by Julie Miller
His voice dropped to a low and husky timbre that skittered across her ear drums and pricked each nerve into a heightened awareness of his heat and size and scent. “A guy with a knack for showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Her own voice squeezed from her throat. “From my perspective, you entered my life at exactly the right time.”
He shook his head. “I’m not in your life, lady.”
Robin called him on his determined effort to deny any connection between them, whatever it might be. “Then why did you wait around for five hours to make sure I got safely to my destination?”
Lonergan braced his hand on the door frame behind her and leaned in. Robin sucked in her breath and flattened her back against the glass, feeling the heat from his body filling up the narrow space between them. He dipped his head, bringing that square, scarred jaw to within inches of her temple, forcing her to tilt her eyes to keep track of the intention in his grim expression. His hungry gaze dropped to her mouth and Robin thought he was going to close the distance and kiss her.
She held her breath in a mixture of anticipation and shock at just how badly she wanted to sample his kiss. A clear rivulet of rain dripped from tip of his nose onto her cheek. The cool drop sizzled against her skin and she gasped as if he’d physically touched her. “Let’s just say I’m making sure my conscience is clear. I don’t like to leave a job half done.”
“You’ve done your job,” she whispered. “I owe you so much. My life. Emma’s life. What can I do to thank you?”
He leaned in another fraction of an inch and smoothed a wet lock of hair away from her eyes. His blunt fingers traced the wavy tendril against her scalp. His lips parted and his coffee-scented breath tickled her cheek. She was vaguely aware of his chest expanding and contracting at a more rapid pace.
That was what he wanted? A kiss? Closeness? To act on this charged energy arcing between them? Maybe a guy with that face and those scars didn’t get much play with women, and he simply wanted sex. Certainly, his brusque personality wouldn’t charm much feminine softness into his life. And yet, she was considering giving him exactly what those crystal blue eyes were asking for. The man was a virtual stranger. She was a smart, responsible woman. Should she be this eager to reward him with a kiss? With something more?
Robin’s hand somehow wound up on the masculine swell of his chest. She was bracing herself, curling her fingers into the wet cloth and solid muscle, holding on for what was sure to be a kiss unlike any other she’d experienced. Lonergan tunneled his fingers into her hair, tugging the wet strands and clasping the nape of her neck just a little too roughly.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, sensing his hesitation as much as his desire. “I’m okay with this.”
Her eyes drifted shut and she stretched up to meet him. But just as she thought he’d touch his lips to hers, he muttered an oath. “I can’t do this.” He released her entirely and backed away. “You won’t see me again, Robin.”
Her eyes opened to see him striding away. He swiped a hand over his face and never looked back.
The emotional roller coaster of this long, sleepless night shook through her and left her knees wobbly enough that she had to cling to the bricks for support. “Yes, you will,” she called after him, finding her voice and gaining strength. “I’m a determined woman. I repay my debts, Mr.... What the hell is your first name, anyway?”
But he disappeared around the fence, and the night and the rain swallowed him up.
Robin stared into the darkness, willing the sexy, frustrating, mysterious apparition to reappear. Willing her fascination with the man to stop pounding through her blood. After a minute of standing in the rain, feeling as empty and alone as she’d been before bringing Emma into her life, Robin had no choice but to go inside, bolt the doors behind her and trudge upstairs to claim whatever sleep she could.
Chapter Five
Seriously?
Ghost Rescuer Saves RRR’s Latest Victim
Jake set down his mug of coffee and spread the newspaper open across the top of his kitchen table.
“Ghost Rescuer,” he muttered, zeroing in on reporter Gabriel Knight’s latest article in the Kansas City Journal. “According to one eyewitness, the unknown hero appeared ‘like a ghost from the shadows.’” Jake crumpled the edge of the paper in his fist. “What eyewitness?”
The only people who’d been there last night had been an infant who couldn’t talk and the blitz attacker who certainly wouldn’t want Kansas City’s top crime reporter covering his activities. That left the stubborn, dark-haired victim, Robin Carter, to blab about how he’d helped her. Some thanks.
“What are you doing to me, lady?” He didn’t need this kind of publicity. He didn’t need publicity, period. Getting featured in the newspaper worked against the whole idea of hiding out from the nightmares Jake suspected were all too real.
He swallowed the last of his tepid coffee and read the article from beginning to end. “Ah, hell.”
At least she hadn’t mentioned his name. But big, scarred face and man who likes his privacy were all apt descriptors that could lead anyone observant enough right to him.
He skimmed over Knight’s claims that the Ghost Rescuer had done what KCPD had been unable to do for over a year now—stop the Rose Red Rapist. The women of Kansas City could breathe a little easier knowing someone like him lurked in the shadows, watching over them, waiting to save the day. He was making Jake out to be some kind of folk hero. This reporter clearly had a beef with the police department, but Jake wasn’t about to sacrifice his anonymity to become a front-page news story in which Gabriel Knight could vent his anger and disappointment.
Jake glanced behind him at the closet where his go-bag, with all those IDs and his weapons cache, was stored. A man like...whoever he was...had a strong aversion to publicity, even good press.
Would whoever had cut his face, burned his skin and put a bullet in his head see this article and come back to finish the job? Would word of an anonymous hero lurking in the alleyways of Kansas City reach one of those Central American countries stamped on those fake passports? Or had he already taken out the people who’d done this to him? Was there enough detail in this article to get the attention of a law-enforcement agency that had him on their most-wanted list?
“Hell.” Jake knocked the chair backward as he stood up abruptly, sending the shirt he hadn’t yet put on tumbling to the floor. He wadded the newspaper in his fists and tossed it across the apartment. He could damn well be sure the local cops would be keeping an eye out for him now. And he worked in a cop bar! Great place to blend in and eavesdrop on official business, giving him a heads up on any investigation that might lead back to him. Bad place to be if KCPD had an actual suspect description that matched his face.
“You’re ruining my life, Robin Carter.” He stalked across the apartment to the fire escape window and pushed it open so he could sit on the ledge and breathe in several lungfuls of the storm-scrubbed morning air.
He didn’t want to move on. He’d learned how to be good at leaving. He could move quickly and silently and be gone before anyone knew it.
But he liked Kansas City. He didn’t know if he’d grown up a city boy or a country bumpkin, but he liked the mix of urban amenities and small-town sensibilities he’d found here. He could lose himself in a big city crowd or take a bus and be out in the wide-open countryside in thirty minutes. He couldn’t remember if he was a Southerner or a Midwesterner or even an American, but he felt at home here. As at home as a man with no connections could be, at any rate.
And what about those Carter girls? Jake looked down at the newsprint stains on his rough, nicked-up hands. These were hands that were used for fighting, heavy lifting, killing. And yet he could still feel the silky strength of Robin Carter’s wet, wavy hair tangled in his fingers. He could still remember how warm and fragile tiny Emma had felt sleeping in his hands and snuggling against his chest. The sensations had been as vivid and unfamiliar as they
’d been strangely addictive.
Probably because he had no woman in his life. He had no family he remembered. He was starved for human contact. But he’d made a point of denying himself those things so there’d be no attachments if he had to leave, no regrets if something happened to a lover he cared about because of who he used to be. His face and personality made it easy to keep people away.
But that whole gotta-save-the-innocents hang-up of his had gotten him into trouble last night. Robin and Emma Carter were a family, in and of themselves. There was no man to protect them, no husband or boyfriend or daddy they’d called on for help. They’d needed him. Him. A pretty woman with that much sass and a beautiful baby should have someone taking care of them. They shouldn’t be alone to fight against would-be rapists or whatever that mess had been about last night.
Showing up once he could write off as self-preservation—he didn’t need any more guilt and what-ifs in his life. If he knew something was wrong, and he could do something about it, he needed to do it.
But showing up twice? Yeah, he’d been suspicious of the guy watching Robin’s shop. Maybe it had been this Gabriel Knight; maybe that’s how he’d gotten this story. But what had Jake been thinking? Hiding in the rain, waiting to catch her alone. Had he really just needed to see that she got safely home for the night? Or had he been hoping for something more? Had he really thought she’d let him kiss her? Thanks for the rescue, now pay up?
Jake closed his eyes and leaned back against the windowsill. He evaluated his options. Leave town before the Ghost Rescuer became any more of a buzz word. Leave a decent job with a fair boss who didn’t ask questions. Leave the woman and baby who’d gotten under his skin and into his head in just a few short hours.
Or did he stay and trust that his covert skills could keep him out of any more newspapers? Stay and blend back into the shadows so he wouldn’t show up as someone suspicious on KCPD’s radar? Stay and pretend he wasn’t worried about the single mom and daughter combo who’d been thrust into a world of violence with no one to protect them?
Could he remain in K.C. and not have a thing to do with Robin and Emma Carter?
None of those questions got answered. He might not remember his name, but he remembered the training that had kept him alive. Jake shifted his thoughts firmly to the present. There were eyes on him. Right now. He could feel someone was watching him, perched on the window ledge five stories above the street.
Without changing his body posture Jake opened his eyes and scanned the windows across the street. Unlived in or empty because the occupants had gone to work. He dropped his gaze to the street below to check out parked cars and moving traffic. Alleys? Clear. Rooftops? Clear.
And then he spotted the man in the trilby hat, leaning against the newsstand at the corner. He held a newspaper up as if he was reading it. The brim of the hat obscured his face, but it tipped up at least twice, indicating the man was looking up. At Jake.
Was he reading about the Ghost Rescuer in the Journal, and Jake’s silver-white hair had stood out against the black fire escape and caught his eye? Or was there something more personal, more sinister about the man’s curiosity?
Stretching his arms in a mock show of casual unawareness, Jake got up and closed the window. He jogged to the kitchen sink to wash his hands and splash water on his face and neck before pulling on a clean shirt and slipping out of the apartment to get a better look at just who might be fool enough to spy on him.
* * *
ROBIN PATTED EMMA’S bottom as the baby cooed contentedly in the sling Robin wore over her uninjured shoulder. Holding her daughter close to her chest, Robin leaned over the counter and turned to another page in the flower arrangement catalog.
She pointed to one of the pictures, hoping the middle-aged couple she was waiting on would see a little reason. “I could hang smaller sprays on each of the church pews if you want more color. But I think adding garland along the railing will make it look like the holidays, not a renewal of your wedding vows.”
“Hmm.” Chloe Vanderham tapped her hot-pink lacquered fingernail against the image of pastel spring flowers and sighed again. Then she turned to the balding man checking an app on his smart phone beside her. “What do you think, Paul?”
“That’s fine.” He raised his head without pulling his gaze from the phone. “Whatever you want, darlin’. This is my gift to you.”
Chloe wrapped those shiny nails around her husband’s chin and demanded his full attention. “This is supposed to be a celebration of our twentieth anniversary, Paul. Not just mine.” She turned his face toward the catalog. “I like this arrangement. But with red roses. Long-stemmed ones spilling down like a waterfall at the front of the church.”
“Do you really think red is appropriate, given the recent events in town?” He pulled her fingers from his jaw and gave them a placating kiss before releasing her. “You look so lovely in pink.”
The suggestion didn’t seem to please her. Robin thought she might even have heard the stamping of a platformed heel. “I had red at our first wedding. I’m not going to let that awful man dictate how I celebrate my own anniversary. I won’t have it.”
With his patience already overtaxed by coming to the shop with his wife in the first place, Paul made no effort to mask his frustration. He tucked his phone inside his suit jacket and pleaded to Robin. “Bail me out here, please.”
Silently forgiving them for not knowing she might have been the most recent victim of the Rose Red Rapist’s attacks, Robin searched for a resolution that would keep these two from walking out the door in an angry huff. She’d built a successful company out of giving customers what they wanted. Mediating disputes like this one, and helping her clients reach a decision, was all part of the business. Even if it was a chore to deal with when she’d rather be napping, looking at her accounting reports with fresh eyes or finding answers to the mysteries that lingered from last night. Who had attacked her? Why? Who was Lonergan? Why had he almost kissed her? Why had she been so foolishly ready to kiss him back?
Fighting back the curious heat that warmed her skin, Robin offered both the Vanderhams a reassuring smile. “Chloe, you said your original bouquet had red roses in it?”
“Yes. Red roses and white carnations.”
“Why don’t we re-create that bouquet and feature the red there? That would draw everyone’s attention to you, especially if we use softer tones and smaller arrangements for the decorations.” Plus, she wouldn’t risk over ordering stock and having a supply of the bloodred flowers on hand to tempt the infamous rapist.
Paul winked his gratitude and Chloe smiled. “You are a woman of excellent taste, Robin.”
“I try.”
Chloe twirled the cluster of diamonds and white gold on her ring finger. “I know it’s short notice, with the ceremony just a week away, but can you get everything ready?”
“I’ll need to check with my vendors to make sure we have what we need available. But at this time of year, it shouldn’t be an issue. And my staff works quickly once we have the proper materials.” She called to the blonde assistant stocking hydrangea bunches in the refrigerated display case. “Hey, Shirley. Would you run to the back and see if Leon has left to make his deliveries yet? If he’s still here, ask him to bring me the stock manifest for the flowers that came in this morning.”
“Will do.”
Shirley wiped her hands on her smock and exited through the swinging doors while Robin pulled up the Vanderhams’ order on her computer screen. Emma shifted in the sling, blowing bubbles through her tiny bowed lips and drawing Robin’s attention down to the contented baby smiling up at her. “You’re such a good girl,” she praised, adding baby talk sound effects that made Emma gurgle and squiggle even more. Robin wiped the bubbles from her baby’s lips and pressed a kiss to her velvety brown hair. “Did you want to get into your swing to see the world? It’s not fair that you got seven hours of sleep while Mommy only got two.” Emma started suckling on Robin’s finger and
she nearly forgot about everyone else in the shop. “Ready for an afternoon snack, are we?”
The bell hanging over the front door jingled. Reluctantly, Robin pulled her attention away from Emma to greet the new customer.
Her one-time beau—the man she’d bought this very shop from after his company had renovated the building—Brian Elliott, walked in, circled the counter, kissed her cheek and wrapped her in a hug. Instinctively, Robin’s arms curled around Emma, protecting her from being crushed between them. “Oh, God, sweetheart, are you okay?”
She took note of his expensive cologne and the concern that lined his dark eyes. “I’m fine, Brian,” she reassured him, reaching one arm around his crisp gabardine suit to pat his back. “Just a few bruises.”
“That sick man was lying in wait for you? You should have called me as soon as this happened,” he insisted.
“In the middle of the night?”
“You know I still care about you.”
“There’s nothing you could have done. The police came. I answered their questions. Then we went across the street and spent the night at Hope’s.”
She left out the juicy bits about someone toppling Emma’s car seat, strangers watching her shop and a ghost saving the day and rousing an unfamiliar, dangerously potent desire inside her.
Unlike her bland “nope, nothing” firing anywhere in her system in response to Brian’s hug.
If the initial embrace had been awkward, the end of it was even more so. Brian must have realized how she shielded the baby between them and he sucked in his stomach and arched his back, breaking contact with Emma before he pulled his arms from Robin. He plucked the front edge of the sling between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it up around Emma, even as she buzzed her lips and reached for one of the buttons on his jacket. “Should she be here?”
Ah, yes. One of the reasons they’d broken up—Brian’s aversion to starting a family.
Robin reached inside the sling to let Emma’s delicate, grasping fingers grab hold of one of hers, silently apologizing for the rejection. Brian was a wealthy workaholic. That he’d taken time out of his busy schedule to pay her a visit was his way of saying he still cared. Too bad that caring didn’t extend to her daughter. “What are you doing here, Brian?”
