All a Man Can Ask

by Virginia Kantra

  Faye turned her head to look at him. “Why?”

  “Because—”

  Because he felt guilty, damn it.

  Because despite her claim not to need him, he had seen tears on her eyelashes, and they scorched his heart. The pixie art teacher was caring and dedicated, qualities he respected. She deserved more thanks than a sketch in the mail. More support than an absentee aunt and an empty vacation cottage could provide.

  “I owe you for lunch,” he said.

  “You did the dishes.”

  “I still owe you. I don’t want to take advantage.”

  Much.

  Just let me into your home, sweetheart, so I can spy on the bad guys and maybe get a look at you in your pretty panties. Let me into your confidence.

  Let me into your bed.

  She lifted one slim shoulder. “Fine. You can make dinner.”

  It took him a second to drag his dirty mind from the vision of her smooth, bare thighs and naked stomach.

  “Right,” he said. “Dinner. I can—” Memory smacked him. Oh, damn. “I have a conflict.”

  Her lips curved. “You can’t cook?”

  “I can cook. But I promised my brother I’d eat at his place tonight.”

  “Another time, then.” Was he imagining it or did she sound disappointed?

  “You could come,” he said.

  “Thank you, but I’m sure your brother—”

  “Jarek invited you.”

  And, boy, would he be surprised to see her. Aleksy never brought his lovelies home to meet the family. His mother wanted more grandchildren. The women wanted—well, despite Aleksy’s warnings, some of the women were after more than a good time. Why create expectations he had no intention of satisfying?

  “That was kind of him,” Faye said politely. “But I’ll be fine.”

  Aleksy didn’t want to leave her alone. “You should come.” And then, so she didn’t get the wrong idea, he added, “For your own protection.”

  She wasn’t impressed. “Nothing’s happened since the break-in. I think I’ll survive one night on my own.”

  “For my protection, then,” Aleksy said desperately.

  “You don’t need protection.”

  “You haven’t met Tess,” he said.

  Faye’s eyes lit with amusement. Deliberately he held her gaze until the amusement shimmered into something else, until the moment stretched bright and tantalizing between them.

  “Come to dinner at my brother’s,” he commanded softly. “Please?”

  Her throat moved. “All right. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

  He wasn’t sure of anything, except that his brother was absolutely going to razz him about this.

  But staring into Faye’s warm brown gaze, Aleksy couldn’t help feeling that everything was suddenly, incredibly, better than okay.

  Chapter 7

  Faye stood on the police chief’s doorstep feeling as out of place as a trick-or-treater in July. She didn’t know these people. She did not want to be involved with this man. And she was pretty sure her skirt and scooped neck T-shirt were wrong, even for a casual family dinner.

  “What did you tell them?” she asked Aleksy.

  He reached over her shoulder to jam a finger on the bell. “What do you think? I told them I was bringing a date.”

  “Oh, like your sister-in-law would believe that.”

  “She’s not my sister-in-law yet.” Aleksy slanted a look at her. “Why wouldn’t she believe it?”

  Because any woman in her right mind would immediately recognize that Aleksy Denko belonged with prime babe material. Someone beautiful and sleek. Someone who knew the score. Faye wasn’t even sure what game they were playing.

  “Because we’re not—I’m not your type, remember?” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Jarek knows who you are.”

  He didn’t disagree with her, she noticed.

  “So he’ll tell her—what? I had to come to dinner because I’m in protective custody?”

  Aleksy drilled the bell again. “Other way around, cream puff. You’re protecting me, remember?”

  “Oh, please. I can’t believe you need protection from—”

  The door opened. The woman framed between the white posts was intimidatingly gorgeous, dark and exotic, with big gold earrings and wide gold eyes.

  “Hi. You must be Faye.” She held out a beautifully manicured hand, her nails a deep, glowing red. “I’m Tess DeLucca.”

  The bartender’s sister. Faye could see the resemblance: those strong, arched brows, that straight, bold nose…

  She shook hands. “I met your brother.”

  Tess stepped back to admit them both into the house. “Well, come in and meet the rest of the family.”

  “Um,” said Faye.

  Aleksy’s hand touched her back in reassurance. “You already know Jarek.”

  “Aleksy!” a cheerful voice boomed from inside the house. “You are late.”

  Aleksy looked at Tess. “You didn’t tell me Mom and Pop were going to be here.”

  She shrugged. “They decided to drive down this afternoon.”

  “So, come in, come in.” A short, handsome, graying man appeared over her shoulder. “I want to meet your lady friend.”

  “You always want to meet the ladies.” The older woman who entered the hall behind him had Jarek’s faint smile and Aleksy’s dark eyes. “Sit down and let Tess greet her guests properly.”

  “Why don’t we all sit down?” Tess said, moving back to admit them. “Faye?”

  Faye flinched under the impact of two pairs of interested eyes.

  “Go get ’em, cream puff,” Aleksy murmured behind her.

  She threw him an annoyed look and stepped over the threshold.

  Aleksy leaned past her to kiss his mother on the cheek. “Hi, Mom. Where’s Jare?”

  “In the kitchen with Allie, cutting up carrots for the salad,” Tess said.

  “Didn’t trust you with the knife, huh?”

  The older man thumped his son on the shoulder. “Manners. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  “Sure, Pop. This is Faye Harper. Faye, my parents, Eric and Mary Denko.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Faye said politely.

  Eric Denko had a broad face, broad hands and a barrel chest. One of the hands engulfed hers. The face split in a smile. “It is very nice to meet you, too. Aleksy, he’s not so much interested in girls lately.”

  Tess snickered.

  “Thanks, Pop,” Aleksy said.

  “I meant, since your friend, that Karen, died,” Eric said with dignity.

  “She was a nice woman,” Mary said. “It was too bad things did not work out between you.”

  “It happens with partners sometimes,” Aleksy said.

  “Yes, if one of them maybe wants to be something more than partners,” Eric said.

  “I’ll bet,” Tess said. She sounded fascinated.

  Faye was pretty fascinated herself. But Aleksy’s jaw was tight and his eyes were stormy.

  She cleared her throat. “Something smells delicious.”

  “My chicken paprikas,” Mary said. “I teach Tess.”

  Tess laughed. “Maybe we should say you’re trying to teach me. Why don’t you all get comfortable in the living room, and I’ll fetch Jarek and drinks.”

  “I can get him,” Aleksy said. He strode through the arched doorway to the kitchen.

  Faye stared after him, torn between concern for his feelings and loss at his desertion.

  Tess dropped onto the couch. “He hates it when I make him feel like a guest.”

  “Which makes it just about irresistible to try,” Faye guessed.

  Tess grinned. “Oh, you’re good. Come sit by me.”

  Mary settled on a chair and clasped her hands together in her lap. “Jarek said you’re a teacher?”

  “Well, yes,” Faye said, and changed the subject. “Who is Allie?”

  “Our Jarek’s daughter,�
�� Eric said.

  “Tess’s daughter, soon,” Mary said with evident pleasure.

  “So, how do you like living with the Boy Scout?” Tess asked.

  Faye was used to the gossip in the teachers’ lounge, but this tag team interrogation felt different somehow. Friendly. Affectionate. Intimate, even. Was it Tess’s training as a reporter? Small town camaraderie? Or family concern? How much did they know of Aleksy’s real reasons for staying in her cottage?

  She felt like an imposter.

  “You brought a date?” A girl’s voice, high and carrying, floated from the direction of the kitchen. “Jeez, Uncle Alex, is, like, everybody getting married now?”

  A male rumble silenced her but it was too late to stop Faye’s hot blush.

  Tess winced in apology. “That would be Allie. Great kid, big mouth.”

  “Runs in the family,” Aleksy said.

  He stood in the doorway, thumbs in his belt loops, taking in the situation and Faye with a glance. She refused to admit, even to herself, how bolstered she felt by his quick, warm appraisal.

  “Oh, yeah,” Tess said. “You and Jarek are such chatterboxes.”

  Aleksy grinned. “We talk.”

  Tess snorted. “To each other, maybe.”

  “Hey, we’re guys.”

  “They’re cops,” Tess told Faye. “That’s even worse. Heaven help any woman who wants to know what’s going on inside those thick skulls.”

  “Something to drink?” Jarek Denko blocked the arch, carrying a tray of bottles and glasses. Faye was unprepared for the way Tess’s bold, clever face softened and glowed at the sight of him.

  “Are you going to let her talk about us like that?” Aleksy appealed to his brother.

  “I never stop Tess from expressing her opinion. She’ll quote the First Amendment at me.” Jarek’s lake gray eyes warmed as he regarded the woman curled on the couch. “Besides, she’s usually right.”

  “Thick-skulled cops?” Aleksy repeated.

  Jarek shrugged and set the tray on the coffee table. “Be grateful she didn’t call us boneheaded Polacks.”

  “Language,” Mary said mildly.

  Eric laughed.

  A slim, dark-haired girl with brand-new sneakers and Jarek’s eyes wandered into the room. Allie, Faye presumed.

  “Who’s a boneheaded Polack?” the girl asked.

  “You’re a boneheaded Polack,” Aleksy said, and grabbed her around the waist. He rubbed his knuckles against her scalp while she laughed and shrieked and protested.

  “Mind the drinks,” Jarek said, sounding so much like Mary Denko that Faye smiled.

  She could like him, she thought, as Aleksy released his knuckle-hold on his niece and the talk became general. She could like them all. She listened, amused and intrigued, as the conversation hopped and flowed from the need for a new traffic light to Tess’s hunt for a wedding gown to Allie’s chances on making the middle school basketball team in the fall.

  The Denko brothers were tough men in a dangerous profession. But it was significant—and very sweet—that top cop Jarek Denko held hands with Tess on the couch. Aleksy, even as he argued with his brother about Eden’s need for more female officers, played cards on the floor with his niece.

  The talk skipped again to the previous night’s game against Minnesota. Jarek and his father followed the Cubs, Aleksy was a White Socks fan—although, after listening to them wrangle, Faye suspected his support had as much to do with a love of argument as the sport of baseball.

  He leaned his back against Faye’s chair. His shoulder brushed her knee. His warm hand wrapped around her ankle and her pulse jumped.

  He tilted his head to look at her. “You look like you’re sizing us all up to put in one of your pictures.”

  His hair was soft against her arm. From this angle, his eyes were upside down and dangerously charming.

  Faye shook her head. “I don’t think I could. I haven’t figured out how you all fit together yet.”

  He grinned wickedly. His hand slid a little way up her calf. Her skin tingled at the brush of his fingers, the breadth of his palm.

  “I fit fine where I am now.”

  Her breath caught. Oh.

  “Gin,” Allie said with satisfaction, spreading her cards on the carpet. “And serves you right, Uncle Alex, for not paying attention.”

  Tess laughed.

  Faye adjusted the long folds of her skirt.

  “You cheated,” Aleksy said without heat.

  Jarek studied the hand laid out on the floor. “Nope. She’s got you.”

  Allie bounced to her knees and brushed the cards together. “Want to play again?”

  Aleksy pretended to scowl. “Don’t you have to go cook dinner or something?”

  “No. It’s Tess’s turn tonight.”

  “Swell.”

  The girl’s brows drew together. “She made paprikas. Baba taught her. It’s good.”

  Her solemn defense of her future stepmother touched Faye. It had some effect on Aleksy, too, because he flicked her nose and said, “I bet you’re right.”

  Tess uncurled from the couch. “Speaking of dinner, I should go stir the pot. Want to come?”

  Faye almost stood before she realized the question was directed at Allie.

  “Eric, you and I will set the table,” Mary said firmly, and led her husband from the room.

  Aleksy watched them all leave. And then his head swiveled toward his brother. “What did you get on the boat?”

  Faye’s stomach jerked and clenched. She was still enjoying the illusion of family dinner, the solid feel of Aleksy’s back against her legs, the kiss of his hair against her arm. She didn’t want to be reminded it was all an act.

  But her mild-mannered host wore his police chief face, cool and focused.

  “It doesn’t belong to your suspect. In fact, that boat doesn’t belong to any of the residents on the lake. Which doesn’t rule out the possibility that some innocent boat headed from Chicago hauled it up for the weekend.”

  “Except that a weekend sailor wouldn’t have any reason to break into Faye’s cottage and steal her painting and photographs.”

  Jarek smiled thinly. “Maybe not. I checked with the manufacturer in North Carolina. The majority of their sales are along the east coast. There is no Great Lakes distributor. Which means anyone around here with a Parker Pilothouse bought it used or got it direct from the manufacturer.”

  Aleksy’s head came up. “How far back do they keep sales records?”

  “Thirty years,” Jarek said with satisfaction. “As long as they’ve been in the business.”

  “Okay. You’ve got something. Let’s have it.”

  “Now?” Jarek looked at Faye. “You sure you don’t want to talk about this later?”

  Later, as in not in front of her.

  Faye picked up her wineglass. “I think I’ll see if they need help in the kitchen.”

  Aleksy’s hand tightened around her ankle. “It’s okay. Who bought the boat?”

  “There’s no evidence that it’s the same boat. But Parker has records of a sale made to a buyer in Toronto four years ago.”

  Aleksy’s eyes narrowed. “What buyer?”

  “Later for that.”

  The two men exchanged another glance.

  “Right,” said Aleksy. “Tell me how a boat from Toronto ends up on a lake in Illinois.”

  “Well, it could have changed hands in a private sale.”

  “That’s no help.”

  “Or the owner could have sailed from Lake Huron into Lake Michigan through the Straits of Mackinac—”

  “Under the nose of the Coast Guard?”

  “I’ve been told it could be done. In a small, fast boat.”

  “Like the Parker Pilothouse.”

  Jarek nodded. “For example. Anyway, from Lake Michigan, the owner could strike directly for Chicago. Or head south. There are a couple of man-made water diversions there connecting the lake with the Des Plaines and Mississippi rive
rs. Or he could take his boat upstream on the Jordan River.”

  “Which goes where?”

  Jarek smiled tightly. “Here.”

  “Then we have our connection,” Aleksy said.

  “Not quite,” Jarek said. “I checked with the Coast Guard and the bureau’s field office. Without a registration number, we don’t have probable cause linking this boat to the buyer in Toronto. And without the photographs, there’s no proof that it was ever even here.”

  Faye fought a shiver. “Unless he comes back.”

  Jarek spared her a brief, sympathetic glance. “Unless he comes back and we can prove he isn’t here on legitimate business.”

  Aleksy’s face was grim. His voice was hard. “Oh, I’ll get proof,” he said.

  “Be careful how,” Jarek warned. “You don’t have a warrant. It’s not even your—” A glance from Aleksy silenced him.

  Faye’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass. Not even his what?

  “Can you get evidence without a warrant?” she asked.

  Aleksy shrugged. “You can get anything you want. Whether you can use it is something else.”

  “Fruit of the poison tree,” Jarek murmured.

  She didn’t understand them. She didn’t even speak the same language. “What fruit? What tree?”

  “If an investigating officer violates procedure, the evidence he obtains can be ruled inadmissible by the court,” Aleksy explained.

  She nodded to show she understood. “So what will you do?”

  “Well.” He hesitated. “If somebody not directly connected with the investigation—call him a concerned citizen—obtained the same evidence and passed it—anonymously, of course—to the investigating officer, that would probably provide sufficient grounds for the investigators to get a federal search warrant.”

  “And how would the concerned citizen do that?”

  Aleksy’s gaze flickered. “He’d stick tight and hope for a break.”

  “Stick tight where?”

  “He’d need to stay close by. Somewhere he could keep an eye on things.”

  He meant, stay in the cottage.

  He meant, stay with her.

  Faye felt as if she stood at the edge of a very large cliff. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were cold.

  But instead of running for safety, she took another step toward the edge. “Then isn’t it lucky I have a spare bedroom,” she said.