Divorced, Desperate and Daring (Divorced and Desperate Book 6)

by Christie Craig

  “I just called you, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Uh . . . yeah.” Sheri pushed her palm to her temple.

  “Are you with Danny?”

  “Uh . . . yeah.”

  “So I guess that means he’s coming with us tonight.”

  Tonight? More brain cells started firing and landed on an important piece of information she’d completely forgotten. Dinner at Perry’s.

  “That’s what I was calling him about. To make sure he’s coming with us.”

  “Shit.”

  “Language check,” her mom scolded.

  “Sorry.” Sheri’s gaze shot around the room, landing on the clock. It wasn’t even one yet. Thank God. “I was—” She stopped short of saying sleeping. “Confused.”

  “About what?”

  “Dinner,” she said. “Can I just meet you there? Say six?”

  “I thought I was going to pick you up.”

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “I guess Danny wants to drive, huh?” her mom said.

  “Yeah,” she said, frowning when she realized what she’d said. “No. I mean, maybe.”

  “Are you okay?” her mom asked.

  “Fine,” Sheri lied.

  “Have you read your dad’s letter?”

  Shit! Sheri bit her lip and tried to think of how to answer. For some reason, ‘been kind of busy, avoiding bombs and hit men and being interviewed by the friggin’ FBI, and then getting drunk on brandy’ didn’t sound so good.

  “Sheri?”

  “Can we talk tonight about everything?” Sheri asked.

  “Yes. You sure you’re okay?”

  “Fine as wine,” Sheri said.

  “Okay. I look forward to some wine tonight with a good steak.”

  “Me, too.”

  • • •

  Bomb or no bomb, the consensus was to proceed as planned. But with caution. Danny and Chase moved in as Mark stepped up on Sheri’s porch. At one point, Mark looked over his shoulder at the two of them walking his way but then turned back unconcerned. But his eye did land on a blonde walking past and stayed there for several seconds.

  Danny checked her out. She didn’t hold a candle to Sheri. Why was the guy coming to see Sheri and wasting time checking out some other chick?

  Finally, Mark looked back at the door. As soon as he raised his hand to knock, Danny spoke up.

  “Police. Don’t move,” he said. “Put the package down!”

  Mark didn’t listen. Why was it that no one ever listened? Danny moved in slowly. The man shot around and took a swing. But Danny caught his arm and pushed him against the door. Unfortunately, that’s when the door opened and he, Mark Taylor and the suspected bomb all fell inside.

  Danny landed on the package and held his breath for a fraction of a second, unsure if he was about to be blown up. When nothing happened, he rose up and saw the entire front of his shirt covered in cake. The two FBI agents and Chase Kelly had their guns out, aimed at their perp.

  Danny heard Chase chuckle, no doubt due to Danny’s frosted chest.

  “What the hell is this?” Taylor said, still on the floor.

  “This is what happens when you don’t obey a cop’s order,” Danny snapped.

  “We need to chat with you,” Agent Ferns said.

  Danny stood up, and half the cake sticking to his chest slipped down to the floor. A big chunk had the word birthday scripted across the front.

  So Mark thought he was going to win points bringing Sheri a belated birthday cake. Maybe something Danny should do.

  “You want to talk with guns?”

  “Do you have any weapons on you?” Chase Kelly asked.

  “No. Unless you consider a cake a weapon.” He frowned. “That was my girlfriend’s birthday cake.”

  Girlfriend? With Mark’s eyes on him, Danny ran a finger over the icing and tasted it. “I don’t think she’s your girlfriend.”

  “What’s going on?” Mark asked, his gaze flipping from one man to the next.

  Danny reached down and pulled the guy up. “Hold your hands up and let my friend check you for weapons.” He figured since he’d tackled the guy, Chase could do some of the work.

  The man kept his gaze on Danny but held up his arms.

  Chase patted down Mark. “He’s clean.”

  “What the hell did I do?” Mark spat out.

  “You mean, besides trying to hit a cop?” Danny asked him.

  “I didn’t hear . . . I mean I did, but it didn’t compute until later. That wasn’t my fault. You scared the shit out of me.” He looked around. “Where’s Sheri? She asked me to meet her.”

  “Yeah, well that was sort of us, not her,” Danny said, remembering this jerk had practically stalked Sheri. Then he recalled that this guy had slept with her, and he decided he really didn’t like him. He slowly ran a finger over his chest again and took another taste of the cake. “Is this cream cheese icing?”

  Mark frowned. “I didn’t buy that for you.”

  “Yeah, but since I’m wearing it . . .” Danny smiled and took another taste just to piss him off.

  Chase chuckled again.

  “Come sit down.” Agent Ferns motioned Mark into the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

  And by we, he meant them, because Chase and Danny could have been invisible. After about thirty minutes of questioning that was getting old, Chase motioned Danny to the side.

  Danny moved in. “I don’t like this guy,” he told Chase.

  “Me either, but you can’t tell me you still think he’s our bomber.”

  Danny frowned. He’d pretty much concluded that himself, but he didn’t like acknowledging it.

  “You just called me.” Chase held up his phone, showing Danny’s number.

  • • •

  Danny moved into Sheri’s bedroom to call her. Her smell hung in the room like sunshine in spring, and he inhaled deeply. His gaze went to the bed, only half of the sheets pulled back. He could almost see her imprint there.

  The phone rang twice before Sheri answered. She bypassed the normal greeting.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it’s fine. The FBI guys are talking to him. You okay?”

  “Did he admit to it?”

  “No. He’s saying he’s innocent.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, but the doubt was clear in his voice. “I think he’s agreeing to do a lie-detector test.”

  She sighed. “So he didn’t do it. That means whoever did do it is still out there.”

  “We’re going to find him.”

  She didn’t say anything. He couldn’t even hear her breathe. “You okay?”

  “Yes. No. I have a problem.” Her voice shook a little.

  “What kind of problem?”

  “I need a few things.”

  “What things?”

  “I need my car, clothes. I need my laptop. I need my life back.” He heard her draw in a deep breath. “Can I just go home? If this guy ran off last night, then maybe he won’t come back.”

  He heard the desperation in her voice. And damn it, he’d feel the same way if someone kept him from his place. But no way in hell was he letting her come back here until they were sure they’d caught the freak. Glancing around her bedroom, he saw her closet.

  “I’m in your bedroom right now. I can grab any clothes you need, and your laptop’s in your study, right?”

  She hesitated. “Yeah, but . . .”

  “What?” he asked.

  “I sort of don’t like you going through my underwear drawer.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. Ladies’ underwear and I get along just fine,” he laughed, hoping humor would put her at ease.

  “They’re not your size,” she said, somehow finding the fortitude to joke. He admired her for it.

  He laughed. “What do you need?”

  She hesitated and then started listing what she needed. A pair of jeans, two blouses. A pair of black pumps. A
black dress.

  He pulled the dress from the closet. Even hanging, it seemed to hold Sheri’s shape. He bet she looked hot in it, too. He put everything on her bed.

  “Now, the top drawer in my dresser, the one closest to the door.”

  “Is this the fun part?” he asked.

  “Behave.”

  “Do I get to pick the color?” he teased as he looked down at the panties and bras. “I mean black’s nice. Red’s not bad.” But he kind of liked the pink pair he’d seen in her bag last night. Probably because she’d been wearing pink the night of Cary and Chloe’s wedding.

  She sighed. “Black and red,” she said, but she no longer sounded so desperate.

  “Wait, is this a thong?” he teased, picking up a lacy barely there pair of panties.

  “Not in my drawer. I do not wear thongs,” she said.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Have you ever worn one?” she asked.

  A smiled pulled at his lips. “No.”

  “And why not?” she asked.

  “Comfort, I guess.”

  “Right. Some things aren’t meant to be flossed.”

  He burst out laughing. “Okay, I’m heartbroken and will never look at a thong the same way, but I’ll get over it.” He tossed several pairs of panties and bras on the bed. Then he looked around.

  “Okay, I’ll get your laptop. Anything else?” he asked, a smile lingering on his lips. Damn, he even loved talking on the phone with her.

  “Yeah,” she said, the humor instantly gone from her voice. “In the living room. The little desk. There’s a letter in the drawer.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sheri woke up and stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. It only took a second for all the little ducks in her mind to get in their rows and for her to remember where she was.

  Danny’s. Unfortunately, then she recalled everything else. From brandy and bombs to . . . to her mom’s call.

  To dinner.

  Tonight.

  A slow panic started to build in her chest. How long had she slept? She recalled talking to Danny a little after two. Then she’d called Chloe, and they’d talked, and then . . . then she must have fallen back to sleep.

  She sat up and looked at the clock on the wall. “Shit.” She popped off the sofa. It was five o’clock. In an hour, she had to be at Perry’s.

  “What’s wrong?” a deep male voice asked. Danny’s voice.

  Sheri’s gaze shot to a sleepy Danny, propping himself up on his elbow. The blanket fell around his waist. He was shirtless again. He looked really good shirtless.

  “I . . . I have to meet my mom,” she said. “Did you . . . did you bring my clothes?”

  “Yeah.” He sat up and yawned. “The suitcase is right there.”

  “My car?” she asked. She recalled telling him she needed it, but she couldn’t remember if they’d talked about that.

  “At your place.” He ran a hand over his face.

  “Can you . . . ?” She remembered her mom thought Danny was coming to dinner. That couldn’t be a good idea, could it? “I need . . .”

  “What do you need?”

  Did she even have time to get dressed, have him drive her to her car and get back to the restaurant by six?

  “Would you come to dinner?” This could be another really bad mistake. “Mom called . . . your phone. I . . . answered, and now she . . . kind of thinks you are coming with me.”

  He stood up. “Yeah, I can come.”

  He looked like a kid who’d just been asked to join the football team.

  Did he realize what she’d said? “It’s dinner with my mom,” she said, frowning, not wanting to fool him.

  “I know.” He still appeared too happy. “I . . . I need a shower.”

  “Me, too. But we’ve gotta hurry. I said I’d meet her at six. At Perry’s off Main and Walnut Street. That’s what . . . twenty minutes away?”

  He looked at the clock. “Twenty-five. But we can do it. You use the shower in my master bath. I’ll jump in the guest bath.”

  “I can use the—”

  “No time to argue. Go get your shower.”

  Sheri nodded, grabbed her suitcase and wheeled it down the hall that lead to his bedroom. His room was just as nice as the front of the house. A king-sized bed, not made, centered the room. On one wall was a dresser and mirror, a television on the other.

  She suddenly felt body heat behind her. Right behind her. She looked back at him.

  He shot her another sweet smile that sent butterflies right to her stomach and made being in his bedroom feel naughty.

  “I’ll grab my clothes now. Jeans okay?”

  She had to focus to answer. “With a nice shirt.”

  “You wearing that black dress?” The question came out with anticipation. As if he liked that idea.

  She nodded.

  “Good.” His blue eyes twinkled. He moved across the room to his closet. “I’ll wear khakis then.” He pulled out a pair of pants. She stood there, realizing how crazy this all was. Being here. With him. Talking about what he should wear as if they were . . . a couple.

  He walked over and planted a kiss on her lips. Like they were a couple.

  “Go shower, or we’ll be late.” He turned her around and gave her butt a teasing push toward the bathroom. Like they were a couple.

  She stopped and swung back around, suddenly remembering. “You haven’t told me everything about Mark and what happened.”

  “I’ll tell you on the drive to the restaurant,” he said. “Go get ready.”

  • • •

  Fifteen minutes later she walked out of the bathroom. She’d showered, washed and dried her hair and put on minimal makeup. Physically ready. Mentally still a mess.

  When she went to get her shoes from the suitcase, she saw the letter. Picking it up, she stared at it, knowing her mom would expect her to have read it. Her gaze shifted to the large alarm clock on Danny’s bedside table. Five-thirty.

  No time.

  She let the letter fall back into the case, reading her father’s written words on the front. Happy birthday, Baby Girl.

  No time to read it now. Not when . . . not when she’d probably need recovery time.

  Maybe with Danny there, her mom wouldn’t mention it?

  That was probably wishful thinking, but it didn’t stop her from wishing it.

  Danny had just come in from taking Taco out when she walked into the living room.

  “You look . . . better than I even imagined in that dress,” he said. And until he said it, Sheri hadn’t considered how she looked, or let herself feel good about getting dressed up. She’d been too rushed to think about it. But now, with his appreciative gaze on her, she felt the thrill most women got when they put their best foot forward.

  “You can always count on an LBD,” she said.

  “LBD?”

  “Little black dress.” She smiled and let her gaze take in his khakis and the light blue button-down shirt that made his chest look a mile wide. His freshly showered scent tickled her senses. The blue of the shirt made the color of his eyes pop.

  “You don’t look too shabby yourself.”

  He took her hand and twirled her around as if to check out the dress from all sides. She felt the slightly flared skirt swishing around her legs and a slow kind of heat stirred low in her abdomen.

  “I’m in trouble,” he said, his deep baritone voice sounding sexy and playful.

  And it made her feel sexy and playful. “Why?”

  “You’re probably going to expect me to actually have a logical conversation with your mom. And all I’m going to be thinking about is that dress.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. It’s not that special. Or revealing.” She put her hand over her chest at the scooped neckline that barely showed any cleavage.

  His gaze went there and lingered without shame.

  “No. But that’s the kind of dress that when a man sees it on you, all he can think about is taking it off
.”

  She chuckled and got the distinct feeling he was going to get that opportunity tonight. The fact that his own cousin referred to him as commitment-phobic probably needed to be considered. Add the fact that he’d walked out on her once after a night she thought meant something, and her reservations were validated. But for every doubt she had, he did something that made her doubts feel . . . petty.

  He made her laugh, stood up for her and allowed Mrs. Lamb to photograph him wearing a Little Mermaid party hat. And he hadn’t taken advantage of her when she’d drank too much brandy.

  He made her feel . . . happy.

  He made her feel special.

  He’d asked for a second chance. Hadn’t he earned it?

  She pressed a hand on his chest, remembering their encounter at Chloe’s wedding. “There you go with your smooth lines again.”

  He frowned. “What? You heard that one in a movie, too?”

  The fact that he knew exactly what she was thinking about made his answer that much funnier. And somehow more meaningful. Didn’t the rapport they seemed to have naturally mean something?

  He slid his arm around her, his warm palm fitting into the curve of her waist. “We’d better leave, or I’m going to try to talk you out of going.”

  • • •

  Danny’s gaze caught on Sheri’s legs as she slipped into the passenger seat. The dress couldn’t be described as short, but it showed enough of her thighs to get his heart racing. His lower abdomen muscles tightened. His mind created images of her with the black underwear he’d brought over from her condo.

  He hadn’t been joking about wanting to take that dress off of her.

  And his gut said he actually had a chance at that tonight. The dinner couldn’t be over fast enough. But he also sensed Sheri’s mom was important to her, and he knew he’d have to be patient. Hell, he’d waited six months; he could hold out a few more hours.

  When she struggled to snap in her seat belt, he leaned over and did it for her. Then he kissed her again. A soft, moist kiss he didn’t want to end.

  Down boy. He told the friend in his pants.