To Catch A Husband (U.S. Marshals, Born And Bred Book 4)

by Laura Marie Altom

  He removed his hands from her pockets and skimmed them over her hips, settling them at her waist. “We don’t normally kiss like that.”

  “Seems to me,” she said, clearing her throat, “we don’t normally kiss at all.”

  “True.”

  “So what’s that say about our friendship?” With her forehead resting against his chest, feeling his pounding heart, she was almost afraid to ask, “This mean it’s shot to hell?”

  “Can’t be,” he said, hands now on her cheeks, thumbs tracing her eyebrows. “Because if that were true, I wouldn’t still have this craving to be around you every second of every day.”

  “Adam…” If that’s true, don’t you see what that means? That what we share goes way deeper than friendship? That whether you want to admit it or not, we’re in love?

  “We’d better get those groceries,” he said. “Or Beau’s going to have our asses.”

  Is that it? Is that really all you have to say?

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Swallowing a hard knot of tears, she nodded. “Let me grab my shoes.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Wanna just get a bunch of frozen food?” Adam asked at the grocery store, trying his damnedest to keep the subject on food and off the unfamiliar, unpleasant tangle of emotions wadded in his chest. What was the deal with Bug? He didn’t used to feel so antsy around her—as if she were a real girl. She used to just be another one of the guys, only more fun to hang out with because she…

  What? What specifically was it about her that made him crave being with her more than, say, Bear?

  “Fun idea,” she said. “But seeing how the cabin only has a small fridge, we might want to stick to basics. Hot dogs and mac and cheese.”

  “Good call,” he said, struggling not to notice her scent as she ducked under his outstretched arm to grab a few cans of SpaghettiOs. Was she still using that pear stuff? He’d like to see her back in that negligee. She could call it a nightgown, but he didn’t just stumble out of the turnip patch. He’d been around the block enough times to know what women slept in versus what they played in.

  “Beanie Weenies?” she asked on the next aisle, holding out two cans.

  “Huh?”

  “What’s the matter with you?” she asked. “Considering that we’ll be stuck out at that cabin for at least the next two days, we’re making vital decisions here.”

  “True.”

  “So what’s it going to be?” She was back to waving the cans.

  He slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her in for another kiss—the only thing he currently had a taste for.

  “Adam,” she said with a giggle, glancing over her shoulder at a nosy old guy staring with rapt interest. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Honestly,” he said. “I’m not sure. “Kissing you all of a sudden seems more fun than chips or cookies or X-Box or even watching football.”

  “And this is a bad thing?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

  “It is considering the fact that I’m incapable of offering you anything deeper than friendship.”

  “What if that turned out to not be true?”

  Pushing the cart away from her, he said, “I’m not following.”

  “Yes, you are, or you wouldn’t be walking away.”

  “Correction—I’m shopping.”

  “You’re avoiding the question.” As much as Adam hated to admit it, she was right. And that thought didn’t help his hot flash, already in progress. Should he turn the cart around and try shoving himself into one of the stand-up freezers? “You haven’t been talking to my shrink, have you?”

  “No,” she said, hands on her hips. “And now that you mention it, what happens with your therapy, seeing how you’ll be on this assignment for the unforeseeable future?”

  He shrugged around the end of the cereal aisle. “I’m thinking I’m pretty much cured.”

  Bug snorted.

  A white-haired sample lady was passing out coupons for fiber tablets. They both passed.

  “What’s that mean?” Adam asked once they were on their own with nothing but some Sousa march blaring from hidden overhead speakers.

  “It means, you’ve got more issues than an entire season of The O.C.”

  BACK AT THE CABIN, Charity helped Adam unload the food, then, while Adam grabbed a quick shower and nap, she trekked outside for a briefing on how the afternoon had gone for their partners. She assumed all was quiet, but with close-mouthed Beau and Caleb, you never knew.

  “Caleb?” she called when she’d walked the perimeter of the judge’s cabin and found nothing but a yard in major need of mowing. “Beau? Sam? Bear?”

  Nothing.

  Assuming for whatever odd reason, they must all be inside, Charity rapped on the cabin’s front door, but got no answer. Pulse pounding, she took the liberty of trying the door. It was open, and she crept inside. “Judge Norton? Caleb?”

  The cabin was larger than the one she and Adam had spent the past couple hours stocking, and the furnishings were much more posh, with rich-smelling leather sofas and chairs and rows of leather-bound books. There were top-of-the-line appliances in the kitchen and black granite counters. The place didn’t smell musty like their cabin, either. More like fruity potpourri.

  “Hello?” she called again. “Anyone home?”

  She checked the bathroom, but when that yielded no results, she ran back to her own cabin for Adam.

  “Wake up,” she said, giving him a shake.

  “Huh? What’s wrong?”

  “Not sure. Judge Norton and the rest of our crew are gone. I’ve tried each team member’s cell and radio with no answers from any of them.”

  “Caleb’s SUV still outside?” he asked, sitting up, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the low bunk above him.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then, they can’t have gone far.” He’d taken off his sweatshirt, and Charity had to force herself to look away while he tugged it back on. Good grief, what was wrong with her? They were here on official business—not funny business. This was not an appropriate time to be eyeing his buff pecs and abs. “Come on,” he said, hopping on one foot while slipping on his tennis shoe. “Let me grab my piece and radio, and we’ll split up to check out the lakeside trails.”

  When an hour’s search netted nothing, Charity was genuinely worried. There was no sign of struggle, but then if plans had changed to the extent that Caleb had packed up the judge and taken off in another marshal’s vehicle, wouldn’t he have at least had the professionalism to leave a note?

  “Any sign of them?” Adam’s voice came over her handheld radio.

  “Nothing,” she replied.

  “Now what?” He crunched around the bend in the trail not twenty feet from the lakeside tumble of rocks where she stood.

  Grinning at his antics of still using his radio even though she was in sight, she shrugged, clipping her radio back on to her belt. “This whole thing has been voodoo from the start. Just hasn’t felt right.”

  “How so?” he asked, backing onto the root of a massive fallen fir. A light breeze rippled the lake and shushed through the evergreens, but a pair of Canada geese floating along didn’t seem to mind the sudden chill. Charity watched as a Japanese beetle, Popillia japonica made its way across the dirt path.

  “Think about it. Protecting this judge was supposed to be high profile, yet here we sit, out of radio contact with the rest of the team. Procedure for any protective mission, no matter how small, clearly states all team members must be in radio contact at all times.”

  “Maybe the rest of the guys forgot?”

  “Bear, maybe. Caleb, Beau and Sam?” She laughed, darting out of range of a bumblebee wanting to land on her ear.

  “Yeah, guess you’re right. So? What now?”

  She sighed, gazing at the glassy lake while keeping a wary eye on that bee. “Report in to Franks, see if he’s heard anything. Then sit back and wait.”

  “WELL?” CHARITY ASKED f
ive minutes later when Adam pressed the off button on his cell. “What’d Franks say?”

  “You’re not gonna believe this, but Franks wasn’t there, so I talked to his secretary.”

  “And…”

  “She said Caleb’s radio was down so he couldn’t contact us directly, but that we’re to meet him at some drive-in theater about twenty miles north. Seems the judge got a hankering for civilization.”

  “What?” Plunking onto the tree trunk beside him, she scratched her head. “Supposing that’s true, did Caleb lose your cell number? And mine? And what happened to the rest of the guys’ radios? Surely all four didn’t go bad at the same time? And how did they get to civilization, seeing how Caleb’s SUV is still here?”

  Adam shrugged.

  “Voodoo,” she said, pushing herself up. “I don’t like this one bit. What if whoever’s trying to get to the judge somehow rerouted our radio signals to—”

  “Get a grip.” Adam kicked a dirt clod. “And then what? You think this assassin also paid off Mrs. Swenson, who’s been an official U.S. Marshal’s secretary for about the last eighty years, to give us false information?”

  “You sure it was her?” Charity asked, falling into step with him as they headed down the dried mud trail leading back to the cabins.

  “Reasonably, sure. I guess it could’ve been an imposter, but what are the odds?”

  “Guess you’re right. So now what?”

  “We pack a few firearms, Twinkies and chips, then head for the drive-in.”

  ADAM THUMPED the heel of his hand against the company SUV’s hood. “This is really starting to piss me off. So if they’re not here, and none of them is answering the phone, then—”

  Bug’s cell rang.

  She glanced at the Caller ID. “It’s Caleb,” she said to Adam before answering. “Where are you?” She fell silent for a few seconds. “Uh-huh…But…Okay. See you then. Oh—one more thing. I’ve got a guy asking what color my new car is. How exactly would you describe that shade?…Will do. Thanks.”

  “Well?” Adam asked. During the call, he’d done his best to eavesdrop, but a long-haired doper in a Trans-Am pulled into the space beside them with old school Aerosmith blaring. Two Miller Lite cans clattered out the open door when he reached for his speaker. The car’s exhaust still hung in the air, making Adam even grumpier than he’d been before.

  “Your brother apologized for losing contact with us. Said their cells must’ve been out of range.”

  Adam snorted. “But not ours?”

  “Wait—it gets better. Their radio batteries were dead.”

  “Right.” Lips set in a grim line, Adam asked, “Where are they now?”

  “Back at the cabin. The judge got tired and decided he didn’t want to stay for the movie, after all. But Caleb told me to tell you that we should go ahead and stay. They’ve got everything under control.”

  “And Caleb answered your car color question okay? It didn’t sound like he was under duress?” he asked, referring to the prearranged code they’d use to signify trouble.

  She wrinkled her nose at the cigarette smoke billowing from the Trans-Am’s open windows. “He even went so far as to praise me for using the code.”

  Adam whistled. “You were right. This is pure voodoo.”

  “What do you want to do?” she asked, climbing back into the SUV’s passenger side.

  “Obviously we can’t stay for the movie. We’ve got to go check out Caleb’s story.”

  “Granted.”

  “So let’s head back to the cabin. After that, we’ll reassess.”

  “CHARITY? What are you doing here?” Caleb asked at the front door of the judge’s cabin. He checked his watch. “The movie was a double feature. You’re not supposed to be back for another four or five hours.”

  She tried edging past him, but he veered to his right, blocking her view of the poker tourney being held at the kitchen table.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered, her shadowed features clearly worried. “You in trouble?”

  Caleb had to chuckle to himself. He wasn’t in trouble now, but would be if this mission didn’t end as planned. It’d taken some doing to arrange for everyone involved in this romance heist to have vacation time, but hopefully, the end result would be worth their efforts. “I’m good,” he said. “Why?”

  “Level with me.” She tucked her hands into her jean pockets. “Adam and I aren’t dumb. We know something’s not right. Want us to call for reinforcements?”

  “Totally unnecessary,” he said, edging out of the cabin, then tugging the heavy wood door firmly shut behind him. “Where’s my brother?”

  “Bathroom. He’ll be here shortly.”

  “Good, good. I need to brief you two on the night’s duties.”

  Nodding, she said, “It’s about time we accomplished something. I was beginning to feel like a fifth wheel.”

  “No need for that,” he said, slapping her back. “Trust me, you are vital to the success of this assignment.”

  Adam wandered up, then, after a few more minutes of small talk, Caleb said, “Now, here’s what I want you to do….”

  “HAVE I MENTIONED lately how off this whole case is?” Charity asked, resting her socks-clad feet on the dash. It was three-fifteen in the morning, and so far, the only thing they’d seen on their stakeout of the dirt road leading to the cabins was a waddling opossum family and two small deer.

  “Yeah, well, at least we’re finally doing something constructive.”

  “What’s constructive about this?”

  “Unless our bad guys are ’coptering in, we’ll be the one’s taking them down.”

  “Oh, boy,” she said with the latest of what was starting to be a long string of sighs. “Sounds fun.”

  “Damned straight.” He shot her a devilish grin she tried to ignore, but dammit, there it was, that little tingle in the pit of her stomach. “And since when do you not enjoy taking out a few well-deserving thugs?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, taking her feet down to sit cross-legged on the big bucket seat. “Guess since getting the mommy itch, I’ve lost my gung-ho edge. Don’t get me wrong. I still get a hankering for a good adrenaline rush every now and then, but I’m just as happy adding a new bug to my collection as I used to be firing off rounds.”

  She wasn’t ready to quit her job, but when she did find the right guy who wanted to have that baby as badly as her, she’d certainly be willing to pare down to a part-time schedule. She’d never been one to take unnecessary chances in her job, and once she was a mom, it would be doubly important to play it safe. Not only that, but why have a baby if she couldn’t spend time with him or her, sharing all those special firsts?

  Listen to her. The right guy. That baby. All of her hopes and dreams for the future were hopelessly vague. And for what? All because Adam didn’t have the romance-sense God had given a tree stump.

  “That it?” he asked, helping himself to her last can of diet root beer.

  “What else would there be?”

  He took her last Oreo, too. Finished chewing, ignoring her put-out look, he said, “Now that you’re going to be a mom, I figure you worry about if something happened to you, what would happen to the baby.”

  “I’m not pregnant yet.”

  “No, but you will be. You’re gorgeous, smart, funny. Make damned good queso. What guy wouldn’t want you to have his kid?”

  The question brought instant tears stinging to her eyes. Maybe because she was dead tired, or maybe just temporarily insane, she couldn’t keep from asking, “If I’m so great, how come you wouldn’t want me to have your baby?”

  “W-what?” He choked on his latest sip of her soda. “Where’d that come from?”

  “Never mind,” she said with a wistful smile, not surprised by his reaction, just saddened. But then, what had she expected? For him to leap from his seat and propose?

  He angled toward her, messing with strands of her newly cropped hair. “Moonlight suits you.”


  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged.

  She looked down, took a deep breath. “That question—about why you wouldn’t want me pregnant with your child—it was a joke.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I know.”

  “Good, because I wouldn’t want you to think—”

  “But what if it hadn’t been?”

  Heart thundering, palms sweating, she peered past her reflection in the window to the shadowy forest. By day, it was a beautiful place. By night, it was spooky and tangled and scary. Kind of like the way she felt about Adam when he posed hypothetical questions.

  “Charity? What if I said I want to help you have a baby?”

  “You called me by name.”

  “Yeah? So? Bug is my friend and partner. This goes deeper than either of those relationships.”

  “You’re serious? You’d want to go through the whole sperm-donor routine?”

  He cringed. “Whatever happened to making babies the old-fashioned way?”

  “Then you’d want to…”

  “Hell, yeah,” he said with a sizzling grin that made his offer awfully hard to resist.

  “Nice as that sounds,” she said, flashing a shy smile of her own, “I—”

  “Nice?” From low in his throat came a growling sound, then, cupping his hand to the back of her head, he pulled her in for a hungry kiss. “Darlin’, the things I could show you would be miles from nice. More like bad—in a really great way.”

  “Whew,” she said, fanning cheeks she hoped it was too dark for him to see blushing. “Was that a baby-making audition?”

  “Want it to be?”

  “What if I said yes?”

  “Then I’d say, let’s get busy. With any luck, we’ll have a baby on the way within an hour.”

  “That sure of yourself?” she said with a smirk.

  He took both her hands in his and squeezed. “That sure of us. We’re gonna make gorgeous babies.”

  The tears were back. In a million years, she couldn’t have thought of a more perfect thing for him to say at a more perfect time.

  Not thinking, just doing, just being beyond-belief happy, she tossed her arms around his neck for a hug, kissing his cheeks, chin and forehead. “Yes, yes, yes. I love you, Adam Logue. I’ve loved you for years. I was beginning to fear this day might never come, but finally, you asked me to marry you.” Pulling back, wanting to trace the features of his dear face that would soon be duplicated on a whole brood of children, she asked, “Who should we tell first?”