“An update on the case.” Oliver wore a strange expression. He stood with his hands on his hips, biting his lower lip and staring at an unremarkable spot on the floor. “Molly said Brendan Berkley resigned from Free Leaf Concepts today.”
Molly said...
It clicked, that small thing that had been driving Kay crazy for days, ever since Brit’s arrest. “Oh, my God. Oliver....”
He rushed to Kay’s side. He braced her hip, the other hand gently cradling her back. “Hey, you all right? What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“Molly said.” She stared at Oliver. “Molly said. Shit.”
“Kay, what are you talking about?” His green eyes scoured Kay’s face, worried and anxious.
“Molly,” she said. “I know I sound crazy repeating myself, but I’m in shock. I knew there was a pattern. The missed connection between Mr. Arnell and Jasper. The college courses linking Amos to Brendan, and subsequently, Brendan to Brit Lars. A determination to remain connected to you, the man running point on the investigation. Oliver, you said you didn’t think there was anything between you and Molly. Maybe you were right. Maybe she played that card because it gave her an excuse to stay in your circle.”
Oliver’s brow creased in consternation. He gripped both of Kay’s shoulders as if to steady her. “Babe, you’re not making any sense. Molly is jealous because you and I—”
“No.” Kay wanted to shout, to make him hear. “No, not jealous. It was never about that. You told me she was upset I entered into the investigation as something like a partner, but not because she was jealous. She wanted to be the one you shared information and theories with. She needed to know how close you were to tying things together. Oliver, call Cappy Don. Have him look into the background checks Molly was responsible for. I’ll bet my house she carried them out herself, and altered them. Even mine, hoping to catch you off guard, keep you distracted.”
“You just said she didn’t want us together. Why would she use you to distract me from the case?”
“She didn’t expect me to figure you out, or for us to end up working together. She underestimated me. People do that a lot.”
Oliver still looked unsure.
“Oliver, think. She’s in a perfect position to control the investigation, by controlling the intelligence. She took those plant samples from you and let the lab run them because she knew they weren’t connected. One report is off, fine. Mistakes happen. But it happened more than once. You said yourself, Molly knew about Brendan’s degree in pharmaceuticals. It’s not her job to decide which information is relevant to your case, Oliver. If she kept that to herself, she had a reason. I’ve got one more wager for you. If you dig deep enough, you’ll find she’s somehow connected to Brit Lars or Brendan Berkley.”
“You think Molly is involved in the drug ring.” Oliver said the words slowly.
Kay shook off his grip. “If you won’t look into it, I’m sure I can convince the captain my hunch is worth a little research to see if I’m right.”
Oliver shook his head and exhaled heavily. He planted his hands on his hips and studied Kay. “I’ll make the call.”
* * * *
Kay’s hands were white with old plaster, ancient wallpaper glue, and sweat. She leaped off the stepladder at the sound of heavy footfalls coming onto the porch.
Oliver had been gone the entire day. Not a text or a call, and Kay had been too apprehensive to reach out. She’d either unearthed a deeper plot, or irrevocably damaged Oliver’s relationship with one of his coworkers.
“Well?” she prompted, the moment he stepped through the doorway and closed the door gently. If they were going to argue, they might as well get it over with.
For an uncomfortably long while, Oliver stood by the door. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were bright with exhaustion. His mouth was pinched close. “I owe you an apology. I underestimated you, too.”
Kay grabbed a nearby hand towel and distracted herself from the heavy atmosphere by trying to rub the grime from her skin. Oliver leaned against the door as if standing were suddenly a chore. She used her foot to push the stepladder toward him. “Sit down before you fall over. What happened today?”
He dropped onto the stool and rubbed his face. “Molly was arrested. Brendan, Amos, and Brit were all questioned a second time. Brit decided to strike a deal, gave us everything on Molly. You were right. They’re distant cousins. They practically grew up together. Amos and Brendan were released. For some reason, no one will talk about Brendan. We know he’s involved somehow, but he’s being collectively protected.” Oliver peered up at her. “Unless you’ve got another epiphany you want to lay on me?”
She stifled a grin. She couldn’t tell if he was genuinely annoyed she’d figured it out before him, or genuinely hoping she could think of some dangling thread with which they could tie down Brendan Berkley. “Sorry. I got nothing. How are you feeling? About everything.”
He cocked an eyebrow, and a faint glimmer of amusement shone in his gaze. “You mean finding out I dated a drug dealer, if only briefly? Or finding out she only pretended to be hot for me so she could get first dibs on intelligence I picked up? Because I’m feeling how you’d imagine. Relieved. Thank God she was a terrible seductress. What if I’d fallen in love?”
Kay pulled a face. “Tragic.”
“And I’m happy.” His expression didn’t mirror the statement, but he sounded pleased. “Locking these people away is a pretty good start to getting justice for Manny."
“Your friend,” Kay said sadly. “I was sorry to hear about that. What does this mean for you? Are you sticking around until you bring Brendan down? Another undercover gig?”
His gaze dropped. “I’m no longer a viable option for undercover work. Photo made the paper today. Me standing next to the captain outside the precinct after Brit’s arrest.” Color rose in his cheeks.
“And that’s got you blushing?”
A quick flash of a grin came and went. “Not exactly, no.”
“I see.” She saw nothing. She figured his role would change once they uncovered their guy inside Free Leaf Concepts. Would he have gone deeper undercover if his identity hadn’t been shared publicly? “Then what’s next for you?”
He sighed and studied the walls. The foyer was almost done, with the exception of the last few diehard strips of wallpaper that simply refused to budge. Together, they’d soaked the walls last night, and were using putty knives to force the wallpaper off.
“I toyed with the idea of going home. My old captain reached out. He’s ready to welcome me back with open arms. I’m a hero.” He betrayed a brief, wry smile.
Kay’s heart twisted. “But...” She couldn’t get out the words. The inn, their confessions. What did any of that mean if Oliver returned to Jonesboro? She couldn’t follow him. She had a brand-new career and a home she’d made it her life goal to renovate. She had a wealth of love in her heart for Oliver, but she didn’t know if she could give up everything else for him.
Or could she?
In her heart, she wanted to follow Oliver wherever he went. Jonesboro, Canada, the moon. This big house was important to her. It was her dream to restore it. But it couldn’t love her back. It couldn’t fulfill her or sustain her like love returned. Yes, she could give up her manor for Oliver.
He watched her keenly. “Or,” he said quietly, “I could stay. Cappy Don gave me the update, then invited me to join him indefinitely. A team leader, in fact, on the task force assigned to the drug ring.”
Did she dare believe it was hope in his stare? Kay brushed her hands together, betrayed by their slight trembling. She opened her mouth twice, only for nothing to emerge. An unnamed fear held her back.
Oliver closed the gap between them in a few easy steps. Inches from her, he stopped. He’d meet her halfway, but he wouldn’t force her. The rest of the distance was hers to cover, should she choose to. “So, all the love stuff we talked about. That was real. Is real. But
love and reality don’t always jive. I want the whole package. I want to be with you every day, live with you in your big mansion, fumble my way through helping you realize your dream of this place. But maybe you’re not ready for all that. The heavy stuff. But if you are, and if you want, I could stay.”
“And if I don’t?” she dared.
“Then I’ll go. Because I’m not staying without you. It would defeat the purpose.”
A slow smile took over her mouth against her will. At a glance, he appeared relaxed. But Kay recognized the tightness at the corners of his mouth, the way he kept pressing his lips together, and how his gaze slid from hers. “You’re an idiot.”
His mouth fell open.
“Didn’t expect that?” she probed sweetly. “Oliver, I couldn’t breathe a minute ago, because I thought you were trying to tell me good-bye. In those fifteen seconds, I sold my house and moved to Jonesboro. Not without some measure of regret, of course, but I’d do it if you asked. I’d do it to be with you.” She closed the gap between them and slid her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest. His arms encircled her. “I’m ready. If it’s you, I’m ready, because this isn’t anything like what happened with Finn.”
“What’s it like?” His soft murmur whispered against the top of her head.
“Base jumping.”
Low laughter rumbled in his chest, and he squeezed her against him in a brief, fierce hug. “Not sure if that’s a favorable comparison or not.”
“My heart is thundering in my chest, my palms are sweating, but I’m thrilled and excited and ready to dive. I’m terrified, but I want it. So, yes. Stay. Please stay.”
“As you wish.”
Kay lost track of the minutes they stood locked together, but there was no need to count when they had forever.
THE END
Rumor has it, she can’t resist…
MEN LIKE THIS
A Long Shot Romance
Roxanne Smith
Can she trust a man who pretends for a living?
Horror author Quinn Buzzly knows all about the dark side, but when she meets actor Jack Decker, she’s moved to explore something completely different—at least on paper. With his sexy good looks, intriguing manner, and charming Irish-tinged English accent, Jack is the perfect model for her next hero. Quinn decides to spend one year in London writing a historical romance inspired by him. Until real life butts in…
Jack’s jealous ex-fiancée sparks a media storm when she accuses him and Quinn of having an affair. But Jack knows how to play this game. At his insistence, Quinn agrees to go along with the faux romance until the chatter subsides. Then they’ll stage a quiet breakup and go their separate ways. Yet Jack is a shameless—and irresistibly convincing—flirt, and Quinn has to remind herself it’s an act. Or is it? If Jack means business, he’ll have to find the words to convince a wordsmith that their love is the real thing . . .
Chapter 1
Quinn gaped at Richard as if he’d grown an extra appendage in front of her eyes. He might as well have. He was alien to her, despite having known him for many years. “I’m giving you about three seconds to explain.”
He had the nerve to smile. It showed off the large glaringly white teeth inside his too-perfect mouth on his too-perfect face. “You don’t like it?” His dark gaze wandered, his approval apparent. “I really thought you would.”
They were at a nightclub called Sabini’s in Hollywood—Quinn deplored Hollywood. A small treasure of a private bar hid deep in the bowels of the rowdy club: quiet, classy, and far from the maddening wump-wump-wump of the dance floor down the hall. Yes, she liked it.
No, she wasn’t going to admit it.
She crossed her bare arms, partly from the chill but mostly to show Richard she meant business. “Our relationship demands trust. Why would you lie to me, Richard?”
He spared a quick glance at her defensive posture. “Cold?” When she didn’t respond, he waved off her concern. “All I’ve done is taken you out. Is that so bad?”
A jolt of agitation shot through her. Had he lost his mind? Had one too many cocktails earlier? “Yes, I’d say it was! You dragged me across a nasty dance floor wearing a silk ball gown and diamond brooch worth more than your house. You said my sister planned this. I want an explanation, and I want it now.”
Richard continued to scan the bar, unruffled by her outburst. “I brought you through the front because I left my key to the private entrance at home. I apologize.” He sat on one of the backless cowhide bar stools and lifted a hand for the bartender. “Bottle of champagne, please. Two glasses.”
The busty young woman who could’ve still been driving on a learner’s permit smiled. Her gaze roamed freely over Richard before she dashed off to fulfill his glamorous request.
Quinn fought the urge to stick her finger down her throat. Champagne? Who was he kidding?
He turned back to her and patted the seat beside him as if beckoning her to join him like she were some wayward, spoiled child. “Your feet must hurt.” His eyes were kind, and his smile knowing. “Angie has excellent fashion sense, but you shouldn’t have let her talk you into those heels.”
He spoke the truth.
Quinn’s feet throbbed from the towering stilettos she had no business wearing. She planned to set fire to the outrageous instruments of torture the very day they lifted the burn ban in L.A. and fight harder for the ballet flats next time.
She scowled at Richard for being right but sat anyway. The blood rushing back into her feet made her woozy with relief. With some effort, she refocused on Richard. “Quit stalling and tell me what we’re doing here, or I’m walking out. If I have to call a cab to get home, I swear, I’m taking my next project to someone else.”
Richard’s dark and impeccably shaped eyebrows shot up. His mouth fell open. Finally, a dent in his smooth surface. “You wouldn’t.”
He didn’t sound so certain.
Quinn smiled at having the upper hand. “I damn sure would. Like I said, this is a trust thing. It was odd when you told me Emily wanted to get together in Hollywood, but I told myself you wouldn’t do anything weird. Then you go and order champagne. It keeps getting weirder, and you refuse to tell me what’s really going on. You don’t own a white windowless van, do you? Or have duct tape in your suit pocket?”
He didn’t appear amused. In fact, he managed to appear unaffected, his impenetrable feathers were back in place. Her show of humor must’ve left him with the incorrect impression she’d be easily managed.
“You’re over thinking this. We had a successful night at the fund-raiser. You’re gorgeous. I wanted to have an after-party drink with my favorite client. There’s nothing weird about wanting to prolong a nice evening with a friend.”
He couldn’t have mocked her any clearer.
She couldn’t have cared any less. “Except for your conniving, I’d agree. Why didn’t you simply ask?”
“I wanted to surprise you.” He smiled his horse-toothed smile. It ruined everything he had going for his face. “Surprise.”
The champagne arrived. He handed her a dainty flute. “Drink this.” The sweet condescension in his voice nearly undid the frail threads holding Quinn’s temper in check, but she kept her grip on the reins—until she glanced at her glass.
It practically brimmed over with the sparkly wine. A sudden burst of insight hit her. “You’re trying to get me drunk.”
“Now, Quinn—”
“You used my sister to lure me here knowing I’d never come willingly. Real classy.” Quinn came out of her seat, disgusted and angry. She growled at the sharp jabs of pain shooting through the soles of her feet.
Richard must’ve taken the growl as meant for him. “Quinn, calm down, please. Yes, I’m attracted to you. Yes, I thought this was the only way I’d ever get a date with you.”
“This is not a date!” Despite her pain, she stamped her foot. The small click of her heel failed to make the desired impa
ct.
Richard placed a hand on her arm. “Obviously.”
Her fingernails dug into her palms as her hands formed angry little fists at her sides.
Richard didn’t notice. His primary concern seemed to have shifted from her to their audience. “You’re causing a scene. You asked for an explanation, now allow me to give one before you get us kicked out.”
Quinn seethed but didn’t interrupt this time. A lift of her brow invited him to continue.
He cleared his throat and straightened his black silk bowtie. Since they’d come from the prestigious city fund-raiser, he was in a tuxedo jacket and slacks.
They’d been a striking pair. Quinn wore a black strapless gown and styled her long blond hair into an elegant chignon that displayed the diamond drops in her lobes. They matched the cluster pinned to the front of her gown.
In this casual setting, they looked like a bad joke. Overdressed and ill behaved. “You have to understand, Quinn. We work together closely. We talk every day. It’s not strange I’m attracted to you. Asking you out seemed unprofessional.”
Quinn nearly choked on her unspoken reply. This wasn’t unprofessional? Her jaw practically unhinged at Richard’s startling lack of self-awareness.
“I figured if we went out casually and had a few drinks, things might take their natural course.”
A shrug accompanied the statement to show how big of a deal it wasn’t, but Quinn saw red. She jabbed at his shoulder with an accusing finger. “I’m not stupid, Richard. You celebrate with a glass of champagne. There are completely different motives at play when you order an entire bottle. You weren’t hoping for slightly tipsy. You were going for totally sloshed. Then what? You’d take me back to your place and pretend it got out of hand?”
“No, I’d never—”
Quinn turned away. She braced her hands against the bar in an effort to stay on her bruised feet and tried to breathe. “You sure as hell would. After what Blake did, there’s nothing I’d put past a man.”
Love on the Vine Page 24
