He stood, his long body gracefully lifting from the chair, and the girlie parts went wild.
He wandered to her, set his hands on her shoulders and unleashed a crooked smile. “With the way I feel about you, you should be nervous.”
And, oh, that was a great line. At least to her. She so adored a man who knew what he wanted. He had to be a Scorpio. Had to be. He possessed a detached cool, but she imagined an inferno under his skin. One she all of a sudden wanted to reveal because he was never quite what she expected.
And wasn’t that the thing she feared most? The not knowing? But with him, not knowing didn’t torment her. Didn’t knock her off her axis.
“How about,” he said, “I promise not to hit on you?”
That made her laugh, a good, solid laugh that came right from her belly and felt so good after her crazy couple of days. “How very gracious of you.”
“I’m trying here. Let’s go inside. I won’t even sit on the couch with you. I’ll sit in the chair and you can take the couch. Or we’ll slide the two chairs in front of the fireplace. I’ve never done that and it sounds kinda cool.”
That it did. She backed out of his grasp toward the door. “I like that idea. Talking would be nice. Getting to know you would be nice.”
“Oh, hey, I didn’t say anything about talking.”
* * *
DAVID FOLLOWED AMANDA into his mother’s guest room. His mother’s guest room. He’d just keep reminding himself of that fact because—yeah—his parents’ bedroom was just below them and he’d never had sex in their house. Not even as a horny teenager. Never. His mother knew everything. She didn’t even need cameras. Her intuition told her all she needed to know. Pure psychic ability.
Amanda closed the door behind him and as he headed toward the sitting area, he glanced at the bed, covers on the right side thrown back. A right-side sleeper. Interesting. He favored the left. How convenient.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Or should you be telling me that, since it’s your home?”
“Technically, it’s not my home. I’m a squatter until the condo is ready.”
Before sitting, he went to the fireplace and flipped the switch on the wall. The flames ignited, softly illuminating the room. In a few minutes the heat would be too much and he’d shut it off. Couple that with the heat between him and Amanda, and he might be toast. Charred good.
He glanced at the bed again on his way to the chair he’d promised he’d sit in, and a vision of her spread across it, bare-butt naked, popped into his head. Hey, he was a man and men had impure thoughts. Sue him. Or sue his penis because that bad boy was definitely coming to life.
Grunting, he dropped into the chair and rested his head back. High-backed chairs were underrated. He hated those low ones he couldn’t lean his head against. These chairs? Perfect.
“It’s a great place to squat. It must have been nice growing up here. I’d have loved all this open space.”
“We didn’t move here until I was fifteen. We lived downtown before that. The place was barely bigger than a bungalow and Zac and I shared a bedroom. Coming here was a major shock.” He laughed and shook his head. “For the first month Penny was terrified. She was used to her small room and us all being within spitting distance. Being in a room three times the size of her old one spooked her.”
“Really? You’d think she’d have loved it.”
“Nah. She’d sneak into either Zac’s room or mine and sleep on the floor. I don’t know how he did it, but eventually my dad convinced her she’d be safe in her room. Sometimes I miss our old house.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Liar. He knew exactly why. Realized it years ago, but had never, not once, admitted it to anyone. “Life was simpler then. My dad’s career took off the year before they built this house. One case and his career exploded. After that, things changed. He had more responsibilities, my mom had functions and everyone seemed to be running all over. I missed the nights where everyone was home. Penny and I had always fought. She was my pain-in-the-butt little sister, but after that one case, it got worse.”
“Do you remember the case?”
He’d never forget it. “The Deville case. A supposedly impossible murder case to win. But my father loves the unwinnable ones. I chose civil over criminal law because of the Devilles.”
“Why? Was the person guilty?”
“I think so. And my dad got an NG—not guilty.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. The kid who was on trial was nineteen. He was accused of murdering his parents. The night of the murder he was pulled over. The cop suspected he was high and asked if he could search the car. The kid was stoned, so he agreed. While searching the trunk, the cop found a bag. Inside the bag was a bloody knife.”
“The murder weapon?”
“No doubt. And my dad got it thrown out.”
Amanda sucked in a huge breath. He knew how she felt. Horrified, awed and confused. All at the same time. Welcome to the world of Gerald Hennings and family.
“How did he do that?”
“The cop asked to search the car, not the contents of the car. My dad argued that the kid’s consent didn’t include searching the bag. The bag was content and therefore outside the scope of consent. The trial court agreed. It went to the appeals courts and they also agreed. If I’d been the prosecutor, I’d have taken it to the Supreme Court. Any reasonable person would believe consent included the items inside the vehicle. Anyway, when the knife got suppressed, the state’s case fell apart. Whatever was left of their case, my dad carved to pieces. He’s brilliant at what he does.”
“But a murderer went free.”
“Probably. I was too young to get it at the time, but when I was in high school, thinking about law school, I studied my dad’s cases. And that one bugged me. I asked him if he thought the kid was guilty and if so, why he took the case.”
“What did he say?”
“He said people were entitled to have their rights protected. His job was to do that. His job wasn’t to decide guilt or innocence or which rights should be protected and when. He didn’t have that luxury. The cop didn’t have permission to search the bag. The kid’s rights were violated. Period.”
“In an odd way, it makes sense.”
“Intellectually speaking, yes, it does. But because of that, a murderer is walking around. And he inherited his parents’ estate. A very large one.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. My dad and Penny love the war of defense work. It’s an intellectual battle for them. Me? I’m an intellectual, but I can’t stomach murderers walking. My father still doesn’t understand that about me. And it took a long time for him to accept that I wouldn’t be his right hand at the firm.” He snorted. “And then Zac decided to be a prosecutor and I thought my father would go insane.”
“That left Penny.”
“She was all in. Still is. She loves it. Thrives on it, actually.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Immensely.” He winced. Damn, Dave, way to sound like a jerk. “Hang on. No. I spoke too fast. Her thriving at the firm doesn’t bother me. Her working for my dad became a pawn in our battle and I hate that. She throws shade because I’m not a criminal attorney. It translates to me disappointing my dad when she didn’t.”
“That’s a little harsh. Have you talked to her about it? Called her out?”
“Not reasonably. Usually we’re screaming at each other. All I know is I need it to stop.” He glanced around the room, took it in. “I’d like us to go back to being the family we were before this house. Before the Deville case put me on a different path. That’s why I came home. I’m sick of being on my own and I want my sister back.”
Amanda nodded. “I hope you get that. I’d hate for the two of you to not work this out. Thin
gs in life can change quickly. And forever.”
“Like with your mom?”
She nodded. “I’ll never recover from that. And I’ll always have regrets.” She sat forward and set her hand on his knee. “Don’t have regrets. It’s horrible.”
He stared down at her hand on his knee, and the air in the room got thick, unbreathable. But he kept his gaze glued to her hand. If he looked up, into her eyes, he’d break that promise of not hitting on her. Because all he wanted right now was to hit on her. To kiss her. To get her into that giant bed behind them and show her all the things he’d like to do to her. On an ongoing basis.
“Amanda?”
“Yes?”
“If you don’t move that hand, I’m throwing my promise out.” He smiled. “I’ll suppress it. Somehow I’ll argue that you’ve violated my constitutional rights.”
Wisely, she snatched her hand back, but she laughed at his corny joke while doing it. “You’re a good man, David. I don’t know what I’d have done without you these last couple of days.”
“It’s what we Hennings people do.” And that meant keeping his word by walking back to his room because Amanda LeBlanc wasn’t ready for him. Not yet at least. He stood and lightly clapped his hands together. “Now I’m leaving.”
She nodded, then stood. Coming closer, then going up on her tiptoes, she kissed him. A peck. Barely a peck. But enough to send the message that maybe, just maybe, next time she wouldn’t be so nervous about inviting him into her room.
* * *
AMANDA WANDERED INTO the kitchen just after 7:00 a.m., her eyes a little puffy—totally his fault, thank you very much—but she looked amazing in a pair of skintight dark-washed jeans and a lightweight sweater that clung to every place he’d dreamed of touching the night before.
She eyed his steaming mug of coffee and he held it out. “Want it?”
“No, thank you. Tea maybe.”
He’d like to take a chance on pulling her onto his lap, see how she’d respond, but chances were his mother would show up any second.
But those jeans...
To heck with it. As soon as she got within arm’s length, he hooked his finger into her belt loop and guided her to his lap, where, yes, he had a boner. A good healthy one just from thinking about touching her.
That should have been cause for embarrassment, but...nah. It wouldn’t kill her to know he wanted her. He’d probably made that fairly clear already.
She ran her hand over the side of his face and down his beard, where the friction did nothing to alleviate his current state. “This is nice.”
“Not a bad way to start the day, if you ask me. What’s your schedule today?”
“In spite of the chaos, I have a business to run. I need to head over to my storage facility and pick out a painting for Mrs. Dyce’s youth center.”
“She called you?”
“She did. Yesterday. I think I have something she’ll like. I told her I’d run it by there tomorrow. Wanna come with me to the storage unit? You might be able to tell if she’ll like what I pick out.”
“Absolutely.” He patted the upper part of her rear. “I’ll get you that cup of tea.”
She hopped off his lap and followed him to the cabinet where his mom stored all the makings for tea. She had all kinds of stuff in there. Stuff he had no clue what to do with. All he knew was none of it resembled tea bags.
“What’s wrong with plain old tea bags?”
Amanda laughed. “Nothing. Some people, like me, do it themselves. I’ll take care of it.”
Even better. “Go to it. Use whatever you need. I gotta run. I’m meeting Penny’s investigator.”
“Jenna, right? She’s the sister of Lexi’s boyfriend.”
“That’s right. She found three people in Cook County who own a blue Chevy Impala from the eighties. We’re gonna scope it out. See if we can find the right car.”
“You’ll recognize it?”
“I think so. The one from yesterday was missing a rear hubcap. You stay here until I get back. Shouldn’t be long.”
She stopped messing with the tea and faced him. “Uh, no.”
“What no?”
“I’m not staying here and doing nothing, David. Not when I have things to do. Either I’ll go with you or you drop me at the condo so I can pick up my car. While you’re with Jenna, I’ll run to the storage unit and pick up the painting.”
His brain might not have kicked into high gear yet, but hadn’t they just, as in thirty seconds ago, decided he’d go with her to the storage unit? “I’ll help you with the painting. Don’t worry about it.”
Whatever he’d said fired her up because her beautiful brown eyes nearly severed his cojones.
“Listen,” she said. “I get what you’re doing here. And I love that you want to take care of me.”
“But?”
“No but. Let’s say and. I love that you want to take care of me and you need to know that I thrive on routine. None of which I’ve had in the last few days. Part of my routine is going to my storage unit when necessary.”
He leaned into the counter and folded his arms. “I understand that. Except, as you said, none of this has been routine. Don’t you think it would be wise to take precautions? Like maybe not going places alone?”
“Well...yes...but...”
He shrugged. “What?”
“I don’t want you ordering me around.”
Ordering. Her. Around.
It took everything he had, every ounce, every gram, for crying out loud, not to blow his stack. Was she serious with that? He’d spent days trying to help her, and this was what he got?
Here we go. The old David, Boston David, would have lost it and started yelling. This David, the new, improved one, was damned sure not going to do that. Not in front of her anyway. As soon as he got someplace private, he’d let loose. No harm in that.
For now, he laughed, ran his hands over his face and sighed. And here he thought making nice with Penny would be hard.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing. Believe me. Nothing.” He blew out a breath, folded his arms again, thought better of the body language that conveyed and dropped them. Concentrate. This conversation would require a balancing act. One slip and he’d fall right off the edge. Destroy the great start to the day. “Amanda, I’m not trying to order you around. Honestly. Maybe I got ahead of myself. I saw the text from Jenna and figured we could jump on finding this car. Then when McCall gets back to you, if we have something to pass along, maybe we can have him run it down. That’s all I’m saying.”
He wanted to add that if she felt going to her storage unit was more important, by all means, they should absolutely do that. And then he’d find the sharpest knife in this kitchen and plunge it into his own heart.
With his rotten luck, he’d survive.
“I know you think it’s dumb. I can see that. But I’ve spent my life figuring out how to stay emotionally healthy. Part of that is taking care of myself, not depending on anyone or anything to make me happy. It’s been years of learning how to not turn into my mother. Part of that is sticking to a routine. You can’t come in and decide you’re taking over. That’s all I’m saying.”
She turned back to the container with the tea, shoveled some into a glass pot, then slapped the spoon down. He wouldn’t call it a slam, but it wasn’t gentle, either.
And, holy hell, that snit was hot. Sick, he knew, but calm, cool Amanda had a temper buried inside her. Good to see.
He held up his hands. He didn’t completely understand what they were fighting about—nothing new in his life—because all he was doing was trying to keep her safe, but at least she was honest.
“I apologize,” he said. “I didn’t mean to take over. I jumped on an opportunity to get something done. I
do that. So, how about we hunt down this car with Jenna and then go to your storage unit? We’ll do it together.”
When she didn’t respond, he moved closer, set his hands on her shoulders and kissed the back of her head. “I’m sorry.”
Under his hands, the tension in her shoulders eased.
She dropped her head an inch. “Thank you. I’m not easy, David. I’ll probably make you crazy before this is over. But I know what I need.”
“Well,” he said, “I guess we’re perfect for each other because I’m not easy, either. We’ll figure it out.” He snorted. “Just have patience.”
She tipped back a bit, rested her head against his chest and pulled his arms around the front of her. “I will. You, too. After I make my tea, we’ll go find that car.”
* * *
“THAT’S IT,” DAVID SAID.
He pumped a fist and Amanda breathed in. For close to two hours they’d been cruising the city checking addresses where they might find a 1985 Chevy Impala with a missing hubcap. On the third try, they’d apparently found it, and Amanda’s excitement over their success mixed with a creepy feeling of dread. What were they doing? After the break-in last night, they shouldn’t be here. Detective McCall should be here.
David angled back to Jenna, who peered out the rear driver’s side window. “That’s the car.”
The car sat wedged between two others in a line that spanned the short block. A car cruised by, constituting the only traffic. Narrow alleys separated the homes, and Amanda focused on the brick-faced bungalow in Jenna’s path. A collapsing chain-link fence guarded the home. In this neighborhood bullets probably flew by that fence on a regular basis. The boarded-up home to its right might have been evidence of that. Just being here made the muscles in her neck bunch. Local gang shootings were a weekly—if not more often—occurrence and despite the quiet street, the energy pulsed and throbbed with an unspoken threat of an eruption.
Amanda scooted forward to see around David, and the morning sunshine coming through the windshield warmed the side of her face. “Are you sure?”
“Unless there are multiple 1985 blue Impalas with a missing left hubcap, yeah, I’m sure.”
The Rebel Page 12
