by Mindy Neff
Donetta would have smiled, but she didn’t want Storm’s mother mad at him. That type of dissention was the very thing she was determined to avoid, the very reason she’d stayed away from him for the past month.
“It does seem funny that Grandma Birdie and my grammy are cruising to Mexico,” Donetta said to Anna. The back rub felt heavenly. Anna was a woman who touched often and well. It was part of her nature, a trait she was rarely conscious of. A total stranger could board an elevator with the woman and find himself the blissfully startled recipient of conversation, un-solicited advice and an impromptu neck massage.
“I thought they were visiting your sister in Florida,” she continued. “Next thing I knew Grammy said she’d loaned out her house for a couple of weeks to some woman I’ve never met, and she was hopping on a ship to see if she could get some action.”
Anna’s hand paused between Donetta’s shoulder blades. “Oh, dear. That doesn’t sound like Betty. That sounds more like something my mother would say. If your grandmother comes home with a man…oh, I hope Birdie doesn’t influence Betty in an illicit manner.”
Donetta grinned when she saw Storm’s raised eyebrows. Picturing either of their grandmothers in an “illicit” anything was a challenge. “Grammy can hold her own, Mrs. C. I’d worry more about Grandma Birdie bringing a man home.”
“You’re right. I don’t even want to think about the possibility. Who’s staying in Betty’s house?”
“Patty Winger and her family. She’s in Grammy’s quilt guild. They had a small fire out at their house and needed someplace to stay while the damages are being repaired.”
“Oh. I remember now. I don’t know how Patty puts up with two grown daughters and three grandchildren living with her. I’d have thought twice about lending my home, but it’s none of my concern. Now, you need some soup, and I’ve got just the thing to fix you right up.” She patted Donetta’s shoulder, then moved back behind the counter.
“You’ll not get bad food in here—I’ll see to that. You should be taking better care of yourself.” Anna shook her head as she bustled around, lifting a lid off a steaming kettle on the stove and ladling mostly broth into an oversize cup.
“You girls. Standing on your feet all day, eating like a bird. Men like curves on a woman. How do you expect to land a husband looking like—oh, my gosh! I did it again. I am so sorry, dear!”
“I’m not interested in landing a husband, Mrs. C. And what did you do again?”
“I’m working on curbing my tendencies to give un-solicited advice—critiquing in a hurtful manner.”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
Just then, Sunny Carmichael came in through the back door. She smiled gently at her mother, obviously having heard the exchange. “Donetta’s smarter than me, Mama. She knows your advice is given out of love. It just took one of us—” she pointed to herself “—a little longer to see that.” Sunny kissed her mother on the cheek, hugged Donetta and glared at Storm.
Storm elbowed his sister. “Netta’s got an advantage, Pip. She didn’t have Mom full-time.”
Donetta was horrified. She quickly glanced at Anna to see if her feelings were hurt. Then she realized that Storm was teasing, and that Anna had already figured that and didn’t take offense.
Growing up, Sunny had often been at odds with her mother, which Donetta had never understood. She would have given anything to have what Storm and Sunny had, to be a true part of the Carmichael family, to claim Anna as her own mother.
Donetta had secretly been thrilled when Anna lectured, interfered and scolded, or offered opinions and advice. Sunny, on the other hand, had chafed, silently hurting, viewing Anna’s comments to her as criticism.
Thankfully they’d worked out their discord and misunderstandings.
Things were different since Sunny had come back home. She’d been gone for ten years, yet her return seemed to have changed the town and everyone’s life in it. Donetta couldn’t explain it, but she knew it felt darned odd.
Now, however, Sunny was clearly upset with her brother. “How could you?” Sunny demanded of Storm. “Where is your sense of decency? Of loyalty?”
“And we would be talking about…?” He let the sentence trail off, apparently hoping she would fill in the blank.
“We’re talking about you being a traitor and closing Donetta’s Secret. I know darn well you could have pulled some strings and let her salon stay open.”
“Maybe. But that building is dangerous the way it is, Pip. This is for Donetta’s own good. She’ll be staying with me for a while.”
Donetta’s jaw dropped open. Sunny gave her brother a pitying look. “Stay with the enemy? I hardly think so.”
“I’m not the enemy, damn it. And you’re my sister. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. But Donetta’s my sister, too, and my friend. We girls are naturally going to stick together.”
Donetta listened to the altercation. It wasn’t by any means out of hand, but it was an example of what could happen. Already, Storm expected Sunny to side with him, and his sister was put in the middle. Just as Cindy had been during the divorce.
Donetta couldn’t bear it if history repeated itself. What if the argument was serious? The decision impossible to make? This was a prime example of why she and Storm couldn’t form a lasting relationship beyond casual friendship.
Instead of passing the food across the counter, Anna came around, shooing everyone out of her way. She set the mug of chicken broth in front of Donetta, along with a plate of crackers and a small bottle of Coca-Cola, which she opened and poured into an ice-filled glass. “Now, you just sip and nibble, and let your tummy get accustomed to the nourishment.”
“Thanks, Mrs. C.” She didn’t have the heart to tell her the broth didn’t even smell appetizing. Her attention was on Storm and Sunny’s sniping.
“Storm,” she said. “I’m not staying with you. I have a perfectly good apartment and I can take care of myself.”
“Let’s talk about this later,” he murmured close to her ear, lifting the mug she had her hand wrapped around and guiding it to her mouth. “You need to eat.”
She sipped, then took a bite of cracker when he pushed it past her lips. Before she could hardly chew, the mug was being tipped again. She balked.
“I can feed myself, thank you.”
“Then do it,” he said softly. After brushing a strand of hair off her cheek, he arranged her long mane of curls over her shoulder and slid onto a stool at her right, swiveling so that he had a view of the door. “Drink some of your Coke. Mama used to give it to us all the time to settle our stomach.”
It was as though they were the only two people in the café. His attention was solely on her, and being the recipient of that type of behavior was so foreign to Donetta that she found herself utterly mesmerized.
He surrounded her with both his size and his presence. One arm draped over the back of her bar stool and the other resting on the counter, he enclosed her in the half circle of his personal space.
After endless minutes where he bullied her into eating and drinking, she noticed that both Anna and Sunny had retreated and were watching with curious smiles on their faces. Oh, no, Donetta thought. She’d have to run some damage control in that area. She didn’t want them building hopes over something that wasn’t going to happen.
She held up a hand. “That’s it. I’m good for now. Why don’t you sweet-talk your mama into fixing you something to eat?”
“She’s likely to poison me.”
Donetta patted his leg and winked. “I’ll taste it for you. If she pounces, we’ll know you should go home and make a sandwich.”
“You’re a real pal, Slim.”
“That I am.” And she wanted to stay that way. Despite the occasional times they got a little crossways with each other, the Carmichael family had always had one another to turn to. But Donetta hadn’t been gifted by birth with that sense of family and unconditional love—and she could not
afford to lose the love and friendship of this surrogate family she had claimed as her own.
STORM DROVE AROUND BEHIND the salon, where the back entrance opened to the staircase leading to Donetta’s small balcony and apartment. He knew in an instant something was wrong. This was his town. He patrolled every inch of it—especially the square that housed his mother’s café and Donetta’s shop.
He cut the lights and drove the truck right up to the rear door of the salon.
Donetta slammed her palm on the dash. “Storm! Are you going to drive right through the wall?”
He flicked on the police radio he kept in the truck and lifted the mike. “Dispatch, one-Adam-one. I need backup for a possible break-in at Donetta’s Secret—2132 Main Street. I’m parked by the rear entrance. Advise the deputy to meet me inside.”
“Copy that, Sheriff.”
He shut off the radio, knowing Margo would dispatch the closest deputy. No sense having radio chatter announcing his presence.
“Stay put,” he said to Donetta. He slid the .38 out of his boot and palmed a flashlight as he got out of the truck, then pushed the door closed just enough to shut off the dome light.
The wood doorjamb was splintered and the strike plate was bent. It had been a flimsy setup to begin with. A kid could pry his way in.
The slight shift of gravel beneath the sole of a shoe sent every one of his senses on alert. For an instant, he was back at that warehouse in Houston, experiencing the flash of awareness that comes too late—recognition that you’re about to get your gut pumped full of lead and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.
But this wasn’t Houston. His muscles strained as he held his body perfectly still, as though he was preoccupied examining the broken lock. Another pebble crunched. He held his breath. One. Two. Three!
He whirled. “Freeze.”
Donetta screamed.
Storm jerked his weapon skyward and flicked the safety. “Hell, Donetta!” His heart drummed so hard small wonder it didn’t knock a hole in his chest.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed? I told you to stay put. I could have shot your ass!”
She had her hand over her heart, and it wasn’t looking too good for his mother’s famous chicken broth to stay down much longer.
She sucked in a deep breath. “You can’t just tell me to stay put and then hop out without waiting for my input.” Her voice was a shaky, fierce whisper, proving she was upset but was still mindful that someone might be inside her salon.
“How do you expect me to stay all by myself in the truck when you’re sneaking around with your gun drawn? Forget it. No way. I’m holding on to the back of your shirt and that’s all there is to it. So deal with it. Do you want my shop key?”
Storm’s adrenaline dropped only slightly. This woman was going to be the death of him. “Not necessary. The lock’s busted. You want to stand here talking all night and wait for somebody to swing open the door and say ‘Boo,’ or shall we go see what’s going on?”
“Do you think someone’s still in there?”
“No. I didn’t see any movement when we drove by out front, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Maybe I should go check my apartment.” She whirled toward the outdoor stairs, but Storm snagged her with an arm around her waist and hauled her right back.
“I want to feel some part of your body touching some part of mine at all times, got it?” He glared at her, deliberately trying to intimidate her. She gave him a “la-di-da” shake of her head, demonstrating that he’d failed miserably. “Got it?” he repeated.
“Yes,” she said in exasperation. “But I think we should wait until your backup gets here. We don’t need to be going in there by ourselves.”
“Right. So, why don’t you get back in the truck, and we won’t be doing anything by ourselves.”
“Oh, just shut up and turn around. Someone’s probably stealing me blind and running out the front door.” Donetta stepped behind him, hooked her hand in the waistband of his jeans and eased up against his back. His body was warm and the evening mugginess was starting to carry a little chill, which was welcome after the soaring temperatures earlier.
He carefully opened the door, and Donetta matched her steps to his as he slipped inside. Despite her brave talk, she slammed her eyes shut and ducked her head behind his back. The width of his body hid hers just fine, but with her platform shoes on, her head would look like an extra target sitting on Storm’s shoulders. She wasn’t all that crazy about impersonating a duck in a carnival booth.
And then she remembered something. Releasing her hold on his pants, she ran her hands over his back and sides, then up around his chest.
Storm reached over and flicked on the lights, nearly blinding her, making her jump.
“Whoever was in here is gone,” he announced, glancing back at her. “Can I help you find something, darlin’?”
Donetta rolled her eyes, even though she could feel her face heat. “I was checking to see if you were wearing your bulletproof vest.” The only thing she’d felt beneath his snug black T-shirt had been nicely sculpted muscles. “And you’re not. So what possessed you to burst in here without waiting for backup?”
She was more upset with him than she’d expected to be, and the feeling was escalating, right along with the queasiness in her stomach.
“Hope Valley isn’t the type of town where peace officers feel compelled to suit up,” he said. “As for ‘bursting’ in—” he flashed her a grin and winked “—thanks for worrying about me, darlin’, but I’m damn good at what I do.”
“Oh, I feel ever so much more reassured.” She didn’t know why she wanted to clobber him. Probably because of the memories bombarding her of the night she’d spent at a Houston hospital as Storm had fought for his life after a bullet had torn through flesh unguarded by body armor.
“Come on, Slim. Stop walking through graveyards. I’m 99.9 percent sure our guy’s gone, but I need to clear the back room anyway. Then we’ll see what’s missing. Although I’ve got a pretty good idea. This job was fast and messy. Definitely not the work of a pro.” He headed toward the office at the rear of the salon, his gun still drawn.
Donetta glanced around to satisfy herself that no one was in the salon, despite Storm’s assurance. The place was messier than she’d left it, and her spirits sank. She didn’t feel well, and now she had extra cleaning and straightening to do. She dreaded even going into her small office. But she didn’t intend to be left standing by herself.
She caught up with Storm in three strides, gripped the back of his shirt and peeked around his shoulder. The door was open. Light from the main salon illuminated enough of the room to suspend Donetta’s breath. It was worse than she’d expected. Files strewn everywhere, product lockers emptied, cabinet doors flung open.
Suddenly, she found herself sandwiched between Storm’s body and the wall.
“Would you please let go of my shirt and stay put?” He said the words over his shoulder, his voice barely audible. “Three seconds is all I’m asking for. If I haven’t shot anybody by then, feel free to grab hold of any part of me you like.”
She flicked back her bangs, lifted her chin. “Fine,” she whispered. “You always were a loner. If you don’t want any backup, then go on and play the hero. And I wish you’d make up your mind. You’re the one who insisted on body contact.”
The irritating man had the nerve to grin at her. Then he did a credible imitation of James Bond and disappeared into the shadowy room. If he had let her carry the gun she wouldn’t have been forced to creep behind him like a fraidy cat.
“All clear, darlin’.” The lights clicked on as he spoke.
She peeled herself off the wall and tugged at her tank top, then rounded the corner as though the situation didn’t bother her a bit. She kept her computer and filing cabinets in the break room, which also served as a kitchen, mixing bar and storage area. Her second look at the disaster didn’t ease the shock.
“
You think Judd did this?” she asked.
“Do you have any other enemies who might be interested in a set of blueprints?” he asked.
“I didn’t think Judd was an enemy. Besides, the blueprints are upstairs in my apartment. So are the work orders and receipts.”
“Then we ought to go check on them.” He looked up as two of his deputies came in with their guns drawn. “All clear, Skeeter,” Storm said. “I’d like for you and Steve to dust the place for fingerprints, though. I’ll bring you in a set of prints later and see if we can get a match.”
“You have an idea who took a dislike to Ms. Presley’s filing system?” Skeeter asked.
“Judd Quentin would be my hunch—the contractor who originally did the remodel on this building. I’ll catch you up to speed later. Keep an eye out, though. Let me know if you see him hanging around. Right now I’m going to check out Donetta’s apartment and get her settled. The lock on the back door’s busted. Board up the rear entrance when you’re finished here, okay?”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
Donetta was eager to get upstairs. The idea of someone pawing through her personal things, touching clothing that she wore next to her body, made her feel violated. She could only hope the culprit had been interrupted before he’d had an opportunity to rifle her apartment.
“I wasn’t hiding the blueprints,” she said, hardly aware that she’d automatically accepted Storm’s hand as they went up the outside staircase. “The cupboard in my bathroom was the only storage space tall enough that they’d fit in.” Which wasn’t totally accurate. Her bedroom closet was tall enough, but shoes took up every square inch of available floor and shelf space.
Using the flashlight to guide their way, Storm reached for the doorknob. When it turned easily, his arm shot out, grazing her stomach. She jumped.
“It’s unlocked. Stand back.”
“I left it unlocked.”
