by Linda Turner
For the first time in her life, she wished she had more experience with men. She had so many questions. Why did a man kiss a woman like he was starving for the taste of her, then find an excuse to leave the very next second? Was he really interested, or could he summon up passion for any female he found reasonably attractive? How was she supposed to know?
Molly would tell her if she asked—she’d married and buried two husbands, and she certainly knew what made the male of the species tick. But she felt like such a fool for needing to ask. And what she’d shared with Sam last night had been so private. How could she possibly discuss what happened between them with anyone but him?
“Jennifer? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Glancing up from inadvertently serving chicken salad to a customer who’d ordered tuna, she frowned at the sight of Rosa hovering uncertainly a few feet away. Her dark eyes black with distress, she was all but twisting her hands and looked ready to bolt any second. Immediately concerned, Jennifer motioned to Molly that she was taking a quick break, then preceded Rosa to her office.
“What’s wrong?” she asked the minute the door was shut behind them. “Shouldn’t you be in school? Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”
“No...not exactly.” Unhappiness clouding her eyes, Rosa blurted, “I have to quit my job.”
Braced for some teenage catastrophe, Jennifer couldn’t have been more surprised if the girl had slapped her. “Quit? But why? I thought you loved working here!”
“I do,” Rosa said miserably. “But Carlos thinks it would be better if I found a job somewhere else. He thinks you’re a bad influence on me.”
The charge was so ludicrous Jennifer would have laughed if she hadn’t been so indignant. She should have known this was Carlos’s idea. Macho and domineering, with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, he had never pretended to like Jennifer or the idea of Rosa working for her. Rosa had never been able to understand why, but Jennifer had known the second she laid eyes on him what his problem was with her. She had insisted that Rosa stay in school, then not only given her a job, but started teaching her a trade that could, in the future, make her a good living. And every chance she got, she encouraged the girl to be strong and independent. To a man like Carlos, who liked having a woman under his thumb so that he could control her, she was nothing but a threat.
Rosa, however, was too young to see that. She saw Carlos’s possessiveness as protectiveness and was thrilled that he cared so much about her. As much as Jennifer wanted to tell her that he really just wanted to control her, she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Not when Rosa was still so infatuated with him.
But she couldn’t just let her walk out without giving her something to think about. “I can’t stop you if you really want to quit,” she told her quietly. “Just be sure you’re doing it because it’s something you want to do. I know you’re crazy about Carlos, but a man who really cared about you wouldn’t be threatened by your job or your friendship with me.”
“But Carlos isn’t making me quit,” she said quickly, defending him just as Jennifer had known she would. “He left the decision totally up to me....”
“So you’re quitting because you agree with him? You think I’m a bad influence on you?”
“Oh, no!” Rosa cried, horrified. “He didn’t mean... bad, exactly. Just that all the time I spend here keeps me away from my family.”
“And him.”
“Well, yes,” she was forced to admit. “But he’s right. I haven’t got to see a lot of him lately. Or my family. So I thought I should find something that at least leaves my weekends free.”
She’d found a way to justify giving in to Carlos’s demands before she’d ever walked into the café, and nothing Jennifer could say at this point was going to change her mind. Forcing a smile, she gracefully accepted the inevitable. “Make sure you put me down for a reference, sweetie. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Mature up till that point, Rosa ducked her head to hide the tears welling in her eyes, and suddenly she looked like the sixteen-year-old girl that she was. “Please don’t be mad at me,” she said, and threw herself into Jennifer’s arms for a fierce hug. A second later, she was gone.
Watching the door close behind her, Jennifer tried to tell herself Rosa would be back. She was a good kid. And smarter than most. She’d come to her senses soon and realize that not only was everyone at the café like family to her, but that by quitting, she’d walked away from an incredible opportunity most kids her age didn’t get. During the six short weeks she’d worked there, she’d already learned a great deal about baking. If she stuck with it, she’d be a full-fledged baker by the time she graduated from high school, while her classmates were still trying to figure out what they wanted to do with their lives.
But as much as she wanted to believe it, the inner voice that never failed Jennifer told her it wasn’t going to happen. Not as long as Carlos was a part of Rosa’s life. He would make sure of it.
Hurt, she squared her shoulders and went to tell Molly the news. But she never got the opportunity. The moment she stepped out of her office, Jonathan Lake, complete with camera crew, walked through the café’s front door, and it didn’t take an Einstein to figure out why he was there. He planned to take up where he’d left off last night.
Molly, who had seen the segment on the morning news where Jennifer was surrounded by the snapping jaws of the press last night, had been fuming about it ever since. She took one look at the reporter and stiffened like a watchdog.
“Hold it right there!” she growled. “This is a respectable establishment—we don’t serve your kind in here. So you and the rest of your bullies just turn around right now and get out. You’re not welcome here!”
“This is a public restaurant,” he reminded her smugly. “We’ve got as much right to be here as anyone else.”
“You think so?” she challenged, moving to the phone. “We’ll see what the police have to say about that.”
Stepping to her side, Jennifer would have liked nothing better than to hand her the phone and let her have at it. But she had firsthand knowledge of how the press operated. Avoiding reporters’ questions was one thing; embarrassing one in front of a restaurant full of customers, not to mention his camera crew, was quite another. If she had the annoying Mr. Lake thrown out, he could crucify her on the evening news.
“If we throw him out, another will only show up in his place,” she told Molly quietly, stopping her before she could pick up the phone. “I can handle it.”
Unlike last night, when he’d caught her off guard, she thought she was prepared for him this time. He immediately proved her wrong. “Some of the people of Sandy Bluff don’t seem to have too much good to say about you, Ms. Hart.” At her nearly soundless gasp. his eyes glittered with satisfaction. “That’s right. I checked you out and got quite a surprise. You made quite a few enemies out there in West Texas. In fact, a lot of people think you’re nothing but a troublemaker. What do you have to say about that?”
“Nothing,” she said, lifting her chin. “I have no control over what other people think.”
“That’s true,” he agreed. “Because if you did, I’m sure you would have controlled what the police thought of you when you came to them about Mrs. Elliot being attacked before she was beaten and robbed. At one time you were considered a suspect in that case, weren’t you, Ms. Hart?”
“I really couldn’t say,” she replied. “You’ll have to take that up with the police.”
“But they did check out your background, didn’t they?” he pressed. “And what they found wasn’t very encouraging, isn’t that correct? You have a history of going to the police with some pretty incredible stories. Do you thrive on sensationalism, Ms. Hart? Have you gone to the tabloids yet with your story?”
He was twisting everything, making it seem as if she was only out for self-aggrandizement, just as the reporters in Sandy Bluff had when she’d broken the story about the mayor. Now, as then, her fir
st instinct was to shy away from confrontation. She hated having to defend herself when she hadn’t done anything but come to the aid of two senior citizens who had desperately needed her help. But whoever was preying on the elderly of San Antonio was still out there, still free to stalk and rob and shoot any old person who had the misfortune to catch his attention. She owed it to them, the future victims, to do whatever she could to convince Jonathan Lake’s viewers that the criminal was the story, the one people needed to be concerned about and on the lookout for.
“No, I haven’t gone to the tabloids or the talk shows or anyone else who’s looking for a way to exploit this story, Mr. Lake. If you knew anything about me at all, you’d know I’m not the least bit interested in that kind of publicity. I’m just concerned about the senior citizens of San Antonio. They’re vulnerable and at risk, and in my head, I see when they’re being attacked. If you don’t want to believe that, that’s your choice. But your lack of faith isn’t my problem. I know what I see.”
She stood tall and straight and made no apologies for the special talent that had been both a blessing and a curse all her life. Instead, she turned the focus of the conversation to the unprincipled man who, with just two robberies, had the city’s elderly cowering in their homes. She couldn’t say what he looked liked or even guess at his name, but deep in her gut, she knew what kind of monster he was. Her attention focused inward, she told of his cunning and charm and total lack of conscience, and, unconsciously, chilled the blood of everyone who heard her, including the usually unflappable Mr. Lake himself. With a sincerity that couldn’t be doubted, she warned that the robber would continue to strike at will until he made a mistake, and although he hadn’t killed anyone yet, he would if someone tried to get in his way. He was dangerous, and the citizens of San Antonio had good reason to be afraid.
It had been a hell of a night. After he’d torn himself away from Jennifer and made his way home, Sam had spent what was left of the night cursing himself and the lady and aching with frustration. He’d vowed he wasn’t going anywhere near her or that café of hers again unless it was on official business, and so far he hadn’t. Thanks to last night’s shooting of Mr. Stubbings, the station had been flooded with calls from people who thought they knew who the perp was, and he and Tanner had gone in early to check out every lead. There’d been so many of them that they’d split up, and he’d been running all over the city ever since.
In a bear of a mood, he’d only had time to grab a doughnut for breakfast and he’d missed lunch, completely. He was thinking about getting a hamburger somewhere when he unthinkingly turned onto West Commerce Street.
It wasn’t until he saw the familiar blue-and-white sign over the entrance to Heavenly Scents that he realized what he’d done. Driving by her café had become such a habit that the second he let his guard down, his instincts led him right to Jennifer.
Swearing, he told himself he wasn’t going to stop. There was no reason to—she’d given him a statement last night and told him all she could about the man who’d shot and robbed Mr. Stubbings. Unless she had another vision or remembered something new, they had nothing more to say to each other.
His jaw as hard as Texas limestone, he started to drive right past without even sparing the café a glance. Then he saw the truck from one of the local television stations parked at the curb. One look at the call letters and he knew Jonathan Lake was hassling her again. The bastard didn’t know when to give up. “Dammit to hell!”
He didn’t remember pulling over, but suddenly he was parked in a No Parking zone and reaching for the emergency flasher he kept under his seat. Turning it on, he slapped it on the roof. Seconds later he was striding into Heavenly Scents like an old-fashioned gunslinger looking for a fight.
But the woman who’d cringed from the cameras last night faced the veteran reporter with her chin up today. Her voice steady, she looked him right in the eye with a quiet dignity that demanded respect, and she got it. Jonathan Lake didn’t hurl questions at her like darts as he had before. Instead, he waited until she finished speaking before asking her another question, this time in a civilized matter. Then, when she wrapped up the interview, he actually thanked her for her time.
Sam had had enough dealings with Lake himself to know that the guy didn’t often lose control of an interview. He was impressed. But watching Jennifer from near the front door as Lake and his cameraman filed out, it was easy to see that the interview had cost her. The cool fire in her green eyes dimmed and her shoulders slumped. When she lifted a hand to push her hair back from her face, her fingers were visibly trembling.
Unable to take his eyes from her, Sam felt the same protectiveness he’d felt last night She looked exhausted, as though she hadn’t slept, and he had a feeling he was entirely to blame for that. Guilt curled in his gut. He needed to get the hell out of there, now, before she knew he was there; but when he ordered his feet to move, they moved toward her, instead of away. Then she saw him. Color flared in her cheeks, she looked wildly around as if she wanted to bolt, and any chance he had of walking away from her died on the spot.
“You handled that very well,” he said quietly when he reached her. “What’d you do to Jonathan? Hit him over the head or something? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him act so polite.”
Caught between the front counter and the kitchen area and within full view of the dozen or so customers, she couldn’t just turn her back on him when he was talking to her, which was what Sam had counted on. But neither could she look him in the eye. Moving to the counter to clear it of some dirty dishes, she kept her gaze firmly focused on the task at hand.
“I said what I wanted to say, and it was something he thought his viewers wanted to hear. There was no reason to go for the jugular when I was cooperating.”
“That’s never stopped him before, but I’m glad he didn’t hassle you.” His gaze roaming freely over her pale face, he frowned at the faint shadows under her eyes. “Are you okay? You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s been a busy morning.” The counter cleared and wiped clean, she hurriedly set down a place setting complete with a menu. “I imagine you stopped by to eat. Have a seat and I’ll be back in a minute for your order.”
“If anyone needs to sit down and eat,” Molly retorted from her position at the grill, “it’s you. You haven’t had anything but coffee all day, and if you don’t eat something soon, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
Frowning, Sam looked her up and down. “You do look like you’re wasting away to nothing. She’s lost weight, hasn’t she, Molly?”
“At least five pounds in the last week alone, and you haven’t helped matters,” she said with a disapproving sniff. “She’s worrying herself sick over those old people getting robbed, and now that you believe her, the press doesn’t. The phone’s been ringing off the wall with people wanting interviews, and she can’t even watch TV or read the papers without seeing pictures of herself. No wonder she’s lost her appetite. I would, too, if I were her!”
“Then maybe she needs a change of scene,” Sam said smoothly. And before Jennifer could guess his intentions, he turned her around and untied her apron. “We’ll take two of your best sandwiches, Molly,” he told the older woman. “Whatever you’ve got on the grill. To go.”
“Oh, but I can’t go anywhere!” Jennifer said in alarm. “Rosa won’t be in this afternoon—she gave her notice—and Molly can’t possibly handle the place by herself.”
“Says who?” the older woman demanded sassily. “The day I can’t take care of a few customers all by myself is the day I need to be put out to pasture.” Scooping two cheeseburgers off the grill, she quickly wrapped them in foil, stuffed them in a sack and handed them to Sam. For the first time there was a glimmer of approval in her eyes when her gaze met his. “You go on and take her, Detective. I’ll be just fine.”
Outgunned and outmaneuvered, Jennifer knew when she was beaten. Sh
e gave in graciously and let him escort her to the back door, but not before she glanced over her shoulder at Molly and called, “Traitor!”
Unperturbed, her friend only laughed and turned her attention to the café customers who’d been watching in fascination as the scene played out. “All right, how many hamburgers am I making?”
He only took her as far as her own back stairs. Surprised, she stopped at the bottom step. “You want to eat in my apartment?”
“No, just on the landing,” he said, urging her up the stairs. “I’d take you to one of the Mexican places on the river, but neither one of us has the time. And it’s too nice a day to spend inside, so this’ll have to do. Have a seat.”
It was a beautiful day, clear and cool, the kind that always drew tourists and locals alike to the River Walk. That would have been romantic; her back alley was not. Until Sam sat down next to her on the top step of the landing and his hip nudged hers as he stretched one of his long legs down the steps in front of them. Awareness shimmered through her, sending her heart tumbling into a fast breathless beat. She looked up—and fell into his eyes.
Why was he here? What did he want from her? She desperately wanted to believe he couldn’t stay away, but that was a dangerous conclusion to draw after only a few kisses. Especially when he hadn’t been able to get away from her fast enough last night. Considering all that, the only other reason she could think of he might have sought her out was that he was still worried she might be suffering some effects from the trauma of Mr. Stubbing’s shooting.
