Craving Heat

by Adrienne Giordano

  “I figured. Is there anything else you need on this?”

  Oh, she needed a lot, but so far the only thing coming together was the forged signatures. Could she have missed something somewhere? Her experience didn’t compare to Cam’s. He was FBI. Definitely more knowledgeable in this sort of thing. In fact, if Jay changed his mind and wanted to talk to someone about Celebrate Hope, Cam might be the better option.

  “Cam, let me ask you something. Hypothetically speaking.”

  He snorted. “I love hypotheticals.”

  “I know. Let’s say there’s a large charity.”

  “How large?”

  “Really large. Nationwide. Offices in every state.”

  He let out a whistle. “Interesting.”

  He didn’t know the half of it. “Hypothetically, this charity is partnered with another high-profile entity.”

  “What kind of entity?”

  “I can’t say, but again, it’s well known. Big money. The charity discovers an embezzler on staff and chooses to fire the person quietly rather than draw attention to the issue. They can’t risk the scandal. However, another employee uncovers inconsistent accounting.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yes. The charity, intending to avoid scandal, tells the employee who discovered the wrongdoing that if she goes to the authorities, she’ll be implicated in the embezzlement.”

  “Right off the bat,” Cam said, “we have embezzlement, extortion, and any number of possibilities regarding the cover-up. Hypothetically.”

  Maggie smiled. “Of course. Now, if this person were to come forward, how quiet could the FBI keep the investigation?”

  “Mmm, hard to say without the particulars. Are you sure this is only a hypothetical?”

  He knew the answer. If it were a truly a hypothetical, she wouldn’t be discussing it with him. “For now. Yes.”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  He paused for a few seconds. “I talked to Reid a few days ago. He said you’re getting closer to breaking his obstacle course record.”

  She sure was. And with Jay’s help, look out, cuz. “Ha! He’s such a turd. I know he can’t stand it and I love it. Love, love, love.”

  A deep rumble of laughter came through the phone. Cam’s voice. Crazy cool. “He also said he’s been working with Jayson Tucker.”

  Oopsie.

  “And, you know,” Cam said, “you’d have to be deaf and blind to not know he’s a guy recently canned by a national charity.”

  Double oopsie.

  She made a humming noise while she came up with a diversion. “Jayson’s been here about a week. Causing quite a ruckus in our little town.”

  “I’ll bet. Does your hypothetical involve him?”

  Maggie stayed silent. There were hypotheticals and there were lies. At times, she’d lie if it benefited her in some way that wouldn’t harm another. This time? No lying.

  “Maggie?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Did you hear me?”

  Indeed she did. “Cam, thank you for your help. I’m incredibly grateful, but I’m not at liberty to comment any further.”

  Another long pause ensued and Maggie closed her eyes, begging whatever God available to help her get out of this conversation without betraying Jay’s confidence.

  “Okay,” Cam said. “Obviously, you’re not ready to give me details. How about this? If I should be looking into Celebrate Hope’s accounting methods, don’t say anything.”

  Maggie squeezed her eyes closed and forced herself to stay silent.

  * * *

  Unfuckingbelievable.

  Jay stood in the hallway outside Maggie’s office, his mind reeling over what he’d just heard. Over Maggie’s betrayal.

  He’d been pretty damned clear on his request to not involve anyone else in his disaster of a situation and what does she do? Bring in more law enforcement. At least it sounded like law enforcement. Either way, she’d disregarded every goddamned thing he said.

  He moved into the doorway and for a second she didn’t see him. Too busy reading the notes in front of her. From his spot he took in the perfect slope of her nose and soft curves of her cheeks and he got that brick to the chest. Just like every other time he looked at her.

  Which only pissed him off more.

  Betrayal.

  He’d seen a lot of it lately.

  He rapped on the door, his knuckles smacking harder than he’d intended. Then again, maybe not. She looked up and a smile lit her face.

  “Hi.” She popped from her chair and paddled her hands. “Come in. Come in. I just met with the handwriting expert. I have good news.”

  Her long legs made fast work of cornering her desk. Any other time, he’d love the sight of her rushing for him. Now, the anger fueled something primal in him. He should leave. Walk away before he said something he’d regret.

  She leaned in to kiss him. Right in her office. The uptight sheriff wasn’t so uptight anymore. He stood stock-still, let her peck him on the lips, just to feel her warmth. The Maggie spell that made everything in his day brighter. Except today.

  Today, she’d pissed him off.

  Today, she was a scheming witch.

  The scheming witch was no dummy. She sensed the stiffness of his body and this time it wasn’t in the crotch area.

  She met his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  Did she have three weeks? It’d take him that long to go through the list. And now this. “What did I ask you?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You should be.”

  She gawked at him and the tension, not just from him anymore, crackled between them.

  “No,” she said, “I wasn’t apologizing. I was asking for clarification. And, frankly, what would I be apologizing for? Aside from spending every spare second I have trying to help you? And canceling a much-needed vacation.”

  The statement was delivered with such calm ease, it damn near knocked Jay back a step. Maybe he’d jumped too early on this thing.

  No. He knew what he heard. Stood right in that hallway listening to her talk about a hypothetical situation involving a charity.

  Should have known not to trust an outsider.

  “That phone call,” he said. “I heard part of it. And before you bitch at me about spying, Shari sent me back. I heard you say large charity and you can bet that sweet ass of yours I stopped to listen.”

  She swung around, walked back to her desk and stood behind it, her fingers tented on the flat surface. “Watch it, Jay. Do not talk to me like I’m some groupie who’ll put up with your crap so you’ll let me hang around longer.”

  What? His pulse went to two hundred and his ears didn’t just whoosh, those suckers roared. “When have I ever treated you like a groupie?”

  “Funny,” she said, her voice carrying a tight, sarcastic edge. “I thought you just did.”

  If he treated her like a groupie, he’d be gone by now. “Who were you talking to?”

  She shook her head, knocked one hand on her desk. “Cameron is Grif’s FBI agent cousin. The one we sent the video to. He did us a favor. I trust him.”

  Cousin or not, the guy was a federal agent. “You gave him details.”

  “I didn’t. I kept it vague. What is your problem with this? You knew I was sending him the video. You had to assume he’d ask about it.”

  “Did he?”

  “Ask? Of course. He’s a good agent.”

  She opened her mouth, but paused as if replaying the conversation. From what he heard, she’d initiated the conversation. And possibly ignited a shitstorm if Cameron decided to look into it.

  “You offered me up, Maggie.” He moved closer, his eyes never leaving hers because he wanted her to know just how pissed he was. “I asked you not to share this. I trusted you. My mistake. For the record, if I’d treated you like a groupie, I wouldn’t have confided in you. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here feeling like a
n idiot who knew better.”

  He stepped closer. Cocked his head and focused on her luscious lips that were all over him last night. All over. As pissed as he was, the memories ignited a fierce need. Even now, he wanted her.

  Jesus. He had to get out. Get away from her. Away from her damned body and the betrayal that made him insane. Bent on leaving, he turned and strode to the door before he said anything else that might cause him problems. Privately or publicly.

  “Jayson!” she said. “Don’t walk out of here. We’re not done.”

  Now she wanted to tell him what he could do? He spun back. “Am I under arrest, Sheriff?”

  Her head snapped back. “What are you talking about?”

  “If you’re not arresting me, I’ll go wherever I goddamned please.”

  Now she banged both fists against the desk and gritted her teeth.

  The motion, her clenched hands, and the white of her knuckles went fuzzy for a second. He blinked, tried to clear the blurriness that came with women and fists.

  Never a good combination.

  That combo got him feeling like a helpless twelve-year-old. A place he swore he’d never be again.

  He pointed at her hands. “Stop,” he said, his voice sharp and commanding.

  For a second, she appeared confused, as if he’d spoken a foreign language. Finally, she looked down at her hands while the silence between them became a cement wall. Strong women.

  Fists.

  He’d been kidding himself thinking Maggie might be right for him. She was too headstrong. Too aggressive.

  Her fingers uncurled and she looked up at him with a shocked horror he’d live with forever. “You cannot think I’d ever…Oh, my God. Please, you can’t think that.”

  The tiny crack in her voice wouldn’t fool him. No way. Been there done that. “Tell me, Maggie, are there any other secrets of mine that you’ve told?”

  She held his gaze for a long few seconds, her eyes glistening with moisture that told him, prick that he was, he’d hit the bull’s-eye and hurt her.

  “And here,” she croaked. “I thought you were a nice guy.” She picked up a pen, tapped it on the desk once, twice, three times, then tossed it. She looked back at him, her deep brown eyes tear-free, but lacking the usual Maggie fire.

  “You are something,” she said. “So determined to do things your way, you don’t even see when people are helping.”

  “You betrayed me.”

  “He’s a federal agent! He can help you.” She bit down, jerking her head. “Now I’m yelling. Great. Forget it.” She waved him away. “Just…go. It’ll be better for both of us.”

  * * *

  She let him go.

  Let him just walk right on out. What did that say about this supposed relationship?

  Nothing good, Maggie was sure.

  She sank back in her chair, taking in the empty doorway and the even emptier feeling inside her. Gutted. That’s what she felt. All she’d wanted was to help him. How did she get to being the bad guy? All this effort and he couldn’t see it.

  Men like Jay, a man’s man accustomed to people falling in line at his whim, couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see it. All he wanted was to be in charge. Nothing else mattered.

  Better for her would be a nice, calm guy who didn’t get rattled. Or pissed off. Who let life unwind on its own rather than try to bend it to his will.

  A guy like her dad.

  The intercom buzzed. “Ma’am?”

  “Yes, Shari.”

  “Your mom called while you were in with Mr. Tucker. She said to call her back.”

  “Thank you.”

  Annoyed and tired of brooding over Jay, at least for now, Maggie dialed her mother’s cell.

  “Good afternoon,” Mom said. “What are you doing?”

  The woman calls the office and wants to know what she’s doing. Apparently, retirement shorted the brains of brilliant people because now that Mom had retired, she assumed everyone else had also. “Um, working.”

  “Don’t be sassy. I know that, but I’m in town. I stopped at Brynne’s shop. She has a nice dress in the window and I made the assumption you haven’t bought anything for her and Reid’s wedding, so I picked it up for you.”

  Now her mother wanted to do her clothes shopping? This might be the most epic occurrence yet in Mom’s retirement saga. Maggie envisioned her skull blowing open.

  “Okay,” she said. “Sure.”

  Why not? She’d try it, but wasn’t holding out much hope. Dresses weren’t her friend. Skirts she could deal with. Dresses always seemed too confining. It was the one-piece thing. Or maybe she was just a freak. All she knew was she’d been putting off shopping for the wedding because she needed to be mentally prepared.

  And she wasn’t.

  “You can try it on later,” Mom said, “but I thought you could take a break and meet me at the bakery. I’ll give you the dress and we’ll have coffee.”

  Maggie smiled. “And a doughnut, right?”

  “Those Boston creams are fabulous. Can you sneak away?”

  As much as Mom proclaimed herself to be a health nut, she liked to slip in a doughnut every now and again.

  Maggie had skipped breakfast and after the fight with Jay, a little sugar therapy might do her good. She’d been pumped to update him on the handwriting expert’s report and he’d blown it by lashing out at her. Way to kill a girl’s mood, stud. Well, she wouldn’t call him. No way.

  Stubborn? Perhaps.

  Regardless, she had a job to do and needed to convey this information to Camp Jay. After the doughnut break, she’d swing by and talk to Grif about the handwriting expert. “Mom, give me five minutes.”

  Maggie stepped out of the station, tilted her face to the sun, and decided a bit of fresh air might clear her mind. Passing her cruiser, she hoofed down Main Street, passing the dry cleaner and the new ice cream parlor. Desiree had just unlocked the door and Maggie reconsidered the doughnut in favor of ice cream.

  Ice cream at ten a.m.

  In the mood she was in, she might do both.

  Two storefronts down, Mom stood outside the Mad Batter, where the board in front quoted Mae West.

  Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.

  Amen, sister. At least Maggie had something in common with Mae. She’d taken the leap and entered into a steamy—hello, multi-orgasm nights—affair with a hot professional athlete she’d known from the start was a serious lapse in judgment. The man didn’t even live close by. What had she been thinking? She made a grunting noise that awarded her a long look from Mrs. Johnson, who’d just left the dry cleaner.

  “Sorry,” Maggie said. “I was thinking.”

  Apologizing to the good citizens of Steele Ridge. Great. Damned Jayson.

  As Maggie approached, Mom pointed at the sign. “I like this one. I took a picture and posted it on Instagram.”

  Oh boy. Her mother experimenting with social media. Could be dangerous.

  “Mom, seriously, you need a hobby. You and Aunt Joanie should find something together. Shopping and social media are not the answer.”

  She pecked her mom on the cheek and gladly accepted a squeezing hug that Maggie realized she needed quite badly. A ball of emotion caught in her throat and she drew a deep breath. This wasn’t her. All this negativity and angst. The neediness.

  She and Jay had a fight. Big deal. They’d work it out. Or maybe not. For the second time, the man had come at her when she’d tried to help him. His attempts to control a situation, something she understood based on his family history, drove him to react in certain ways. Certain ways that strong, independent women wouldn’t necessarily agree with.

  If he wanted a brainless twit lacking opinions, she was so not the woman for him.

  Mom pulled back from the hug and squeezed her arms. “This is nice.”

  “It is. I’m glad you called. I could use the break.”

  Mom studied her with narrowed eyes. “You look tired. Bad day?”

&
nbsp; Fighting a burst of emotion, Maggie shrugged.

  “Oh, my girl. Let’s have a doughnut and you’ll tell me about it.”

  Two minutes later, doughnuts and coffee in hand, they sidestepped a few other hungry customers and grabbed the small bistro table in the far corner of the bakery.

  Anticipating the moment the sweet, sugary cake would hit her tongue, Maggie broke her doughnut in half and…dropped it. Getting hopped up on sugar wouldn’t help. Misery already pinched her stomach into a ball.

  She shook her head and contemplated the doughnut again. Maybe later. “Mom, I need to ask you something.”

  “Anything. Fire away.” Mom took a bite of her doughnut and closed her eyes. “It’s so good.”

  “You were never the traditional stay-at-home mom.”

  “You just noticed? I loved y’all, but I couldn’t wait to get back to work. To this day I believe I’m a better mother for having worked. Your father, though, all he wanted was his babies. His babies and his plants. He dreamed of making a difference in the world, but not the way I did.”

  Wait. Hold on one second. In all the years her father had spent carting them around, she’d apparently missed something. “Dad had dreams?”

  Mom looked at her as if she’d grown two more heads. “Of course he had dreams. He’s human, isn’t he? We always knew I enjoyed life in corporate America, but that wasn’t him. He wouldn’t invest his time in anything but his kids and making people healthier. While y’all were in school he worked on his organic produce. Did you think he was washing floors all day?”

  “No. I…I don’t know. Never thought about it being a dream; it was just what he did. It was always kind of weird. You know, Dad being at home and you working.”

  “Don’t I know it. I heard the snickering around town about who wore the pants.”

  Steele Ridge, like every other town, had no shortage of small minds. As a kid, she’d heard the whispering, but blocked it out, tried to protect her siblings from it by telling everyone her father was a farmer.

  A farmer with only a few acres.

  But she’d tried. Even back then she wanted to take care of everyone. She shook her head. “People can be cruel,” she said. “Did you ever say anything?”