‘Like I said I want to go under the radar, and it’s important.’
When he took his attention from the check their eyes locked and she didn’t blink. The tip of her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, her shoulder came up as her head tilted, and he had to grit his teeth against the pain in his jeans at that innocent little expression. Had she ever been taken? A woman like her couldn’t be real; she sure wasn’t like the women he was used to. Those women knew what they were, and how to use their sexuality to their advantage, which worked for him because he got off, and didn’t feel guilty about not calling the next day. Both parties knew what they were getting into. Either this woman in front of him now took a different angle completely and did it to leave men like him panting like desperate dogs – or she had no idea how luscious she was.
‘If it’s not about money, it’s about sex,’ Ryder said unable to stop himself from watching her mouth when her lips parted, then she wriggled in her seat – Jesus this woman was going to have him shooting his load in his underwear if she moved again. A man couldn’t be with a woman like this, she didn’t sit still, her eyes, her mouth, her neck, her body loosened, and he had another first – he wished he was that goddamn chair. ‘He’s your boyfriend.’
Words were on the tip of her tongue but she held them in. A curious frown flashed to her face only to be erased when her eyes rolled upward while her lips moved silently, and then they fell back to his.
‘You could say that,’ she said.
‘This guy ran out on you?’
‘Mr Sheppard I appreciate that we’re acquainted by proxy but it’s a very difficult situation to explain.’
‘Acquainted by proxy,’ he said reminding himself of what she’d said about the referral.
‘I do hope that your break up won’t flavour your angle on this case.’
‘My break up.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I told you that Sorcha referred me.’
‘Sorcha,’ he said wondering when he’d become a parrot.
‘She is very sorry about the way things ended between you.’
‘Sorcha.’
‘Yes, Sorcha Reynolds... she assured me that you would be fair, and I would hope that the fee would settle any misgivings you might have about working on my behalf through Sorcha’s referral. ’
Again Ryder found himself reading the zeroes on the check she’d passed to him. ‘Will Sorcha be involved in this case?’ he asked.
‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘No. She’ll stay far away from this. She’s on vacation at the moment, she left just this morning.’
Ryder would hate to see these zeroes in Sheppard’s bank account but Shep would take it willingly, and probably do his best to sample this delectable client at the same time despite the previous relationship with her friend. Ryder couldn’t refuse her because if he did the chances were that she would show up on his actual doorstep, and he didn’t want her to know that he was in Sheppard’s place unlawfully. What choice did he have? This woman needed honesty and guidance that Sheppard would give for an overinflated price; and while pawing her.
Ryder had no intention of ever cashing the check, chances were that a quick computer search would locate this guy for her but he folded it in half, and slid it into his back pocket as he stood up. She fumbled with her bag then stood up too. Five seven he decided but hadn’t noticed if she was wearing heels. At six two he was used to towering over women but by itself height difference didn’t usually prompt feelings of protectiveness in him. Usually he’d prefer his women taller. But this woman made him want to tuck her in close, and keep her there for as long as he could.
‘We’re having a problem with our phone connection,’ he said. ‘It means our phones and our internet are down. Do you have a pen?’ She nodded and took a pen and a receipt from her bag, which she then handed to him. He tore it in two and wrote down his cell number then handed it all back to her. ‘Write down your number.’
She nodded, and scribbled it down giving him the slip with the number, and then putting her pen and his number in her bag. ‘You’ll call me?’
‘As soon as I have something,’ he said. ‘One more thing, what’s your name?’
‘Lacie,’ she said. ‘Lacie Hart.’
‘It’s a pleasure,’ he said extending his hand.
Immediately he wanted to take it back because she tilted her head to the side like a confused puppy. Then her hand leapt to his and before he’d curled all his fingers around hers his dick pulsed again. Chastising himself for the reaction to the simple touch he wasn’t ready for the moment their eyes met, and neither was she.
A heat zinged through him and their hands sprang apart; obviously, she’d felt it and been as unsettled as he had.
‘Miss Hart,’ he said pressing his hand to his chest to quell his urge to grab hold of her.
‘Mr Sheppard,’ she said.
She thought he was Shep, he’d forgotten about that, and if that zap was anything to go by this sensation wouldn’t disappear in a hurry... He’d known her five minutes and he was in deep already. This ought to be interesting.
Drying her hands on a towel Lacie was satisfied that her heart rate had returned to normal. After that meeting with Sheppard earlier she had come home, taken a shower, and worked. She worked to forget the chemical reaction that fizzed in her belly from the moment those dark eyes had leapt to hers when she entered the office. He’d seemed uneasy, but confident; he was cool but aware... But, that wasn’t what made her fizz. That was the heat in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated desire though his voice hadn’t spoken of it; somehow she’d known what was on his mind, which was unusual – normally she had no idea what was going on in the head of a man.
Under normal circumstances, she’d have been anxious at such an understanding, but this time it was different. This time she was disgusted with her own body’s reaction to the knowledge of his longing. Part of her wanted to skirt that desk, straddle his lap, and let actions say what words didn’t. In her entire life she had never been bold, and she’d certainly never wondered what a stranger would look like naked, and if he would let her touch, to trace the lines of him with her vocational fingertips.
Throwing the towel to the back of the couch, she drove her fists into her eyes trying to erase her own traitorous libido. For months, she hadn’t been with a man... maybe years. It had been so long she could only vaguely remember the sensation of impotent frustration as her lover grunted and rutted over her for those few minutes before he collapsed to a heap at her side. She hadn’t made a sound, and he hadn’t noticed.
Sorcha had told her that Sheppard was good looking, but Lacie was used to good-looking men. She was used to men of flash, and no substance and Sorcha had told her how useless Sheppard was in bed so why was she thinking these thoughts? Sheppard was her friend’s ex-lover, Lacie would never go there not in a million years, and it made her feel sick at the thought of the comparison Sheppard would have to draw between her and Sorcha. If a man was used to prime venison like Sorcha he’d never be satisfied with the fast food burger Lacie would be in contrast – except she’d never go there. The unspoken code wouldn’t allow Lacie to lust for her best friend’s cast off, and she already knew that the man was shallow, and not at all her type. Yet, she closed her eyes again to relive that moment their eyes met over their joined hands. It was physical, visceral, and so much more intimate than a handshake, but she didn’t know what it was.
Sorcha was away, and would be until this was over. Sorcha had never been a good liar, and she wouldn’t want to be near her father, mother, or sister because she’d drop herself in it, no doubt about that.
Darkness formed around the grey clouds, and Lacie knew she should think about eating but the thought of anything made her stomach roil. Dropping to the floor she lay flat on her back dropping a hand over her eyes. She liked the floor, she liked firm, unyielding surfaces that offered security and stability. The squeal of her phone came from within her purse that lay only inches away so she reached over to
retrieve it.
‘Hello?’ she asked. She hadn’t recognised the number flashing on the screen.
‘Miss Hart,’ the male voice was deep and a shiver went down her spine. ‘I’m the investigator you spoke to this afternoon.’
‘Yes,’ she said annoyed that her thoughts had somehow conjured him. ‘That was very quick. Have you found him?’
‘I’ve got a couple of hits. But I can’t ID him. Do you have a picture that you could send me?’
‘A picture,’ she said lifting her torso to prop herself against the front of the couch. ‘If you give me the addresses I can check them out for myself.’
‘That’s not how this works,’ he said. His voice had gone from drilling her deep to making her lighted headed with the amusement that floated in his tone. ‘You gave me a very big check today. I intend to earn it.’
‘I don’t have a picture,’ she said. ‘Honestly, if you give me the addresses I can check them out, and if it’s not him then I’ll get in touch, and—‘
‘One address is relatively local,’ he said. ‘The other is not. I appreciate that you are hesitant to give me the details. But I would be uneasy about sending a woman such as yourself into unknown territory.’
‘Bruce isn’t violent,’ she said wondering what “a woman such as yourself” meant.
‘Not the one you know maybe,’ he said. ‘But I could be giving you dud addresses and maybe those Bruces’ aren’t as placid.’
‘That’s a point,’ she conceded. ‘Is it your plan to go there?’
‘To the addresses? Yes. But there’s no point in me staking them out when I don’t know who I’m looking at.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. There was no response. ‘We might not know each other very well but Sorcha trusts you and I have no reason not to. It’s about the only thing I can think that could solve the problem.’
‘This guy was your boyfriend?’
‘I can assure you that you’re not being drawn into a lovers tiff.’
‘That’s not what concerns me,’ he said.
‘So what are your concerns?’ she asked.
‘When can you leave?’
‘Ready when you are,’ she said.
‘I can pick you up if you give me your address.’
‘That is very generous of you. I could meet you at your office if—‘
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not at work. If you’re uncomfortable giving me your address—‘
‘It’s nothing like that. Sorcha trusts you. I just wouldn’t want you going out of your way on my behalf. If there are any expenses incurred—‘
‘I think your check today will cover everything. Give me your address.’ She did. ‘I’ll be fifteen minutes.’
Chapter Two
In fact he was nine minutes. The dark pick-up truck lumbered to the kerb and he got out but she was already running down the stairs from her communal entrance.
‘You’re on the ground floor,’ he said putting a hand to the small of her back to guide her towards the truck.
‘I would’ve thought you would drive something more inconspicuous.’
‘I go for comfort over discretion in cases like this. Space to stretch out can be an advantage.’
He helped her up into the cab then rounded for his own side. In all the time it took him to get in and get the engine going, she looked around in wonder. ‘This thing is huge.’
‘Size matters,’ he said giving her a wink then drawing out of the space. ‘So are you ready to tell me what this guy did to you yet?’ he asked when they stopped for the first light.
‘It’s not like that, it’s... complicated.’
‘It’s revenge or reconciliation,’ Ryder said. ‘They are the only two reasons a woman wants to go after an ex. Sometimes it’s compensation but most women let money stuff go, it’s the men who chase the woman for that.’
‘You must see everything in your line of work,’ she said. ‘It’s a fascinating insight to human character.’
‘Are you a psychologist or something?’
‘No,’ she said pushing her head back to the headrest only to find she barely reached it.
‘So what do you do?’
‘I’m a sculptor,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘Most people don’t understand it. I’ve been in love with shape, and form, and proportion all of my life. I like angles and curves, plains and ridges. Watching the clay take shape is what I love; it’s what I’ve always loved.’
‘You can’t make much money.’
‘Money isn’t everything Mr Sheppard,’ she said. ‘But, I’ve been lucky enough to draw some attention to my work. I’ve had a few wealthy patrons, and I have several commissions on going at the moment.’
‘So you don’t need compensation... is it revenge?’
‘Are my motives significant?’ she asked.
‘I don’t suppose they are.’
‘How long have you been doing this?’
‘A few years now,’ Ryder said.
‘Do you enjoy it?’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘I like a good puzzle.’
‘Who is your typical client?’
‘There isn’t such a thing,’ Ryder said. ‘We get all sorts. It’s one of the good things about this line of work – the variety. We get a lot of couples, one trying to catch the other out, looking for proof of infidelity.’
‘Do you enjoy those cases?’
‘I’m good at what I do which means I can pick and choose what cases I want to take. If I think something will go sour I can turn it away. I’m not interested in helping damage anyone. But if you’re doing something wrong it’s not my fault that you get caught, even if I am the one doing the catching.’
‘I can’t imagine that.’
‘What?’ he asked.
Lacie examined the dark sky around them. The jet-black vehicle they drove in pierced the ink of night – black chased black, perpetually enveloping and succumbing to each other.
‘Being in a marriage where one party has to go to a third party to seek fault,’ she said.
‘You’re a romantic?’
‘Oh no,’ she said her smile stretching automatically. When he glanced in her direction, the truck swerved out and her hands leapt for stability. His grip on the wheel tightened to bring them back into the correct lane. ‘Are you ok?’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked placing her hand to his bare forearm. A static sting zapped her and she snatched her hand away immediately.
‘You’re electric,’ he said keeping his focus on the road, his knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. ‘So if you’re not a romantic, what are you?’
‘I believe romance exists,’ she said. ‘Somewhere out there.’
‘Bruce doesn’t romance you?’
‘What about you?’ she asked deflecting his question.
‘Not much time for romance in my line of work.’
‘It’s sad isn’t it,’ she said. ‘The world we live in. Everyone’s so materialistic and practical we ignore our instincts.’
‘I believe in instinct. Instinct has kept me alive.’
‘Alive?’
‘Instinct is a requirement in the Marines.’
‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘Sorcha never said anything... though I wasn’t in the country while you two were together.’
‘Out of the country?’
‘My family live in the UK,’ she said. ‘I was over there for a couple of months at the start of the year.’
‘But you live over here now?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I went to school here, and like I said I was lucky enough to have support here.’
‘It must be difficult to be away from your family.’
‘Sometimes,’ she said. ‘But we talk regularly, and we email. I like my life. And I get my freedom over here.’
‘Freedom?’
‘It’s a long story,’ she said. ‘What about you? Do
you have family?’
‘Not much in the traditional sense. But I have colleagues I consider family.’
‘Do you miss her very much?’ Lacie asked.
‘Miss who?’
‘I know you took the break up hard. Sorcha is a dynamic and an alluring woman. Was it very awful for you?’
‘It might be best to stay off that subject,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Of course, I’m sorry. Do we have far to drive?’
‘Another ten miles or so,’ he said. ‘Not long.’
She nodded and took her attention outside again. Maybe talking wasn’t so wise when she didn’t want to like this man any more than she did already – that would be betraying a friend. Plus she wasn’t exactly being honest herself, and the fewer lies she told the better.
‘You didn’t tell me if it was revenge or reconciliation,’ he said taking an exit and driving back towards streetlights.
‘It’s neither,’ she said. ‘Well, I suppose...’
‘You don’t sound very sure yourself,’ he said. ‘I don’t see any man walking away from a woman such as yourself voluntarily. Did he steal something from you?’
‘What does that mean?’ she asked.
‘What?’
‘That’s the second time you’ve said a “woman such as yourself”, what kind of woman am I?’
He signalled onto a trunk road and they drove for a few hundred yards. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘I would disagree, but that’s not what you meant.’
‘How do you know?’
‘The first time you said it was in relation to Bruce being violent, that has nothing to do with beauty.’
‘You’d disagree?’ he said wearing a frown. ‘You don’t think you’re beautiful.’
‘What I think is not important,’ she said.
Signalling again, he drove into a parking area in front of a three-storey apartment block, each with its own terrace overlooking the parking lot.
Pulling into a parking space, he killed the lights and engine then brought all of his attention around to her. ‘If you’re not beautiful what are you?’ he asked.
Mistake Me Not Page 2
