Rex pressed his dark muzzle over Megan’s arm, his eyes imploring. She stroked his head, torn by his silent but heart-rending plea. She didn’t want to walk out and leave him in this sterile clinic with the white lights and strong disinfectant and yowling cats.
“We can come back,” Scott said quietly. “Tomorrow night if you’re free.”
It was unwise to spend too much time with Scott, but Rex clearly enjoyed her visit and she hated to leave the dog. He seemed to think she was deserting him—and that was a horrible feeling. However, she had one more thing to do. Still rubbing the base of his ear, she pulled Joey’s shirt from her purse.
She waited, almost afraid to breathe, but Rex didn’t react. He simply stared at her with liquid brown eyes, as though realizing she was going but he still loved her anyway. Her heart cracked.
She stuffed the shirt back into her purse. “See you soon, fellow,” she whispered, then turned and fled from the room. She wasn’t tough enough to look back.
She hurried to the car, waiting while Scott unlocked the door.
“Okay super sleuth,” he said, as he eased the vehicle from the curb. “Whose shirt did you have?”
“Joey’s. It was an old one Eve gave me. Don’t you think Rex would have reacted if it had been Joey who did the bashing?”
“Maybe the scent was too faint.”
“There would have been something. Eve said she hadn’t washed it. And Rex didn’t even twitch. He just wanted me to take him home.”
“I imagine you’re used to that,” he said.
She jerked back against the headrest. He was the one who had women giving their phone numbers, and she expected a little more credit for thinking of the shirt. “Come on,” she said. “Admit it. Rex didn’t react to Joey’s shirt. No growl, no flinch, no whine. Nothing.”
“No, he didn’t react,” Scott admitted. “But it doesn’t prove anything. Animals are notoriously unreliable.”
“But if he growled at a shirt, that would mean something, right?”
“It would give us an indication, yes,” he said, rather reluctantly. He reached over and grabbed her hand. “But I don’t want you running around collecting men’s shirts. Or taking pictures of tattoos. Let me look after this while you concentrate on your courses.”
He spoke about legalities and court issues and a bunch of other stuff but his thumb was rubbing the underside of her wrist, and she always found it hard to concentrate when he touched her. Soon she’d be panting like one of his damn groupies.
“So, what would you like to eat?” He released her hand and turned down the town’s main street. “Garrett said there’re a couple nice restaurants along this strip.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, trying to summon up some enthusiasm. She was more exhausted than hungry and never much liked sitting in stuffy restaurants. However, he seemed determined to keep her close. He was probably angling for another marathon sex session, while she needed to escape and re-erect her crumbling defenses.
The horses couldn’t be used as an excuse since Tami had offered to feed them in exchange for washing her clothes. One thing for sure, Megan was sleeping in her own bed tonight. Her emotions were too frayed, and she needed to regroup. There wasn’t any room for Scott. The problem was she owed him…and she hated owing people.
“You can pick,” she said, gesturing as they passed an attractive seafood house with stained glass windows and a statue of a huge marlin. “Any place you want. I’ll pay.”
“Absolutely not.”
His words came out clipped, and she glanced sideways. His eyes had narrowed and his mouth was clamped in a thin line. She hadn’t meant to insult him, but clearly she had.
She folded her hands on her lap. “I just thought that because you were working for me, helping to find Joey, that it made sense that I buy dinner.”
“Really? Is that what this is about?” He raised an eyebrow and whipped the car in a sharp left.
He was too savvy, and she sighed and pressed her shoulders against the seat. “And then I thought you could drive me home and I wouldn’t feel like we needed to have sex,” she said miserably. “I’m sorry.”
His jaw still looked like it was carved from granite, and her throat felt just as tight.
“You’ve never slept with someone,” he asked, “and not had sex?”
No. But she crossed her arms and gave a disdainful sniff. “We both know that’s the main reason people sleep together. And I’m just too tired tonight.”
He picked up the phone and ordered a pizza but didn’t ask what she wanted on it, so she guessed he was truly annoyed. He stopped at a pizza joint next to a secondhand car dealer and ten minutes later reappeared with a large white box.
He dropped it on her lap but it was much too hot, so she moved it to the floor.
The drive back was silent but not uncomfortable. He didn’t turn the music on and neither of them spoke. The smell from the pizza filled the car, making her mouth water, and she realized she was rather hungry after all.
It made sense to eat a slice or two before she went home, although maybe he was too pissed to give her any. Guys sometimes turned sulky when things didn’t go their way.
He pulled into the driveway of his villa. “You can pay half. Ten bucks,” he said. “Dry your clothes, eat and then I’ll take you home.”
She nodded, rather relieved he was going to share before sending her home. Her stomach rumbled now and there was certainly enough pizza for two.
She followed him into his villa, detouring to the washer where her clothes waited in a soggy clump. She pulled them out and tossed them into the dryer then walked into the kitchen, following the inviting smell.
She climbed up on a stool. He slid a pizza slice in front of her, a thick piece loaded with cheese and meat and vegetables, and it was clear he hadn’t skimped on the ingredients.
Two glasses sat on the counter, loaded with Coke and ice, and she took a grateful sip. Sputtered in shock.
“What’s in this?” she choked, wiping her mouth. “Rum?”
“You’re acting like a guy, so tonight you get a guy’s drink.”
“Fair enough,” she said, so thirsty she took another sip before biting into the pizza. It was only lukewarm now but still delicious. They chewed silently with Scott topping up their drinks while she cut them both another slice.
“I didn’t know I was hungry until I smelled it,” she said.
“You missed a few meals today.”
He didn’t sound quite so pissed, and she gave a cautious smile. “So did you. And you had to deal with Rambo, not the most relaxing ride.” She studied him over the rim of her glass. “Eve might be able to handle that horse,” she admitted, “but I definitely can’t.”
“So why did you offer to take her place?”
His incisive gaze drilled into hers and she shifted on the stool, struggling to think. However, the pizza, the alcohol and her bone deep weariness bogged down her brain, and she couldn’t think of a plausible excuse that wasn’t a lie. “That’s really between Eve and me,” she said. “And her friendship is important. Could I have a little more rum?”
He obligingly poured a generous amount of amber fluid into her glass, followed up with a splash of Coke then rinsed the dishes, ignoring her attempts to help. Finally she gave up and simply propped her elbows on the table, sipped her drink and tried not to yawn.
He wiped the counter, studying her face, then tossed the dishcloth in the sink. “Come on,” he said, snagging his glass and the bottle.
She followed him into the living room, pausing to listen for the dryer. Still whirring. Three pairs of Tami’s jeans, two of hers, a bunch of shirts and underwear—drying would probably take another twenty minutes and then she’d leave, despite what Scott wanted.
Actually, he didn’t seem to care that she wasn’t staying. He’d turned on the TV and watched intently as a massive guy with no neck explained to a pretty interviewer why he was retiring. She hesitated, wondering if she should
just leave and pick up the clothes in the morning.
“Sit down.” He patted the sofa beside him. “Ever watch much football?”
“No.” She hit the coffee table with her knee and sat down, feeling unusually clumsy.
“Ever had a boyfriend who watched it?” he asked, managing to refill their drinks without shifting his attention from the screen.
She held her glass up against the light, studying the ice cubes and the marks her fingers left on the condensation. “I never had much time for television or sports.” Or boyfriends. “It’s been really busy, trying to get established,” she added.
“Really busy, but you left it for jock school?”
She shot him a wary look but he seemed engrossed in the screen, not paying her much attention. “Yes, well I heard a lot of things about this school.” She took another sip, surprised the rum was going down so easily. Normally she preferred wine. “And it’s good to do that kind of stuff, you know, when you can.”
“When you can?” He glanced sideways, his eyes gliding over her face. “What do you mean?”
“It’s good to go away, do things before you have other commitments, like kids and stuff.” She waved a hand, almost spilling her drink. “You know, people shouldn’t take off when they have commitments. They should be dependable.”
He turned from the television, even though the people seemed to be sharing a hilarious joke, and pried the glass from her hand. “So that’s why you’re so skittish,” he said.
“Skittish? You make me sound like a horse. And I’m not at all skittish.”
His smile was slow and gentle. “I think you had a boyfriend, and he was crazy enough to treat you badly.”
She shook her head but the motion made her dizzy so she stopped and pressed a finger against her lip, realizing they were slightly numb. “No boyfriend. They’re not dependable.”
He slipped his arm over her shoulders. “I’m dependable, sweetheart. And when you’re finished the riding program here, I’m going to visit you in L.A. See the little earrings you make, lie on your sofa and drink beer, and when you let me, watch some football.”
She tilted her head, imagining him squeezed into her house. He was big and there was hardly enough bare floor to walk. When she’d first started her business, it had been more organized, with everything contained to a single room. Now the studio stretched and her creations covered every horizontal space. Her sofa was tiny too. There’d be no room for him at all. She could afford a bigger place but it seemed like too much trouble. Besides, she loved her privacy there, nestled in the foothills but still close to the city.
“And sometimes we’ll have sex,” he went on, his voice a soothing rumble, “and sometimes we won’t. But we’ll still sleep together.” He tilted her chin. “We have a good thing here. Don’t fight it.” His eyes locked on her face and for a moment he looked uncertain, which was odd because she doubted he’d ever been uncertain in his life. “So…how’s that sound to you?”
“The sex part sounds okay,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. But he was scowling now, looking rather intimidating, and she didn’t want to admit that even a dog was too much of a commitment. Although dogs were loyal, especially ones like Rex. Maybe she should get a dog.
She was starting to like being around people too, even though Tami’s constant chatter sometimes hurt her head. She’d definitely miss Scott. He was dependable and if he said he’d do something—like help find Joey—he’d do it. It was unfortunate he was Garrett’s good friend.
“You’re missing the point here, sweetheart.” He sighed as she rattled the ice in her empty glass. “And you don’t need any more to drink.”
Her thoughts were skipping and she couldn’t remember what they were talking about and the television screen was dark. Her head felt fuzzy, and it couldn’t all be blamed on exhaustion. Her last few drinks had been less Coke and more rum, and she’d matched him glass for glass.
“You’re the one who wanted me to drink rum,” she said, “and I’m not used to it.” She tried to look indignant. However, it had been excellent rum. In fact, it had been the smoothest drink she’d ever enjoyed.
“A common investigative technique,” he said, tucking her head against his shoulder, a spot that was oddly comfortable despite its hardness. “I’m thinking you were married before?” He lifted her hair and rubbed the skin on her neck. “Obviously, unhappily.”
His fingers felt good and she didn’t want to dislodge them, so she was careful not to shake her head.
“I’ve never been married,” she murmured, her face pressed into his soft shirt. “I started the jewelry business right out of university. It’s been really, really busy. Much too busy to let bossy men lie on my sofa and drink beer.”
“I see.” His voice softened as though he was smiling. “Then why did you leave such a booming career? Why did you choose jock school?”
She tilted her head, studying his aggressive cheekbones, the stubborn line of his jaw. He wasn’t the type to give up easily—that was obvious from all she’d read on the Internet. It would be comforting to tell him the truth, to admit why she was really here, to share her suspicions about the school.
About Garrett’s school.
She swallowed and traced the raised abrasion on the side of his forehead. When they’d first met, he’d refused to talk about it. But they were definitely talking now. Or at least she was. “How did this happen?” she asked.
“A kidnapping case. The money was paid, but they didn’t plan to let the kid go.”
She knew it was the Stevens case, knew his role in it, yet he obviously wasn’t the type to brag. If she admitted she was Joey’s sister, he’d probably keep his mouth shut. Although maybe not around Garrett.
Her finger drifted over the tiny mark on his cheek, a scar, not a dimple, that made him look oddly vulnerable. He remained still, as though aware she was deciding something.
“Garrett and I were target shooting,” he said, his eyes on her face. “A piece of rock cut me.”
“You’ve been friends a long time,” she whispered. “Do you trust him?”
“With my life.”
“That’s a very good friend.” Too good a friend. Obviously he’d side with Garrett. She flattened her mouth and turned away, listening for the dryer. “I have to go,” she added. “Think my clothes are ready?”
He tilted her chin, pulling her attention back. “Who do you trust? Don’t think. Quick.” He spoke with authority.
“Eve,” she said.
“Interesting. You’ve only known her a few weeks. That’s it?”
She frowned and pulled away. “You made me rush,” she said. “There’re all kinds of other people. Besides, you only said one. You say two names quickly, see how hard it is.”
“Snake, T-Bone.”
“Too weird. You’re making those people up.” She lurched to her feet. “And I really have to go. I’ll get the clothes tomorrow.”
He rose, much more gracefully than she, and strode down the hall. “I’ll walk you back,” he said over his shoulder, “but first I need a jacket. It’s damn cold tonight.”
She tagged along beside him, disappointed at the prospect of a fifteen-minute hike. “Wouldn’t it be easier to take your car?” she asked hopefully. “Since we’re both sleepy.” She studied his face but he didn’t look tired. In fact, his expression looked almost mischievous.
“I’m not driving,” he said, pulling on a jacket. “I’ve been drinking.”
“It’s private property,” she said weakly. “And there’s no one around.”
But he shook his head and swung open the door, letting in a rush of night air, so cold it prickled her skin. She stepped back and eyed the closet. “Do you have an extra jacket I could borrow?” she asked.
“Nope. Sorry. But if your roommate has company and you need to wait in the barn, I can unlock the tack room and find you a horse blanket.” He adjusted the collar on his jacket, studied her for a moment, then reached back in the closet
and made a show of pulling on gloves.
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Never mind looking for a scarf and hat,” she said. “Maybe it would be easier if I just slept here tonight.”
“Good idea.” He grinned and quickly closed the door. “But we both need our sleep, so no sex. No matter how much you beg.”
“Fine.” She was keen to climb into bed, any bed, but hated to accept she’d been outmaneuvered. “But I need to get up early so please set the alarm for five.” She returned his smile with a teasing one of her own. “I’ll try very hard not to wake you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Clothes rustled from Tami’s side of the room, and Megan guessed it was time to get up. However, neither her body nor brain seemed inclined to listen. Her mouth felt dry but not so dry she wanted to relinquish those last precious moments of sleep. The bed sagged and a big hand curved around her hip. Not the dorm then. She pried open her eyes, peering through the gloom at Scott’s shadowed face.
“Did I sleep in?” she whispered.
“Yup.” He tugged her into his warm body. “Your horses are fed. Go back to sleep.”
“But who did it? Were you at the barn?” She propped an elbow on his chest, trying to see the clock, guessing it must be after six based on the light beyond the curtain.
“You need to catch up on your sleep, sweetheart.” His voice turned husky. “So quit wiggling.”
She could feel his growing hardness and immediately stilled. “So you fed Rambo and Jake? But I still have to clean their stalls. And you don’t even know what they eat.”
“Relax. I just offered an A to anyone who’d look after them. When I left, Tami and a bunch of other students were fighting for the job.”
“Scott, that’s not even funny. I have to go.” But his hand caressed her breast now, his mouth nuzzled her neck and her voice lacked conviction.
“Actually I told Lydia how busy you were finding a home for Rambo and she said to take the day off.”
“But I already found him a home.”
“She doesn’t know that.” He chuckled, his breath warm against her throat. “And she’s very grateful for your efforts. Now do you want more sleep? Because I’m trying to prove how dependable I am. And I don’t want to blow it.”
HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) Page 22
