Love Me (The Donovan Family Book 1)

by Margaret Watson

He pushed the door closed behind them as he followed her into the office.

  "Wow," she said, studying the now-bare studs separating the space and the pile of drywall on the floor. "Looks a lot different." Her gaze fell on the material piled up beside the door. "What are you doing with all this stuff?"

  "Dumpster's on its way." He wiped his hands on his jeans and resisted the urge to take her hand. "How did it go in court?"

  "Good." Her shoulders relaxed. "We won. My client got full custody and her husband got only supervised visits with his kids."

  So it wasn't the outcome of her case that was bothering her. "Happy ending, then."

  She sighed and hunched her shoulders. "As much as any divorce has a happy ending." Her voice was ragged. "He won't beat his wife anymore. Won't be able to hurt his kids."

  He touched her shoulder carefully. When she didn't object, he smoothed his hand down her upper arm. Her muscles were corded and tense. As if adrenaline raced through her body, preparing her to fight. Or flee.

  "What's up, Helen?" he asked quietly.

  Her guilty gaze caught his, as if he'd seen something she was trying to hide. "A tough case."

  He wondered why Helen was so cautious around him. So careful, as if she didn't want him to see who she really was. Why was she so determined not to get involved with him? Frustration bubbled up, but he forced it down. She hadn't been reluctant last night, he reminded himself.

  "I..." she began, then bit her lip. "I had a little thing."

  Another car door slammed in the street, and heavy footsteps approached. Damn it! Why couldn't the dumpster people have waited another ten minutes?

  Someone pounded on the door, and she jumped. Went pale.

  "Helen? You in there?"

  She let out a deep breath and yanked open the door. "Quinn. Mia. What are you guys doing here?"

  One of the nephews from yesterday stormed in, his hand on his gun, followed by a stunning young woman in a police uniform who looked a lot like Helen.

  The woman shouldered Quinn aside and scowled at Helen. "You couldn't call us? We had to find out from the damn incident report?"

  Helen closed her eyes. "I was going to call you."

  "When?" the woman demanded. "While they were scraping you off the street after the asshole tried again?"

  "What the hell are you talking about?" Fear and anger roiled together inside of him, and Jamie stepped closer to Helen.

  The woman studied him. "Who are you?"

  "Jamie Evans. And you are...?"

  Helen put her hand on his arm. The woman narrowed her gaze at Jamie.

  "Mia, this is Jamie Evans. The contractor who's going to redo the office. Jamie, this is my niece, Mia Donovan."

  Helen held onto his arm, her fingers digging in. He felt them trembling, and he covered her hand with his. What the hell happened? Finally Quinn stepped forward.

  "He's okay, Mia. Con and I met him yesterday." He turned to Helen. "Mia's right. Why didn't you call?"

  "It just happened, okay? I wanted to get away from the courthouse. I would have called later. I'm fine."

  She didn't look fine. She looked pale and tense, and she was shaking.

  "Apparently, everyone but me knows what's going on," Jamie said. He turned to Helen and grabbed her hand. "You want to fill me in?"

  She tried to tug her hand away, but it was a half-hearted effort. Finally she curled her fingers around his. "I stumbled into the street at the courthouse. In front of a cab. The driver was able to stop, I made it back to the curb, it's all good."

  Quinn shook his head. "Aren't you leaving out a crucial piece of information, Helen?"

  She licked her lips, and Jamie felt her hand tremble. "The ex-husband from my case today pushed me," she finally said.

  "What the hell?" He tightened his grip on her and tried to draw her closer. She resisted. "He's in custody, right?"

  "He disappeared before the squad arrived," Mia said. "But we'll find him."

  Jamie turned to Quinn and Mia. "Do you think he's the one who drove into the office?"

  "Probably," Mia said. "Kind of cowardly thing an asshole like that would do."

  "Yeah," Quinn agreed. "Not too hard to follow the dots." He turned to Helen. "You be careful. Go stay with Mom until we catch this guy."

  Helen rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. Good locks, remember? State of the art security system. Five badass cops on speed dial. I'm not staying with Rose."

  She'd be staying with him. But they'd have that argument when the relatives were gone.

  "You've got someone watching her place, right?" Jamie asked.

  "Yeah." Mia studied him again, and her lips twitched. "I'll be looking at the reports every morning. They'll keep a log of everyone who goes in and out of the building."

  "Good to know," Jamie said, hiding his own smile. "I'm sure that makes Helen feel a lot better."

  Helen squeezed his hand, then drew hers away. "Thanks, guys, for coming over here." She frowned. "Wait. How did you know where to find me?"

  Quinn grinned. "Remember when Mac was working that kidnapping case and he insisted on putting the 'Where's My Droid' app on all our phones? Came in handy today."

  Helen frowned at her nephew. "That's creepy, Q. Not sure I like having you know where I am all the time."

  Mia rolled her eyes. "You think we check on you every hour or something? Like we don't have anything better to do than keep track of our elderly aunt?"

  "Elderly?" Helen narrowed her eyes. "I can still take you, kid."

  "Yeah, yeah. You keep telling yourself that." Mia's gaze drifted from Helen to Jamie and back again. "See you on Sunday." She jerked her head toward Jamie. "Bring him with you."

  The two Donovan siblings left, closing the plywood behind them. He waited for Helen to say something, but she bent to adjust the Velcro strap on her boot. When she finally straightened, she said, "So. Dumpster coming soon, you said. When will the demolition be done?"

  He stared at her, shocked and a little pissed off that she would try to change the subject. "I don't give a damn about the dumpster. Helen, why didn't you call me? I would have come to get you."

  "I knew you'd be working." Her leg was jiggling, and she twined her hands together in front of her. Untwined them and shoved them into the pockets of her suit jacket.

  "Really? You didn't think I'd drop what I was doing to come and get you?"

  "Don't start, Jamie," she said, her voice heavy with weariness. "I thought about it, okay? I wanted to call you. But I didn't want to be...presumptuous."

  "Presumptuous? I thought we were past that."

  "We spent one night together a year ago," she said quietly. "I didn't see you again until yesterday. So, yeah, I'm not sure what we are."

  "We're dating. Remember? We went on a date last night."

  She swiped her hand down the material covering her thigh. "That wasn't a date. That was a business meeting."

  "Uh uh. No. You wouldn't let me pay. We agreed it was a date."

  She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but he saw her shift her weight off the booted leg. He took her hand and drew her into the back office. "Sit down. You've probably been on your feet all day."

  She sank into the chair with a sigh of relief. "Feels good."

  "Can you tell me what happened?"

  Helen looked at her lap, twined her fingers together, and swallowed. "The hearing went well. We got everything we wanted – my client got full custody, her ex can only see their kids with supervision. I hustled her out of court while Do...the husband was talking to his attorney and put her in a cab for the train station. Her cab had just disappeared when I was shoved into the street.

  "It's not as big a deal as Quinn and Mia were making it out to be. I wasn't going to get run over. The cab driver was half a block away and stopped in plenty of time. I got back on the sidewalk by myself."

  "And what about...what was his name?"

  She sighed. "I guess his name is in the police report, so I don't have to worry about confiden
tiality. Doug Ashcroft."

  "What about Ashcroft?"

  "He was standing behind me. No one else was close. He told me to be careful. Then he walked away."

  He wanted to pull her against him. Hold her and never let go. Instead, he said, "Let's go to your place. You can pack a bag and stay with me for a few days. Until they've caught this guy."

  She shook her head. "I'm not staying with you, Jamie. Thank you, though. That's very kind of you."

  Kind of him? He wasn't feeling kind. He was angry. Livid. Ready to rip Doug Ashcroft apart.

  If she didn't want to stay with him, he'd stay with her. End of discussion.

  "You hungry?" he asked.

  "I think I am." She sounded surprised.

  "Let's go get some lunch, then."

  "I thought you were waiting for a dumpster."

  Damn it. "Yeah, I am. Can you wait for lunch?"

  "No, I think I'll expire from hunger." She rolled her eyes. Did she get that from Mia, or had Mia learned it from Helen? "Yes, I can wait for lunch." She waved him toward the door. "Go do your thing. I have plenty of work to do."

  "You sure?"

  "Yes. I'm sure. I'm not a delicate flower who needs someone to take care of her. I'm fine. Go work." She pulled her computer out of the briefcase and opened it up. In less than a minute, she was typing.

  Helen was right. She was a strong woman. She didn't need anyone to take care of her. But he wanted to. He wanted to protect her. Keep her safe.

  He wanted a lot of other things from Helen, but he'd keep them to himself for now. He didn't want to freak her out or send her running.

  He'd already waited a year. He could wait a little longer.

  Chapter 7

  After the dumpster arrived, Jamie stepped into the office. Helen's hands flew over the keyboard of her laptop, which she'd balanced on her lap. Her booted foot was resting on an open file cabinet drawer. She looked uncomfortable as hell.

  She needed somewhere else to work. Somewhere that she didn't have to contort herself into knots just to use her computer. But he needed to work here, and he didn't want her to be alone after what happened earlier.

  "Dumpster just arrived. You want to get some lunch?"

  "Can you wait another half-hour or so?" She glanced up, her hands still poised over the computer keys. "I'm in the middle of something and I don't want to lose my train of thought."

  He needed food. "I have a better idea." He nodded at the sandwich shop across the street. "That place any good?"

  "Hmmm." She typed a few more words. "Yeah. They're great."

  "I'll get some carryout. What do you want?"

  "Turkey sandwich," she murmured absently.

  "Got it. You want to come with me? I don't want you to be here alone."

  That got her attention. She leaned forward and searched through her briefcase, pulling out a small red cylinder that she held up. "Pepper spray. I'm good."

  He'd only be gone a few minutes. And he'd be able to watch through the window. "Okay. Be right back."

  When he handed her the turkey sandwich, a bag of chips and a bottle of some fancy juice drink, she murmured her thanks and kept typing. He smiled as he watched her take a bite of the sandwich without looking at it.

  He sat on the floor, devouring his own sandwich, and watched Helen glancing at a file, typing, reading the file again. A woman who was so absorbed in her work was sexy as hell.

  No. Helen was sexy, working or not. The fact that she was so passionate about her job was just one of the things he lo...admired about her.

  After he finished his sandwich, he started to load the office debris into the dumpster. By the time he'd cleared the front office and removed the benches along the wall, it was after five o'clock.

  He'd heard Helen shifting on the office chair for the past forty-five minutes. Time to take her home.

  "Ready to go?"

  "Yeah." She shut down her computer, slid it into the briefcase along with the files she'd been studying, then lifted her injured leg off the cabinet drawer. He saw the tiny wince when she put her weight on it.

  They walked out the door together and Jamie locked it behind them. He took her elbow to steer her toward his truck, but she eased away from him.

  All afternoon, as he'd watched her work, he'd pictured her falling into the street, being hit by a car. He'd wanted to wrap his arms around her and protect her. Keep the Doug Ashcrofts of the world away from her. Now she didn't want him to touch her? "What?"

  "I'll take a cab home, Jamie. You've been working all day. You don't have to chauffeur me around."

  "You're kidding, right?" He stared at her, the worry and anger about what had happened earlier going from a simmer to a boil. "You think I'm going to send you home in a cab after what happened today?"

  "Why wouldn't you?"

  "I don't know what kinds of men you're used to dating, Helen, but only a dickwad would let you go home in a cab. I have a truck right here, you had a rough day, and you've got a goddamn sprained ankle on top of it."

  A muscle twitched in her jaw. "You're not 'letting' me go home in a cab? Really, Jamie? Since when are you in charge of 'letting' me do anything?"

  "What if that asshole is waiting at your place?"

  "Then the police who are watching it already have him in custody."

  "Maybe he went up the back stairs. Broke into your apartment. What if he's waiting for you?"

  "What part of 'state of the art security system' don't you understand? He's not in my apartment. I'm perfectly safe. I don't need you hovering over me." She shifted her briefcase to her other hand. "With that imagination of yours, you should be writing thrillers."

  "Fine, Helen." He gripped his keys so tightly that one of them stabbed into his palm. "Go home by yourself in a damn cab. Use your pepper spray to take down Doug Ashcroft. I'm going to stay here and work on your office. Ripping down a few more walls sounds real good right now."

  Fuming, he shoved the key into the lock and unhooked the padlock. When he kicked the plywood open, it crashed against the inside wall.

  ***

  Helen flinched as the sheet of plywood slammed against the wall and bounced back. Jamie stormed in after it and elbowed it shut. Moments later, she heard the cracking sound of wallboard coming off a wall.

  She rubbed her forehead and stood on the hot sidewalk, wondering what to do. Should she go in and apologize to him?

  No. He'd been patronizing and presumptuous, saying he wasn't going to let her go home in a cab.

  Because he'd been worried about her. Concerned for her safety. And hurt. She'd seen it in his eyes. She hadn't told him about the incident with Doug Ashcroft – he found out from Quinn and Mia.

  So, yeah, she owed him an apology. But she was too tired, and too sore, to deal with it right now. Balancing that computer on her lap all afternoon, bending over to type, propping her ankle on the drawer, made her hurt all over.

  And maybe some distance from Jamie would be good. Last night, she'd been ready to jump into bed with him.

  More than ready. Eager. She'd asked him to stay.

  A night to cool off was exactly what she needed.

  As she raised a hand to call a cab to the curb, she glanced at the plywood over her door. Jamie wasn't rushing out to apologize, either. The past twenty-four hours had been pretty intense. Space was probably good.

  After giving the cab driver her address, she watched over her shoulder as they drove away. Jamie hadn't come out by the time they turned the corner and her office disappeared from view.

  By the time she reached her apartment, her ankle felt like a basketball and throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She was sticky with sweat from the morning in court, followed by the accident, followed by spending the afternoon in her now-un-air-conditioned office.

  She waved to the police officer sitting in a squad car at her curb, then limped slowly to her door. Last night, Jamie had been with her. They'd had dinner together, they'd talked and flirted, and he'd carried all her f
iles up the stairs and sorted them for her.

  Last night, she and Jamie had almost had sex on her couch. Would have, if he hadn't been such a nice guy. "You have to be in court tomorrow'. 'Don't want you to be too tired to concentrate'. 'Next time'.

  She'd wanted 'next time' to be tonight. So had Jamie. Instead, they'd had a stupid fight, and she'd been too stubborn and proud to walk into her office and apologize to him.

  She tossed her briefcase onto the couch and headed to her bedroom, where she removed her boot, stripped and limped into the bathroom, wincing every time she put weight on her right ankle. Forty-five minutes later, she stepped out of the bathtub, refreshed if not relaxed. Guilt gnawed at her, and she glanced at her phone. She'd set it on the counter in case anyone called.

  In case Jamie called.

  He hadn't.

  She should be an adult and call him. Apologize.

  Her hand hovered over the phone, and she curled her fingers into her palm. She'd call him tomorrow. She needed the evening to decompress.

  She'd just stepped into a pair of cut-off sweatpants and pulled a tank top over her head when her doorbell rang. In spite of her glib words to Jamie, her stomach clenched. Would Doug Ashcroft have the nerve to come to her door?

  The police officer sitting in his car had a picture of him, she reminded herself. He wouldn't let Doug get as far as her door.

  She flipped open the old laptop she kept to monitor the camera at the front door, and her heart began pounding. Jamie was standing there.

  Swallowing, she pushed the buzzer to unlock the door, then listened as he climbed the stairs. He wasn't running. He was walking slowly.

  Was he dreading facing her? Was he going to tell her he was through with her whiny, ungrateful self? That someone else could finish the job on her office?

  Her heart beating frantically, she opened the door. He looked wonderful – his hair rumpled as if he'd run his hands through it too many times. His jeans sat low on his hips, and his blue shirt clung to his impressive chest and abs.

  He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her chest then drifting down to her legs. Her nipples pebbled, and she remembered she hadn't worn a bra.

  "Jamie." Her voice was low and husky, and she cleared her throat. "Come on in."