“It’s Friday night.”
“And that means?”
“I usually get together with your brother and sister and their significant others on Friday nights for either a beer or a barbecue.”
“Oh.” Shoot. There went any chance of relaxing tonight. Everything about James Harley woke her up. “Well, everyone else is out back.”
“Great.” His smile lit up his eyes. “Kelly, this is Brianna.”
Brianna the bombshell brunette gave a finger wiggle and a beauty-pageant smile.
“Nice to meet you,” Kelly said, although something territorial inside of her wished Brianna had a wart on the end of her perfect nose.
James turned to his date. “Why don’t you head out back. I’ll finish helping in here.”
“Okay.” Brianna went on tip-toe in her sparkly blue flip-flops and kissed James’s cheek. “Don’t make me wait too long though.”
James watched the woman’s ample booty leave the room with an appreciative smile on his face.
Kelly frowned. And to think, just a few hours ago he’d been asking for her phone number. Player.
He set the brown paper bag he’d been holding on the granite counter and came toward her in a relaxed gait that boasted confidence with every step. He reached into the drawer next to her hip. “Here you go.” He held up a corkscrew and flashed a smile like he’d discovered gold.
“Thank you.” She reached for the metal tool.
“On second thought,” his warm palm curled around her hand and electricity snapped. “How about I just take care of that for you?”
“I’m perfectly capable,” she said, untangling their fingers.
“Of course you are.” There came that grin again. “But how about you allow my chivalrous side pretend to help a lady in distress?”
“Have at it.” She backed away. “Who am I to wound an ego?”
He tore off the seal and stuck the pointed end of the tool into the cork. “I’m sure you’ve crushed a few in your day.”
Hardly. The only thing she’d ever crushed was the ability to put a murdering psycho behind bars. She watched James wind the opener down into the cork. With each twist, the muscles in his biceps tightened and flexed in a fascinating way. Geez, she had to find something else to occupy her thoughts.
Apparently he and his date planned to stay so she reached into the cupboard and took out additional wine glasses. “What’s in the bag?” she asked, steering to a safer subject.
He opened the bag and peered inside as if he didn’t know, then shrugged those wide shoulders. “Steaks. Bread. Beer. These get-togethers are usually a BYOBB.”
“BYOBB?”
“Bring your own beef and booze.”
“Ah.” She lifted the wine bottle from the counter and juggled it in her arms with the glasses and the napkin holder. “I’m sure your date is waiting. So you should probably get outside.”
“There’s no hurry.”
When he remained immovable Kelly looked up. “You aren’t actually hitting on me when you have a woman waiting outside for you? Because if you are, it’s a complete waste of your time. I don’t associate with multi-daters.”
He looked surprised instead of insulted. “I am proud to say I have never dated two women at the same time.”
“Then I stand corrected.” She bowed her head.
“You don’t know me well enough to judge, Counselor.” The hint of a smile pushed at his sexy mouth. “I do have principles.”
“I’m sure you do.” She laughed. “Somewhere.”
“I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Obviously. But don’t worry, Deputy. I won’t rat you out that you asked for my phone number just a few hours ago. Your questionable scruples may remain . . . undamaged.”
He plucked the bottle and glasses from her arms, poured a splash of wine, and handed her the glass.
“No thanks.”
“Loosen up, Counselor. Just because I asked for your number doesn’t make me a bad guy. God knows I’ve never claimed to be a saint. But you and I, we had something—”
“We had nothing. I was drunk and—”
“Horny?”
Ouch. “Obviously.”
“Otherwise you wouldn’t have chosen me. Right?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is that will never happen again.”
He grinned. “You sure of that?”
“Absolutely.” Not. She folded her arms. “Enough to bet money on it.”
Loaded down with the wine and glasses he grabbed the bag off the counter and headed toward the door.
Good. He’d finally gotten a clue.
When he reached the door he stopped, turned, then came back to stand in front of her again. His warm brown eyes glittered with mischief. He leaned in, bringing his freshly showered, sexy male scent with him, and grinned.
“I’ll take that bet, Counselor. How much are you willing to lose?”
“Not going to happen, Deputy.”
“How much?”
She searched his face and the anticipation she found there started a fire burning at the base of her spine. “Fifty. Think you can afford to do without?”
“Fair warning, Angelface.” He leaned down and spoke very clearly. “I never lose.”
The BYOBB dinner conversation spanned the gamut from fantasy football to wedding flowers to cake pops. With the chairs gathered around the fire ring, James leaned back in the Adirondack on Dean and Emma’s deck. Above them the stars winked in a calm velvet sky and danced off the gentle ripples on the lake.
It was a perfect night.
He’d only made one huge error.
Bringing Brianna.
He glanced over at the pretty brunette he’d dated off and on for a few weeks now. He’d invited her last week after they’d had a nice time together at Matt and Kate’s turn to host the BYOBB, but there was nothing more there than a physical attraction. With only a few hours warning that Kelly Silverthorne was back, he’d been unable to cancel. In his book, breaking a date at the last minute was rude and unacceptable. Even if his heart was not in the game.
During the robust discussion he had plenty to contribute to the dialogue of legendary quarterback Peyton Manning’s career turns, but he was clueless on whether the scent of the star iris might be too overwhelming for a bridal bouquet. Or if the idea of cake on a stick sounded like a profitable bakery item. But even if he had nothing to say at all he was content to sit and watch Kelly Silverthorne try to pretend he didn’t exist.
To his dismay the prosecutor was doing a damned fine job.
“So what made you decide to have the wedding here by the lake instead of a church?” Brianna asked Emma, who seemed perfectly comfortable perched on the lap of one of the NFL’s greatest quarterbacks and stroking her kitten, Lucky. “I’ve always dreamed of a big church wedding with at least ten bridesmaids,” Brianna said, shifting her hopeful gaze to James.
James took a well-timed slug of his Sam Adams.
“Who wouldn’t want to be married out here? In fact,” Dean said to Emma, “we might want to put that on our list of possible uses for the lakeside meadow. We could loan it out for weddings.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Great idea. We could even build a gazebo.” She pointed toward the lake where the sliver of moon reflected like a beacon off the water. “Right there.”
“Do you want to be married in a gazebo?” Dean asked Emma.
“That would be really nice, but the wedding is only a few weeks away.”
James laughed as Dean gave his intended a look.
“If you want a gazebo, honey,” Dean said. “You’ll have a gazebo.”
Emma gave Dean a countering look filled with so much love that even James’s
romantically stunted heart took an unexpected leap.
“Aren’t you guys worried about all those people tromping through your property?” Kelly asked, while her thumb absently stroked the glass globe of wine. “You’re going to need to up your liability coverage. I mean, you’ve already got the risk of kids here for the charity camp several times a month.”
“The more the merrier,” Dean said.
“Don’t be such a party pooper, Kel. It’s so much more beautiful out here,” Kate added, as she took her husband’s empty beer bottle and replaced it with a full one. “The only reason Matt and I were married in the church was because we would have gotten frostbite if we’d tried to have an outdoor wedding in December. Things don’t always have to be so stringent. Sometimes things are better a little . . . messy.”
“Yeah,” Dean teased. “Lighten up a little.”
“Easy for you to say.” Kelly glanced away, her next comment a barely audible mumble. “Neither of you screwed up your job and let a murderer walk free.”
Curious, James sat up straighter. He hadn’t heard anything about this case. Not that he followed what Kelly did in Chicago. But he definitely listened when Dean or Kate mentioned something.
James watched Kelly’s shoulders stiffen as she sheltered her remaining thoughts behind a mask of indifference. He imagined she used that same façade in the courtroom when she became the bug under the microscope. When everyone watched her for a reaction. Judged her for a wrong move. Here in the mountains of Montana, that façade had no place.
An unexpected wall of protectiveness fell over him.
“Wow. That’s awful. How did she do that?” Brianna whispered. Loudly. James wanted to choke her even though she didn’t say it in a malicious way.
Unfortunately the damage had been done. Kelly clearly heard the comment and the smoothness of her forehead disappeared behind a chain of worry lines. She stood and went to the deck rail, pushed her curly blond hair behind her shoulders, and looked out over the lake. “You guys act like I don’t know how to have any fun.”
Kate looked up. “Maybe it’s not that you don’t know how as much as maybe you’ve forgotten to make time.”
“Leave her alone, Kate,” Matt said.
James was happy to see someone take her side before he jumped in to defend her.
Kelly turned to face her sister. “My kind of fun is probably just different than yours.”
“Then give me a for-instance.” Kate scooted to the edge of her Adirondack chair. “You know I love you. I’m not trying to be nasty. I’m concerned.”
“Well . . . for starters . . .”
From James’s point-of-view, the long pauses indicated Kelly was waiting for her wheels to start turning. Not a good sign.
“I jog along the lakefront every chance I get,” Kelly finally said.
“Running is a great way to clear your mind,” James said.
“It is.” Kelly smiled as though she realized he’d just rescued her from a sinking ship. “Of course, it’s not a year-round activity. Sometimes it’s just too cold or too hot.”
“What other fun things do you do?” Dean asked.
“I belong to a book club.” Kelly’s delicate brows came together. “We meet once a month. Usually at a nice restaurant.”
“I’m not much for reading, but restaurants can be fun,” James added, knowing it sounded lame but wanting to take the heat off her. He may not like the way her siblings were ragging on her so-called fun activities, but he was definitely on their side. The pastimes that seemed so hard for her to come up with sounded a little lackluster. He knew from experience she had a whole lot of good time wrapped up in that curvy, petite body. She definitely could put a lot of pop in the fire. He’d seen for himself what the woman was like when she let go.
He thought of her in his arms, and in his bed. She took what she wanted, gave back in spades, and opened up like a treasure chest bursting with sparkling jewels. She’d smiled. And sighed. And even giggled. Of course that could all have been from the champagne bubbling through her system at the time, but he doubted it. She’d just become a pro at restricting that delightful part of her personality.
He took another long draw of his beer and studied her over the top of the amber bottle. She gave him a tentative smile that opened a small window into her soul.
Tonight she seemed wound tight. Closed off. Stressed. Worried. Exhausted. A completely different woman from the one he’d made love to back in December. She’d come home for her brother’s wedding and a little R&R. To cut loose and maybe learn to have a little fun.
He set his bottle down on the table beside his chair. Forget about just wanting the gorgeous prosecutor in his bed again. If she needed a little instruction on the finer joys in life, James figured he was the right man to teach her.
With clothes or without.
CHAPTER FOUR
Close to midnight Kelly finally had the keys to her escape in hand, and she climbed into her mother’s ancient Buick. The beast of a car had been used by both Kate and Dean upon their arrival back in Deer Lick. Now it was hers for the duration of her stay.
Why no one had sold the heap of junk after her mother died was anyone’s guess. Sentiment probably. Then again, who’d want to buy the rusty old thing? As she cranked over the engine, waved to her brother and Emma, and drove away, she wasn’t even sure she’d make it home. The fuel tank read full, but there were other things that could go wrong in a more than twenty-year-old car than just running out of gas.
The headlights lit up the rows of pine trees bordering the road while Kelly yawned. She imagined her head hitting the pillow of the twin bed she’d slept in as a kid in the room she’d shared with her baby sister. The same sister who’d managed to torture her as much then as she did now. As a kid, Kate had been somewhat of a loose cannon. Her relationship with their mother had been contentious, to say the least. Moving back home and falling in love again with her high school sweetheart had seemed to take the snap out of Kate’s sizzle. Then again, their mother had dropped dead of a heart attack almost a year ago, so Kate really didn’t have anyone around to ruffle her fighting spirit.
The interior of the car still smelled like vanilla—her mother’s scent. The woman could shower and splash on ten dollars worth of Avon, but she’d still end up smelling like the baking extract.
Sadness pinged around Kelly’s heart and stole her breath.
She’d never had a chance to say goodbye to her mother. Of course, if she had, her mother probably would have corrected her on the way she’d spoken the words. Or better yet, she would have ignored the words altogether. Sadly, Kelly knew she hadn’t had any better of a relationship with her mother than Kate.
No better. Just different.
As a diversion from her thoughts she turned on the radio and found the oldies station they’d all been brought up on. If she and her siblings had wanted to listen to metal, pop, or rock, they’d had to do it outside the home, because her mother insisted they’d quit making good music in the sixties. So while Elvis sang “Suspicious Minds,” Kelly continued down the road, taking in the darkness that sucked up the exterior of the car. If she’d been anywhere in Chicago by herself on a dark road like this, she would have been petrified. But she was in Deer Lick, where even the crickets knew nothing exciting ever happened.
After commercials for Big Pop’s Popcorn and Buffalo Bill’s Funeral Home, the song on the radio changed to Tom Jones’s “It’s Not Unusual”—her mother’s favorite. A wave of nostalgia swept over her tired brain. She laughed, thinking of the times her mother would watch the Welsh singer perform on TV then get up and mimic his moves. Kelly found herself singing along, if only to keep herself awake.
Unexpectedly a light flashed in the rearview mirror and nearly blinded her. She flipped the mirror to night vision but it didn’t dim the glow.
“Geez, go around if you’re in such a big hurry.” She eased off the accelerator to give the car behind plenty of room to pass, but the light remaine
d. Kelly’s stomach jumped. She dug into her purse for her cell phone in case the person tailgating her car wasn’t just some innocent driver sharing the same road at the same time. Maybe Deer Lick had changed after all.
Tom Jones gave a whoa-whoa-whoa and Kelly pulled the iPhone from her bag. She wasn’t one who believed in texting or dialing while driving, but the hell if she’d pull over with the mad tailgater kissing her bumper. She slid her thumb across the display and tapped Contacts.
“Put the phone away. You have no reason to be afraid.”
The voice from the backseat startled Kelly. The phone fell from her hand and she swerved to the side of the road in an abrupt stop. She pushed open the door and jumped out. Then she realized she may have just put herself in more danger. She turned to look for the car that had been tailgating her, but there was no car. She looked in all directions and saw nothing but darkness. She was completely alone on the dark and deserted road. Alone except for the blinding golden glow that filled the entire backseat of her mother’s beat-to-shit Buick.
Keeping her distance, she ducked down and peered through the window. Nothing there except the glow.
What the hell?
She grabbed for the door handle as if it was flaming hot and yanked the door open. The glow disappeared. Her eyes scanned from the floorboard to the roof and found nothing out of the ordinary. All that remained in the car were an array of pastry cookbooks, a box of quilting fabric, and a knitting tote with super-sized needles poking out of the top of a ball of red yarn. All objects that had been left there by the car’s now-deceased owner.
Crap.
She really should have taken a leave of absence much sooner.
She slammed the car door and took a deep breath of clean mountain air to clear her head. She’d gotten up at the break of dawn, climbed into an airplane, and flown halfway across the country. Once she’d arrived, she’d put in several hours at the Sugar Shack and another couple of hours going over legal documents for her brother’s charity organization. It was now past midnight. She was just . . . exhausted.
There could be no other explanation.
She needed to shake off the heebie-jeebies, climb back in that car, drive straight home, and crawl into bed. Screw putting on her pajamas. Screw washing off her makeup. She was plunging face first into the pillow, and she didn’t plan to wake up until noon tomorrow.
