Books by Nora Roberts

by Roberts, Nora

  She hooked him by the ear. “You’re getting a police escort to school.”

  “Mom’s going to kill me.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m going to fail the test.”

  “Should’ve studied for it.”

  “I’ll get in-school suspension.”

  “Kid, you’re breaking my heart.”

  When he muttered “shit” under his breath, she gave the back of his head a quick tap. “Watch the mouth, peewee. We’re going to pay a visit to the assistant principal, you’ll make a full confession, and take your lumps.”

  “Like you never hooked school.”

  “When I did, I had enough brains not to get caught. Therein, young Skywalker, is the power of the Force.”

  He snorted out a laugh. And because he did, because he was hers, she walked him the rest of the way to judgment with her arm companionably around his shoulders.

  The morning’s work and her replay of both incidents for Zack put her in a much better frame of mind. She strolled into the bookstore, looking for lunch, and gave a quick wave at Lulu.

  “Put your belly on hold a minute and come over here.”

  “About a minute’s all my belly can wait.” But Ripley detoured and walked to the counter. “What’s up?”

  “I got a letter from Jane.”

  “Yeah?” Ripley thought of the café’s former chef. She and her man had taken off for New York so he could have a shot at a part in an Off Broadway play. “How’re they doing?”

  “Well enough. Sounds to me like they mean to stay.” Lulu glanced toward the stairs, lowered her voice. “Guess who strolled, big as life, into the bakery where Jane’s working?”

  “Harrison Ford.” At Lulu’s steely stare, Ripley shrugged. “I’ve had a thing for him lately. Okay, who?”

  “Sam Logan.”

  “No shit?” Ripley’s voice dropped as well. “What does Jane say about him? How’s he look? What’s he doing?”

  “If you’d shut up for five seconds I’ll tell you. He looks, so Jane says, better than ever. Tall, dark, and dangerous. That’s Jane speaking. She got all giddy because he recognized her. She never had two licks of sense. I don’t suppose he said what he was doing, or she didn’t ask, otherwise she’d have put every word of it down. But she did say he asked after Mia.”

  “What do you mean, ‘asked after’?”

  “Just that, casual, according to Jane. ‘How’s Mia?’ ”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. That was it, that was all. He bought a box of pastries, wished Jane good luck, and walked out again.”

  Considering, Ripley pursed her lips, juggled the angles in her mind. “Funny coincidence. Of all the bakeries in all the city, he walks into the bakery where Mia’s ex-cook works.”

  “I don’t think it was coincidence. I think his curiosity took him there.”

  “I won’t disagree. Are you going to tell her?”

  “No.” Lulu sucked air through her nose. “I thought about it, chewed on it, twisted it around, and I don’t see the point.”

  “Are you asking my opinion?”

  “Do you think I’m telling you all this to give my tongue a workout?”

  “Okay, then I agree with you. There’s no point in it. It still hurts her.” She sighed because it could still hurt, just a bit, to know that Mia hurt. “Besides, if Mia wanted to know what he’s up to, she could find out.”

  Lulu nodded. “Just feels better to have somebody agree with me. Go eat. Soup’s black bean today.”

  “That’ll hit the spot. Oh, Lu?” Ripley paused on her way to the stairs. “If you write Jane back, tell her not to say anything about this. You know.”

  “Already done.”

  That, Ripley told herself, was that. Three good deeds in one day. What more could anyone ask? She strolled up to the counter, started to ring the bell. Then saw, through the kitchen door, Nell serving soup and a sandwich to Mac.

  He was sitting at the kitchen table, a place reserved for friends. She’d taken two long strides toward the end of the counter before she stopped herself.

  This wasn’t the way, she thought. Going in guns blazing—metaphorically—wasn’t the way to deal with the man, the situation, or her own annoyance.

  She gave herself a moment to calm, then walked around the counter, into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Nell. Mac.” Doing everything she could to radiate goodwill, she sniffed the air. “Smells great. I’ll have what he’s having. Okay if I eat back here?”

  “Of course. Coffee with that?” Nell asked her.

  “Let’s jazz it up and go with a latté.” Ripley unbundled her coat, hung it on the back of a chair. And sent Mac a slow, warm smile. “Don’t mind a little company, do you, Professor?”

  “No. You look great today.”

  “Thanks.” She sat across from him. “What’re you up to?”

  “I asked him to come back, Ripley.” Nell squeezed Ripley’s shoulder before setting down a bowl of soup. “To talk.”

  Annoyance clawed up in her throat, and was dutifully swallowed. “If you’re all right with it, I’m all right with it.”

  “Actually, Mac’s been entertaining me with some stories of his travels, and his work. It’s fascinating. I’m going to order those books you recommended,” Nell added, tossing him a glance as she made Ripley’s sandwich.

  “I hope you’ll tell me what you think, after you’ve read them.”

  “I will.” She served the sandwich. “I’ll get your latté.”

  When she was out of earshot, Mac leaned forward. “I’m not pushing her.”

  Ripley held up a hand. “Truce. Nell’s in charge of her own life, makes her own decisions.” You miserable son of a bitch.

  “Okay. But I want you to understand that I know she’s been through more than anyone should ever have to go through. I won’t push, whatever the circumstances.”

  The fact that she believed him didn’t change a thing.

  She ate with him, listened to his laugh when she told him about the dog, the boy. It irritated her to realize she liked talking to him, hearing him laugh.

  The man was good company, even if he was a slug.

  Under other circumstances she’d have enjoyed spending time with him. Getting to know him better. Finding out all the stuff that went on inside of that high-voltage brain.

  His smarts weren’t boring. She’d already figured out that much. Then there were those terrific brown eyes, the long, slow smile, the really superior body. To say nothing of the moves—which were past excellent.

  Then she imagined him using those moves on Mia only hours, hours after he’d danced with her.

  There was only one recourse. He must be annihilated.

  “So,” she said, “you must be keeping pretty busy, hunting spooks and searching for, what is it, vortexes or whatever.”

  “Busy enough. I’m getting my bearings, getting to know the island.”

  “And the natives,” she said. Sweetly.

  “Sure. You know, my day’s still pretty flexible,” he told her. “I can wander over to the gym almost anytime. I’d enjoy the workout more with company.”

  Why don’t you ask Mia to come sweat with you? she thought. “What time do you usually go over in the morning?” She knew, of course. She knew everything that went on under her own damn nose.

  “About seven-thirty.”

  “That could work for me.”

  In fact, she decided, it would be perfect.

  She walked into the gym at seven-forty-five. He was already on the stepper, and just working up a sweat. He hadn’t shaved again. When he shot her a quick grin, she could only think it was too damn bad she had to crush him like a bug.

  He was working out to music instead of TV. Wasn’t it just like him to try to be obliging?

  She set the weight on a leg machine, slithered onto the bench on her belly, and began to work on her hamstrings. The added benefit was to give him a good view of her butt.

 
Look and dream, pal, she thought. Look and dream.

  “I heard we’re in for more snow.”

  She counted off reps. “The sky’s full of it. Did you get that wood?”

  “Not yet. I lost the name.”

  “It’s in your coat pocket.”

  “It is?”

  He looked cute when he was baffled. “That’s where you stuck it after I wrote it down for you. Right pocket of your long black coat.”

  “Oh.”

  “Nobody seems to be thinking of health and fitness this morning,” she commented.

  “Actually, there was a guy in here before. He finished up right before you came in. Great legs you’ve got there, Deputy Todd.”

  “You think?” She slid a flirtatious smile onto her face, gave him a deliberate once-over. “Yours aren’t so bad, either, Dr. Booke.”

  “You should’ve seen me at eighteen. Well, twenty,” he corrected. “Any time up to twenty I was the model for the guy who gets sand kicked in his face at the beach.”

  “Skinny, were you?”

  “A toothpick with a sign on his back saying ‘Please, pick on me.’ ”

  There was a little tug of sympathy for the skinny, undoubtedly awkward boy. Remembering her mission, she ignored it. “So you decided to get cut.” She switched to work her calf muscles.

  “A guy with my body type doesn’t get cut unless he devotes his life to it. I just wanted to get in shape. I read up on bodybuilding.”

  She couldn’t stop the laugh. “Read up on it?”

  “That’s my approach,” he said with a shrug. “Then I experimented with different programs until I found what I could do.” Obviously amused at himself, he grinned over at her. “I made charts.”

  “No joke?”

  “No joke,” he admitted. “Charts, graphs. A computer analysis, before and after. A merging of the intellect and the physical. Worked for me.”

  “I’ll say.”

  He flushed a little. “Well, it didn’t take long to figure out that if I was going to be hiking trails, climbing into caves, hacking through the occasional jungle, I’d better be able to handle the physical part of the job. Walk a few miles in a hundred percent humidity, carrying a full pack and sensitive equipment, you realize you’d better put in a few hours a week at the gym.”

  “Whatever the reason, the results are fine.”

  She rose to change machines and gave him a quick pinch on the butt as she passed. When he only stared at her, she laughed. “You can pinch me back anytime, cutie.”

  She worked her quads, pleased to note that she’d ruined his rhythm.

  “Have you taken a tour of the island yet?”

  “Not complete.” He lost count of his reps, and struggled to get his pacing back. “I’ve been working, more or less, inch by inch.”

  “Next time the two of us have a couple of hours free, I’ll show you around.”

  He was starting to heat up, and it wasn’t just the exercise. “I can be free anytime.”

  “Now, that’s a dangerous thing to say to a woman. I like it.” She all but purred. “I like a man willing to take risks.” She licked her lips. “Have you been thinking about me?”

  “Only ten or twelve times a day.”

  “Ah.” She wriggled off the bench as he picked up free weights. “Another risky statement. Not to be outdone, I’ve given you considerable thought as well.”

  She walked to the weights, but instead of selecting hers, skimmed a fingertip over his arm. “Mmm. All slicked up, aren’t you? Me, too.” She shifted closer, brushed bodies. “Wouldn’t we just slither and slip all over each other right now?”

  Maybe, just maybe, if all the blood hadn’t drained out of his head, he’d have caught the hard-edged glint to her eyes when she smiled. But even the best man often stopped thinking with his brain when a hot, sexy, willing woman was rubbing herself against him.

  “Let me put these down,” he managed. “Before I drop them on my foot. Or yours.”

  “I like lean muscles on a man.” She squeezed his biceps. “Long . . . lean . . . limber.”

  The weights clanged like a pair of anvils against the stand. He fisted a hand in her hair, drew her up, had his mouth a breath from hers.

  Then her elbow rammed straight into his gut.

  “Back off!”

  He coughed. It was the only way his body could gather air. “What? What the hell?” He was too shocked for anger, too busy trying to breathe normally again to do anything but stare into her suddenly furious face.

  “You think I want your hands on me?”

  He managed the breath, rubbed gingerly at his stomach. “Yes.”

  “Well, think again. Nobody juggles me with another woman.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “And don’t pull that innocent act. Maybe you think you can pretend you forget you’ve been hitting on me when you decide to hit on her, and vice versa, but that’s taking the absentminded professor act one step too far.”

  “Who? What?”

  She bunched both fists and nearly used them. Very nearly used them. “You’re not worth it.”

  She turned on her heel and stalked into the women’s locker room.

  She kicked the wall, just because it felt good, then limped to her locker. She was just about to strip off her sports bra when Mac swung in after her.

  “You turn around and march straight out of here,” she ordered. “Otherwise I’m arresting you for lewd and lascivious behavior.”

  He didn’t turn, he didn’t march. He stalked, seriously surprising her, until he stood toe-to-toe with her.

  “I’m entitled to an explanation of what just went on in there.”

  “You’re not entitled to anything from me. Now beat it.”

  “If you think you can sashay in there, tease me half to death, punch me in the stomach—”

  “It was an elbow jab. And I’ve never sashayed in my life.”

  “You deliberately came on to me with the express purpose of slapping me back. I want to know why.”

  “Because I don’t like cheats, I don’t like sneaks. And I don’t like men who try to see how many women they can sleep with at one time, especially when they’re trying to add me to the list.”

  “I haven’t slept with anyone. I haven’t even gone out with anyone since I’ve been here.”

  “Let’s add ‘I don’t like liars’ to that list.”

  He took her firmly by the elbows, lifted her straight off her toes. “I don’t lie. And don’t even think about spitting any magic at me.”

  She opened her mouth, shut it again. When she spoke, it was dead calm. “Take your hands off me.”

  He set her on her feet, took a full step back. “I’ve made it clear I’m interested in you on a personal level. It happens that I’m not interested, at the moment, in anyone else on that same level. I haven’t juggled anyone. I don’t have the reflexes for it.”

  “You bought a bottle of fancy wine and spent an evening snuggled up to Mia.”

  “Where the hell do you get this?” Flustered, he dragged his hands through his hair. “I went to Mia’s for dinner, though that’s completely my business. She’s one of the main reasons I’m here. That’s a professional interest. However, I also happen to like her very much. I didn’t sleep with her, don’t intend to sleep with her.”

  “Fine.” Because she’d started feeling like a fool even before he’d released her, she turned to her locker. “It’s your business, like you said.”

  “You’re jealous.” He paused a moment, as if to gather his wits. Or his temper. “After I get over being seriously pissed off, I might find that flattering.”

  She whirled back. “I’m not jealous.”

  “Replay that little scene,” he suggested, jerking a thumb toward the gym. “See what you come up with. Now, I’m going to go soak my head. I suggest you do the same.”

  He strode out, sending the swinging door slapping.

  Eight

  There wa
s one thing Ripley hated more than feeling guilty. It was feeling ashamed. It took her a while to get there, as her temper wasn’t of the flash-and-fade variety.

  She wallowed in anger, enjoyed the way it bubbled and churned inside her and kept clear, rational thinking at bay.

  She rode on that blissful annoyance most of the day, and it felt good. It felt just. The energy it gave her had her whipping through a backlog of paperwork at the station house and taking Zack’s turn at cleaning the premises. She did her patrol on foot, then, still raring to go, volunteered to take her brother’s cruise shift.

  She drove all over the island, looking for trouble. Hoping for it.

  When trouble didn’t cooperate, she spent an hour at home, beating the hell out of her punching bag.

  Then common sense began to trickle through. She hated when that happened. That trickle opened a crack, and through the crack she was able to view her own behavior with distressing clarity.

  She’d been stupid and that was hard to swallow. She’d been wrong and that was a bigger, nastier gulp. Feeling like an idiot made her depressed, so she skulked down to the kitchen when no one was around and ate three of Nell’s brownies.

  She could hardly believe she’d worked herself up into that sort of a state over a man in the first place. Not that it had been jealousy, she thought, contemplating a fourth brownie. He was completely wrong about that. But she had overreacted, big time.

  And she, she decided as the feeling of stupidity began to slide toward the first sticky edge of guilt, had treated him shabbily.

  She’d teased him. She had no respect for women who used sex as a weapon, or a bribe. Or a reward, for that matter. But she’d used it as bait and punishment.

  That shamed her.

  Replaying her actions in the gym drove her to brownie number four.

  Even if he had been interested in Mia, which she was now convinced he hadn’t been, he was a free agent. A couple of lip locks with her didn’t make them exclusive, or oblige him to fidelity.

  Though she firmly believed that if you were nibbling on one cookie, you finished it off before you picked up another.

  But that was neither here nor there.