by Debra Webb
He leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. As she watched, her heart hammering against her sternum, he carefully cleaned each lens with a handkerchief from his jacket pocket before he responded. “I certainly empathize with your position. To be quite frank, Ms. Barton, our company prefers the fresh, aggressive new graduates for our entry level positions, if you get my meaning.”
Julie wilted. She got his meaning all right. It was remarkably simple. She was not what they were looking for. The rest of the conversation was lost on her. She was too busy struggling to accept another rejection. Mr. Preston showed her to the elevator and Mr. Ritter met her in the lobby on the first floor to see her out.
And that was that.
Moving on autopilot with her stomach hovering somewhere in the vicinity of her shoes, Julie climbed into the old Buick and slammed the door. Three tries were required to get the dilapidated door to stay closed. She shoved the keys into the ignition and fired up the engine.
She didn’t get the job.
Under experienced.
Overqualified.
Screwed.
She stomped on the gas pedal and the Buick rocketed into the street. The unexpected lunge flung her back against the seat, but an abrupt stop sent her hurling forward. Only her firm grip on the steering wheel kept her head from banging the windshield as the crunch of metal registered in her brain.
A car.
Red.
Sporty.
“Oh, hell,” she hissed, dread expanding in her chest. She’d rear-ended a shiny red sports car. Her eyes widened when a tall, broad-shouldered man climbed out of the Mustang. Just her luck.
Swallowing back her apprehension, Julie shoved the gearshift into Park and scrambled out of the Buick. Her legs felt rubbery beneath her. “I’m so sorry,” she offered, her voice climbing toward hysteria. “I... I’m not used to driving this car.”
Mrs. Deerman’s words about the hair trigger accelerator rang in her ears. Her gaze swung to the front end of her neighbor’s car and relief rushed through her. Thank God there was no damage. The damn thing was like a tank.
When her attention landed on the other vehicle, a groan escaped her lips. The car looked brand new and the rear bumper was smashed. What a mess!
“My sentiments exactly,” the man said. He fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I’ll get a traffic cop over here so we can get a report.”
“No!”
His hand stalled halfway to its destination, he stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“I mean...” She moistened her lips and struggled to steady herself. “There’s no need to call the police.” She made a pathetic sound that was meant to be a laugh. “You give me your name and number and I’ll give you mine. I’d prefer to keep this between us.” She cleared her throat and gestured to his car. “I’ll pay for the damages.”
The deep, chocolate brown gaze belonging to the man towering over her narrowed suspiciously. He had nice eyes, she thought before she could shake off the silly notion. Nice, but still suspicious.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Nice voice, too. Deep, smooth. Sexy. Julie blinked and gave herself another mental shake. This ridiculous reaction had to be shock. She was on the verge of divorce, couldn’t get a job, and she’d just damaged the man’s car. Worse, she had no idea if she even still had insurance.
The urge to cry hit her hard. She blinked it back, determined to avoid further humiliation. “Please, I don’t want to involve the police or insurance companies. I’ll take care of everything.”
He scratched his head, drawing her attention to hair that was thick and dark. Great hair. She cringed. Why did she keeping doing that? Focus, she ordered, battling the dizzying emotions whirling inside her head.
“This looks expensive,” he said as he studied the rear end of his no doubt fully equipped Mustang. “I think we should play this by the book.”
Damn it! She didn’t want her name on any kind of negative reports until the divorce was over. The Bartons were well connected. Austin would use anything he could find against her. She peered up into the man’s face—such a handsome face. Good Lord. She was hopeless. “Look, mister, give me a break here, would you? I’ll pay for the damages. You have my word. I just don’t want to involve the cops.”
One dark eyebrow arched skeptically above the other as a droll smile rolled over his lips. “Lady, I am a cop.”
Chapter Three
Technically Blake should go ahead and call Traffic, but then the strategic maneuver he’d made would be for nothing beyond a few minutes of information exchange in the hot Alabama sun. He needed more than that.
A lot more.
“You’re... you’re a cop?” she stammered, those clear blue eyes wide with defeat.
He shifted his suit jacket aside and let her see the shield clipped to his waist right next to his service revolver. Her quickly indrawn breath told him he’d made his point.
“Detective Blake Duncan. What’s your name?” he asked, drawing her gaze back to his. Damn if she wasn’t even more gorgeous up close. The feminine peachy colored suit and the snippet of lace peeking from above the top button of her jacket made him think of rumpled sheets and hot, sweaty sex. She had great legs and silky blonde hair to boot, but it was the whole package that made her unforgettable.
All of this he had first catalogued nearly a year ago when he’d noticed her at one of Randall Barton’s elaborate fundraisers. Julie Barton was the arm candy wife of Randall’s younger and only brother Austin. Blake had considered her just another acquisition Barton money had bought. Yet, he’d found himself watching her every chance he got. The way she shoved her hair behind her ears when she was frustrated. The way she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous. He’d watched her take morning runs and shop at the city’s most expensive department stores. She’d given the appearance of any other Mobile socialite—until he glimpsed her helping in the gardens around the mansion her husband owned and giving those fancy packages she purchased on her shopping sprees to members of the household staff. He’d even seen her cleaning windows once.
Julie Barton was… confusing and unsettling. He’d had to stop watching her when the sexual fantasies started. He’d dreamed of running his fingers through all that silky hair and over that perfectly toned body. He’d longed to kiss those luscious lips.
He’d had to stop.
Unfortunately, everything had changed now. Randall Barton had picked up on what Blake was up to and he’d put him on notice. Blake understood where he stood. If he got too close to Randall again, he would lose his position in the department.
He couldn’t let that happen anymore than he could give up his quest to see his brother’s murderer brought to justice. All he needed was another route. He didn’t remember making the decision to hit his brakes just as she barreled into traffic this morning, yet the idea had formed in his brain and apparently his right foot had reacted.
He’d stopped. She couldn’t have prevented hitting him if her life had depended on it. If she weren’t so upset, she might realize she’d been set up. Guilt nudged him. He ignored it.
Whatever it takes.
“Julie,” she said quickly. “Julie Barton.” She started to dig around in her purse. “I can give you my address and phone number. I’m over on Sullivan Avenue. Royal Court Apartments.”
A different kind of tension ratcheted up inside Blake. No way would any of the Bartons be caught dead in a place like Royal Court. He knew the area. When had Austin Barton’s wife relocated from his Mobile Bay mansion?
“You get the estimate for damages and I’ll take care of it,” she said, dragging him back to the moment. “I... I really don’t need the hassle with the police.” She looked up at him, her pretty face full of worry. “I mean, I don’t want my insurance rate to go up.” She smiled, but the effort didn’t reach her eyes. “This is my first accident and I don’t want the bad mark on my record.”
Blake sighed loud
enough for her to get the impression he was doing her a favor and dropped his phone back into his pocket. Might as well put her out of her of misery before she worked herself into tears. A weepy female was something he just couldn’t take. He supposed that’s what happened when a guy grew up with three older sisters and one baby brother. He learned firsthand exactly how well women could use those tears. Tears or no tears, he wouldn’t trust this woman as far as he could toss that old Buick she was driving. Didn’t she have a Jag?
“All right,” he relented. The lady didn’t have a job other than warming Barton’s bed. Still, for the purposes of his cover, he added, “I’ll need your work number, too.”
As if he’d just informed her she was under arrest, she bit down on her lower lip and those incredible blue eyes grew shiny with emotion. Oh hell. She was going to cry.
“I’m...” She swallowed tightly. For a second, he was completely mesmerized by the movement of delicate muscle beneath satiny skin. “I’m between jobs right now. But don’t worry. I will take care of the damages. You have my word.”
He nodded as if he understood despite being completely confused. “Fine.” Dipping into the interior pocket of his jacket, he withdrew a business card. “Here’s my number. I’ll give you a call as soon as I have an estimate.” He passed her the card.
She nodded and dropped the card into her purse. She fished around in her designer bag and drew out a pen and a Walmart receipt. She jotted her information on the back of the receipt and thrust it at him. “I really appreciate you helping me out, Detective.”
“Protect and serve. That’s what we do.”
To his surprise, she smiled and her eyes sparkled. “Thanks for putting a good spin on a crappy morning.”
She really was gorgeous when she smiled like that. Damn. He gave himself a mental shake. Julie Barton wasn’t the only one who’d had a crappy morning.
“Have a good day, Ms. Barton.” He looked from her to his rear bumper and back. “I’ll be in touch.”
Julie watched Detective Duncan fold his tall, lean frame into his hot sports car before she climbed back into the ancient Buick. Thank God he’d agreed to keep the accident between them. Dread pooled in her belly all over again. If Austin had taken her off his policy already, she was without insurance. Did they put people in jail for driving without insurance? At the very least, she could lose her license.
She sighed, weary and disgusted. How was she ever going to get her life back on track? A decent place to live, automobile insurance, a job. What about health insurance? She didn’t even have any life insurance. If she died right now, how would she be buried?
Shaking off the depressing thoughts, she started the Buick and shoved it into Drive. Something from this morning’s classifieds suddenly bobbed to the surface of her whirling thoughts. There was one new listing for a position as a bank teller. It was worth a shot. What did she have to lose?
Two hours later Julie knew precisely what she had to lose. Every ounce of self-respect she had left.
Even with an MBA focused in accounting, she couldn’t get a job as a bank teller. How sad was that? She was willing to work, overqualified or not, and no one wanted her.
Disgusted with herself as well as her no-good husband, she parked in front of the one place where she knew her spirits would be boosted. Her best friend in the world since childhood, Marie Morrison, owned and operated, Midtown Marie’s, the sports bar that served everything from hot wings and beer to hot dogs and soft drinks. In the five years since she’d taken over the establishment, it had become one of Mobile’s favored spots for singles as well as the attached—mostly for those forty and under. Some form of sports television played on the numerous sets displayed throughout the crowded joint and sports memorabilia from local teams dominated the decor.
Julie sat in the old Buick for a few minutes before getting out. The urge to cry swept over her so forcefully, so brutally she scarcely suppressed the need. How could she be twenty-nine, well educated and have nothing?
Absolutely nothing.
She’d fallen in love with Austin Barton practically overnight. They’d met at a business exposition where Barton Brothers Industries, a shipping company, was recruiting MBA graduates. She’d actually gone out to dinner with his brother Randall first. Somehow, when she met Austin everything changed. She’d been swept off her feet... blown away. For a while she’d had everything. The fairytale life every little girl dreamed of. A home that looked like a castle, a Prince Charming for a husband—everything her heart desired.
Now that Julie thought about it, she realized that things had started to go wrong between them a year ago. Like his not coming home some nights. Work, he’d told her. She’d believed him. Their life together was perfect, why would he lie? Then, for the last six months they lived together he’d barely come home at all. They hadn’t had sex since Christmas. She’d spent far more time alone than with him. She’d started to get curious about what kept him at work such long hours so she’d followed him from time to time.
Big mistake. She’d discovered his rendezvous with other women. She’d overheard their titillating conversations when he thought she wasn’t home. As if all that weren’t bad enough, she’d found even more horrifying proof he wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be on his computer.
Julie shuddered when she thought of the list she’d found just days before the big confrontation that had heralded the end of their relationship. She’d intended to peruse his email and browser history. A file on his desktop had been left open so she’d had a look. Twelve names, all prominent figures in state or local politics. The list itself shouldn’t have made her uneasy in any way for that matter, except she’d watched the news. The first two were recently deceased, one in a car accident, the other a slip and fall in his shower. Both were big players in the fight to stamp out organized crime along the Gulf Coast. Still, she’d had no real evidence that their deaths were connected to her husband. Then the third man named on this list had died in a fall down the stairs of his home. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten suspicious even then except that same night she’d overheard a telephone conversation. Her husband had assured the caller that the third issue had been resolved. He went on to say he felt confident the ‘rest’ would fall into line.
Instinct had told her the conversation and the list were connected. As soon as she had an opportunity, she had downloaded the file to a jump drive. The pages of what appeared to be some sort of ledger meant nothing to her, though she had recognized some of the names as her husband’s friends.
A shiver raced over her skin. Surely the man she’d married and lived with for more than three years wasn’t involved in murder. As much as she hated him at this moment and despised the way he’d lied to her and cheated on her for months, she simply couldn’t believe he would commit cold-blooded murder.
Whether he killed anyone or not, he was involved somehow. She’d packed a bag and moved out. By noon the next day, she had been served with divorce papers and was locked out of his house. He’d taken her off all credit cards and bank accounts within twenty-four hours. Though she hated this helpless feeling with her life so out of control, the divorce was inevitable.
She would get through this. All she had to do was find a job. Earning a paycheck would be the beginning of her journey toward self-sufficiency. A decent attorney would be nice as well, but so far every last one she’d contacted had turned her down. No one in Baldwin County wanted to go up against Austin Barton. Not that she could blame them. She didn’t even want to go up against him, but she had no choice if she wanted to walk away from this marriage with anything other than the clothes on her back.
Enough feeling sorry for yourself, Jules.
As she pushed it open, the Buick’s door whined. A blast of southern Alabama humidity greeted her. The Buick might not be much to look at but it had a kick-butt air conditioning system. Swiping a bead of sweat from her forehead, she made her way to Marie’s sports bar. The midtown location was prime for good business.
In the heart of Mobile’s historic downtown area, it was convenient for a quick lunch, after work drinks, or a night on the town with friends.
Not that Julie went out that much, hardly ever in fact. Occasionally when Austin was out of town she’d come over and have dinner with Marie. They’d been best friends since grade school. When Julie had gone off to college in Birmingham, Marie had married her high school sweetheart. Marie had lived through those horrible days with Julie after she’d lost her parents during grad school. With no other family, she’d had no one to turn to except Marie. They’d always been like sisters and had grown even closer since Julie moved to Mobile after graduation.
Thinking back, maybe she’d fallen so fast and hard for Austin because she’d longed to have a family again. Too bad a family had been the last thing on his mind. He’d simply wanted a young, attractive woman on his arm. Apparently, now that Julie was nearing the big 3-0 she no longer fit the bill. His new girlfriend was only twenty-one and named Barbie. Julie gritted her teeth at the thought of the big-bosomed bitch who’d clearly had serious work done in an attempt to look exactly like a real life Barbie doll.
She rolled her eyes. She did not want to think about this right now.
Inside, the bar was filled to capacity with the late lunch crowd. Julie squeezed her way through the throng until she reached the bar. The layout of the place gave it extra appeal in Julie’s opinion. It was huge, for one thing. The latest chart toppers played in the background while television sets hanging from the ceiling flashed with action packed scenes from whatever games were in season. Booths and tables filled the room.
She slid onto a stool at the bar and waited for Marie to notice her presence. Marie looked damn good for a woman who had been married multiple times and produced two children—all by the ripe old age of twenty-nine. Julie smiled. She did so love her friend and the thought of those cute kids made her seriously jealous.
