by Sherry Lewis
He rolled onto his side and punched the pillow into shape. What was the matter with him? He knew better than to let himself think this way about a woman. It could only lead to one of two things—sex or commitment. Adam couldn’t afford to indulge in the first—not on assignment—and he didn’t want the second. Not by a long shot.
He rolled onto his other side and started to readjust the pillow when something heavy crashed onto the floor overhead. Galloway! He’d broken in!
Without pausing to think, Adam jumped from the bed, crossed the room in four strides and jerked open the door. With his heart drumming in his veins and his mind racing, he ran through the laundry room and raced up the stairs two at a time.
Which room? DJ’s or Marissa’s? Should he rush Galloway or take a more cautious approach? Slowing his steps, he pressed his back against the wall and cursed himself for not grabbing his weapon. If Galloway was armed, Adam’s bare feet and empty hands wouldn’t protect anyone.
Soundlessly he rounded the corner and crept toward the bedrooms. He couldn’t see any light coming from Marissa’s room, but a thin ray of light illuminated the carpet in front of DJ’s. He stopped moving and held his breath so he could listen.
Nothing.
No, wait. A sound. Soft. Almost like something brushing against a window.
He crept a step closer.
It stopped, then started again.
He closed the distance to the door and pressed his ear against the wood.
DJ must be inside, but was she alone? He heard her moan softly, and a second later came another crash. The floor reverberated and DJ cried out in pain.
Adam threw his weight against the door. He heard the satisfying sound of wood ripping from hinges as he pulled himself into DJ’s room.
Inside, dresser drawers lay scattered across the floor and the bed had been pulled out from the wall. Even the chair had been moved since yesterday. Counting on Galloway to aim high, Adam dropped to the floor and rolled behind the headboard.
He caught his breath and strained to control his breathing, suddenly aware of a heavy silence. Inching along the headboard, he started toward the opposite side of the bed. He had to spot Galloway’s position before Galloway got a bead on him.
Too late, he heard a footstep behind him. He pivoted toward the sound and found himself staring up into DJ’s narrowed eyes.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She didn’t sound frightened. In fact, she sounded almost angry. Before he could think of a reply, she folded her arms and glared at him.
He stood to face her. “Are you all right? Is anyone else in here?”
“Am I—?” She broke off and shook her head, then pointed toward the sagging bedroom door. “Why did you do that?”
Adam shifted position and tried like hell to come up with a reasonable explanation for breaking into her room. “I thought you were in trouble,” he said at last.
She cocked her head a little and closed her eyes as if she were seeking help from somewhere else. “I’m rearranging my furniture.”
He glanced around the room again, more slowly this time. “It sounded like something broke—”
“I dropped the end of the bed. It’s heavy.”
He looked back at her. “Then everything’s okay?”
“It was until you broke the door.”
He looked away again. “I’ll replace it.”
She laughed sharply. “Oh, well, then. Fine. You came rushing up here and broke down my door because you thought I was in trouble?”
He couldn’t do anything but nod.
Her eyes glinted. Her cheeks flushed. And he half expected her to launch into a lecture on the political incorrectness of rescuing damsels in distress—real or imagined.
Instead, she started to laugh.
He stared at her, scarcely able to believe her reaction. But when he took another look at the room—at the drawers on the floor and the dresser in the middle of the room, the bed on the diagonal and himself cowering behind it—he couldn’t help but laugh with her.
He knew how foolish he must look to her, but he couldn’t make himself care. Not at the moment. Standing in the middle of this ridiculous scene, he felt better than he had in years.
He leaned an elbow on the headboard and cupped his chin in his hand. “Do you mind my asking why you’re rearranging your furniture now?”
She dropped onto the foot of the bed and smiled up at him. “I’m too tired to sleep.”
“Trouble?”
“No. Not really. Just the usual.”
The answer might have done more to set his mind at ease if he’d had any idea whether “the usual” concerned Galloway. He glanced around again and quirked an eyebrow at her. “I’ll be glad to help you finish, if you’d like.”
Her smile faded a bit and she shook her head. “No. Thanks. I’m used to doing it alone.”
“Not with me trying to sleep in the room downstairs,” he said.
Her impish grin returned. “That’s true.”
“Then you’ll let me help?”
She considered the offer for such a long time, he could sense the amount of effort it cost her to accept. “All right,” she said at last, and her gaze met his. “Thank you.”
The expression on her face touched something inside him he didn’t want reawakened, so he glanced away quickly. But he couldn’t maintain his distance.
He turned back, fully intending to say something else. When their eyes met this time, his memory flickered and died, leaving him with no idea what he’d been about to say.
She stared at him with eyes so dark they looked nearly black. Her mouth parted slightly, softly, as if she, too, wanted to speak.
He let his gaze travel from her eyes to her lips and down to the point in the hollow of her neck where her pulse jumped. And he felt an unexpected urge to pull her into his arms and hold her there. He imagined himself lowering his lips to hers—just for an instant—and brushing her mouth with his own. He could almost feel her pressed against him.
He blinked and tried to drag his eyes away. This was not what he wanted in his life. But he couldn’t do anything to break the silence that grew around them. It rolled outward in waves, until it blocked everything else.
Drawing in a sharp breath, Adam forced himself to turn away. He tried to ground himself by taking a drawer into the hall and clearing floor space so they could move the rest of the furniture. He tried to calm the thudding of his heart and to appear as if he hadn’t almost lost his senses. He tried to put the image of her eyes and lips from his mind, but he knew he’d never be able to look at her the same way again.
DJ CARRIED HER FIRST morning cup of coffee down the hall and stared at the broken door to her bedroom. Quite honestly, she didn’t know what to make of Adam McAllister. He’d come bursting through her door like a madman one minute and stared into her eyes as if he wanted to make love to her the next.
She’d needed every ounce of self-control she could find to ignore him while he’d helped her move her furniture into place. And she’d stayed awake far too long thinking about him even after he’d gone back downstairs to bed.
This arrangement would never work. He’d have to go. Now. If they had any more episodes like the one last night, she would have a hard time sending him away. But if yesterday was any indication of things to come, she couldn’t afford to let him stay. He stirred feelings that were better left alone.
Shaking her head slowly, she pivoted back toward the kitchen. How would she tell him to leave? What excuse could she offer? He hadn’t actually said anything. He hadn’t made a play for her or tried to initiate sex. Maybe she’d only imagined that spark of interest in his eyes. Maybe it was something else—like heartburn.
She pushed her fingers through her hair and sighed loudly. She couldn’t waste any more time agonizing over Adam McAllister. She had a thousand things to do today—her rosebushes needed trimming, the flower beds needed weeding, the lawn should be mowed at least once m
ore. Marissa needed some time and attention, and she wanted to call her mother again to make sure everything was all right.
“Mommy, what happened?”
DJ turned back to find Marissa in front of her own bedroom and pointing toward DJ’s with a horrified expression on her sleepy face, her hair tangled into a rat’s nest.
“What are you doing awake so early?”
“That man woke me up.”
“Which man? Adam?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“How did he wake you up?”
Marissa glanced up at her in surprise. “He was outside in the rose garden. Didn’t you see him?”
“No, I’m afraid I didn’t.” She hadn’t even heard him leave the house.
“How did you break your door?” Marissa asked again.
DJ pursed her lips and tried to think of a reasonable explanation. She couldn’t. “Adam sort of broke it last night.”
“He broke it? How?”
“He—” She paused and managed an embarrassed laugh, then started again. “He thought Mommy was in trouble, so he came in to help.”
“And he broke your door?”
DJ nodded.
“Were you in trouble, Mommy?”
She shook her head quickly. “No, sweetheart. I was changing my bedroom around and I dropped something….” She let her voice trail away as the significance of Adam’s actions hit her squarely. She smiled softly. “Everything was fine.”
When Marissa walked closer to the door and reached out to touch the splintered wood, DJ grabbed her by the other hand and guided her away. “Don’t touch it, sweetheart. You might get hurt.” She hefted the child to her hip and kissed her cheek. “Do you know what today is?”
Marissa beamed. “Sunday! You stay home today.”
“You’re right.” DJ kissed her other cheek noisily.
Marissa giggled and wriggled from DJ’s grasp to the floor. Still grinning, she tugged on the hem of DJ’s sweater. “Can we go to the zoo today? P’ease?”
“I can’t today, sweetheart. We have too much work to do. But I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take you next week if you’ll help me clean up the rose garden today. Okay?”
Marissa didn’t look happy. “What do I have to do?”
“You can hold the garbage bag while I clean out the flower beds.”
“Yucky.”
“But necessary.” DJ touched her fingertips to Marissa’s soft cheek. “Is it a deal?”
Marissa nodded.
“Good. Now, what do you want for breakfast?”
“Pancakes.”
“All right. That’s what we’ll have.” DJ carried Marissa into the kitchen and settled her at the table. She cooked breakfast quickly and chatted as she worked, but the memory of Adam bursting through her door to rescue her kept replaying through her mind the entire time.
He didn’t even know her, but he’d been willing to put himself in danger to help her. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized she might not mind having him stay in the basement, after all.
FEELING HIS WAY through the dim morning light seeping in through the basement windows, Adam crossed the laundry room and started up the stairs toward the back landing. He’d spent half the night studying Larry Galloway’s mug shot and preliminary report again, noting Galloway’s history of ever-increasing violence and trying to find the connection between Galloway and DJ.
His thoughts always returned to the same question. Why did Christina Prescott insist on keeping vital information secret from DJ and her own security people? Why tie Adam’s hands by keeping him in the dark?
By morning, his frustration level had doubled. Obviously Christina Prescott didn’t intend to tell him anything useful, so he would have to pump DJ again—more directly this time.
He’d still have to approach her cautiously, though, and in just one day, he’d already realized that catching DJ alone might be the hardest part of this assignment. Someone always seemed to be with her—if not one of her employees, then a customer. If not a customer, Marissa or the baby-sitter.
Well, he’d just have to put himself in her path often and work his way into her confidence. And hopefully, he would be able to find out something before Galloway appeared.
He climbed the last of the stairs into the kitchen. The window over the sink was partway open, and the air—autumn-crisp and cool—drifted into the room and fluttered the window coverings.
A pot of coffee warmed on the burner and mixed with the fresh air to fill the room with a rich, earthy aroma. A clean mug and spoon waited for him in the middle of the kitchen table, and early-morning sunlight flickered across the tile floor, making the room feel homey. Warm. Inviting. But only her breakfast dishes drying in the drainboard gave any indication DJ had even been here.
Adam glanced at his watch and scowled. It wasn’t even seven o’clock, and she’d already gone. He’d missed her. He’d have to get up even earlier tomorrow.
Crossing the room, he poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter to think. Outside, a cat crept across the wide back lawn toward the trees and somewhere nearby church bells began to peal.
Sunday. DJ’s day off. So where was she?
He shoved his fingers through his hair and started to turn away just as DJ and Marissa stepped into view carrying a collection of garden tools across the back lawn. He studied DJ intently and wondered what kind of woman she really was.
She looked different this morning, more…feminine, somehow. She’d left her hair loose so that it fell across her shoulders and down her back and caught the sunlight as she moved. She wore a gray sweatshirt that looked far too big, faded jeans that molded to her figure and a pair of white sneakers, but even in such ordinary clothes, she looked almost exotic. Compelling.
Marissa walked at her side, almost a mirror image of her mother. They shared the same mannerisms, the same easy smile, the same barely harnessed energy—like wild horses.
He drained the rest of his coffee, flipped off the coffeepot and left his cup on the counter. Trying to think of an acceptable excuse to hang around, he set off down the stairs and out the door. He caught up with them on the north side of the house just below the terraced rose gardens.
Strolling casually, he tried to look as if he were doing nothing more than enjoying the morning. He needn’t have bothered. DJ didn’t even seem to notice him until he spoke.
“Good morning.”
She pivoted to face him and laughed stiffly when she recognized him. “Good morning. I thought you’d be working on your book.”
“Not yet. I woke up a little late this morning. I didn’t even hear you moving around.”
“You just got up?” She glanced at Marissa, and her brows knit in confusion for a heartbeat, then relaxed again. “When do you write the most—at night? Or are you a morning person?”
“I’m definitely a morning person.” At least, he’d become one if he tried to keep up with DJ. But he didn’t want to discuss himself, and he most definitely didn’t want to discuss his writing habits, so he nodded toward the tools at her feet and tried to guide the conversation away from either topic. “Looks like you’re planning to do a little gardening.”
“We’re pruning the dead roses from the bushes this morning,” DJ said with a glance at Marissa. “Aren’t we, sweetheart?”
The girl hugged her mother’s leg and nodded up at him.
Adam smiled at her. “Do you like to garden?”
Marissa nodded again without taking her eyes from his face.
“Really? That surprises me. I thought maybe you liked to play.”
DJ shot him an amused glance. “Play? Marissa? What makes you think that?”
Adam shook his head and made a face that earned & giggle from Marissa. “I don’t know. It just came to me out of the blue.”
“I do like to play,” she said softly. “Even better than working. But Mommy says she’ll take me to the zoo next Sunday if I help her today.”
“The zoo?
” Adam shook his head and whistled through his teeth. “Lucky girl.”
Marissa nodded solemnly. “On Mommy’s next day off.”
He hunkered down to Marissa’s level and whispered, “You know what? You’re lucky. I haven’t been to a zoo in years, but I don’t even know how to garden.”
Marissa frowned. “You don’t?”
“No. I don’t suppose you could teach me?”
Marissa nodded solemnly. “Can we teach him, Mommy? He could go to the zoo with us.”
DJ hesitated for an instant, then nodded. “I suppose we could. What should we have him do first?”
Marissa didn’t even miss a beat. “He could hold the garbage bag.”
DJ’s lips twitched, but she struggled to keep her expression serious. “He could? But I thought that was your job.”
“He can do it.”
“And what will you do?”
“I could take Holly for a walk.”
This time, DJ didn’t even try to hide her smile. “I see. Well…I suppose it would help if you could keep the dog out of the flower beds.”
Marissa nodded eagerly. “And she needs a walk or she’ll get sick.”
“You’re right. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” DJ ruffled Marissa’s hair. “All right, go ahead. But stay where I can see you.”
“We will, Mommy. Don’t worry.” Marissa raced to the end of the driveway, then turned back for an instant to study Adam before she ran down the sidewalk in a flash of tennis shoes and pink denim.
“Don’t worry,” DJ said with a soft laugh as she looked back at Adam. “Why is it those words always strike terror in my heart?”
“Because kids are still young enough to think they’re in control.”
She brushed her bangs back from her forehead and smiled. “You’re right. You might not have kids of your own, but you must have had some experience with children.”
“Two nieces and one nephew,” he replied, and waited for her to ask the inevitable questions about his own childless state.
To his surprise, DJ didn’t speak again. And when he dared glance back at her, she’d turned away to watch Marissa’s progress.
