by Mindy Neff
He swung around with the flashlight aimed at her. She didn’t need to see his frown. She could hear it. “You had a memory lapse.” Part statement, part question, total rhetoric.
“No. I live in Hope Valley, remember? No call for body armor or locked doors—usually.” She was about to open the door, but he pushed it wide, then stretched an arm in to flick on the light switch.
“Holy smoke. This is purely malicious and uncalled-for.”
Donetta sidled past him. She should have been embarrassed by the mess, but to her the laundry scattered on the sofa waiting to be folded, the magazines spilling off the coffee table and the newspapers she’d read and tossed on the floor beside her favorite chair were a chaos that spelled freedom.
She didn’t need a shrink to tell her the disorder was a form of rebellion, a reminder that she was in control now and could do whatever she pleased. Tim had been adamant about keeping a perfectly clean and organized house. For the past two years, Donetta often left her wet towels on the floor just because she could.
“No one’s been in here.”
His brows shot up. “Did you throw a fit?”
“Cute. I’m not the best housekeeper. Beneath the clutter, though, it’s clean.”
She glanced at her unmade bed on her way through to the master bathroom, wishing she could detour and curl up on the soft sheets, forget about this nightmare of a day.
Storm followed her into the small bathroom, where she opened the wood cabinet door that had a tendency to stick due to fifty-plus years of paint layers. By the time she’d finished remodeling the salon and most of the apartment she’d exhausted her funds and had had to skimp on bathroom improvements.
“I guess lack of storage space in the salon turned out to be a good thing. The drawings are still here, thank—”
She broke off when she heard Storm draw in a swift, ragged breath.
“Donetta? Are you pregnant?”
Chapter Six
Donetta whirled around, adrenaline blasting through her system with a scorching heat that slicked her hands and closed her throat. Pinpoints of light flickered before her eyes.
Storm stared at her, holding the pregnancy test strip as if it were crucial evidence in a volatile, unsolved case.
Oh, God. She’d completely forgotten about the home test kit. Just as she’d never expected the city would lock her out of her business, she’d never dreamed Storm Carmichael would end up standing in her master bathroom.
“Donetta? I asked you a question.” His voice was deadly quiet.
She snatched the plastic strip away from him. “That’s none of your business.” She could hardly draw in enough breath to get the words out.
“Try again, darlin’. You left it sitting out in plain sight. According to the information on the box, two lines indicate positive results.”
“Well, at least we know your college education didn’t go to waste. You can read. And you’ve answered your own question. I guess that means you got high marks for cognitive skills.” In light of the muscle working in his jaw and the barely leashed anger in his eyes, she was a little surprised at herself for going head-to-head with him.
“If you’re through evaluating my intelligence, I think we should discuss this baby. I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me sooner. The timing’s right—the sickness…”
“There’s nothing to discuss, Storm. So just drop it, okay? I’ve got everything covered.”
“Like hell you do. I have a say in this.”
“What makes you so sure?”
In a move so swift it left her dizzy, he had her backed against the wall, his hand firmly cupping her face so she couldn’t turn away. Everything inside her froze, trapped in the icy shock of an all-too-familiar dread.
The look, feel and taste of a man’s anger hung in the air, and she found herself without the safety net she counted on. The tiny sea-green-and-pink-tiled bathroom suddenly took on the personality and feel of the elegant marble bathroom from her nightmares. She was unsafe in the haven of rebellion she’d created to signify freedom. Unsafe with the friend she’d known for more than twenty years.
“I’m a detail man, and I don’t miss many. I know damn well it was a good long time since you’d made love. That’s how I’m sure.” His voice was so low it might have been a caress if not for the vibration of anger. “You try to hide beneath that seductress front, but it doesn’t work with me. Your body gives you away—which I can prove in two seconds flat. Now, do you really want to play this game with me, Donetta?”
She shook her head, swallowed hard. Her heart hammered as fear clawed its way up her throat. She reminded herself this was Storm. The guy she’d known since she was in kindergarten. “No.”
“Good. Now, I want you to pack a bag. You’re coming home with me. And we will discuss my child.”
“Coming home…? You’re nuts. You can’t order me around. I’m not—”
“I didn’t ask. If I have to carry you out of here, Donetta, I will. I want you where I know you—and my baby—will be safe.”
She’d been bombarded with one thing after another today, and she was teetering on the verge of a major meltdown. His aggression threatened to tip the balance, but she fought to remain steady.
“I’ll go stay with Sunny and Jack. Or—”
“And take a chance on putting them at risk? I don’t know enough about this contractor you more or less handed the keys to, but a first-year rookie could figure out that the guy’s been feeding you a pack of lies and you’ve been swallowing them like candy. I didn’t like his cocky attitude, and I sure don’t trust him, especially now that his house of cards is collapsing.”
“My salon’s collapsing, too.”
“Which leads us back to an obvious trail. Until I get a positive ID on your burglary and determine intent, Judd Quentin is at the top of my list of suspects. You have something he wants and that makes him unpredictable. I don’t like it when somebody has an agenda I don’t know about.” He paused, letting the beat of silence weight his words. “Especially when it involves the safety of people I care about.”
Donetta wanted to scream. She didn’t have an agenda regarding the baby. Not yet, anyway. Maybe his cop antenna was overly sensitive about Judd, but that didn’t matter. He was right. There was no way on earth she’d ever put one of her friends at risk.
Grammy’s house wasn’t an option since the Wingers were staying there. She could take a room at the motel, but she needed every spare penny she owned to bring her shop up to code. Despite Storm’s bullying, she didn’t wholly trust Judd Quentin to show up in the morning, and that would mean hiring another contractor. Plus, every day she was shut down meant lost income, which would likely make her mortgage check bounce like a Super Ball.
Anxiety billowed in her chest, squeezed her lungs. With Storm on a tear about the baby and nefarious suspects, she could pretty much guarantee he’d want to park himself in her motel room—at least to guard his child. And wouldn’t that just delight Darla Pam Kirkwell to no end. By morning, it would be all over town that Storm Carmichael and Donetta Presley were shacking up at the Hope Valley Motel. That was all she needed. Shades of her mother all over again.
“You know I’m right,” he said.
He was still crowding her against the bathroom wall. She felt like a wild animal trapped in a snare. She couldn’t think. Her hard-won independence was slipping through her fingers. The scream inside her churned, ramming against the restraints of dignity.
“You’ve got ten seconds. After that, you’ll have to make do with what I pack.”
Sound rushed in her head, buzzed in her ears. She’d sworn never again to give a man power over her, never again to obey a command like a sad-eyed mutt.
“Give in, Donetta.”
Emotion erupted like spewing lava. “No! I can’t! I won’t. Don’t you see? It’s the same as being beaten into submission! And I won’t ever let—” She clapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to blurt that. Oh, God.
As shock turned his bones to chalk, Storm jumped back, giving her plenty of room, his gut clenching, his mind whirling, his emotions all over the place. He wondered why he couldn’t fill his lungs, why he felt as though a bullet had slammed into his Kevlar vest. Why was he still standing when the force of impact had knocked the breath out of him?
She’s afraid of me.
In the maelstrom of learning Donetta was pregnant, he hadn’t been paying attention to her signals. What he’d thought was her usual stubbornness was actually masking sheer fear.
He’d had her pinned against the wall, for God’s sake, concentrating on his own sense of betrayal because she hadn’t told him about his child.
And she’d been terrified.
It’s the same as being beaten into submission.
God, he wanted to tear her ex-husband apart. He decided right then that he didn’t want the likes of Tim Dilday in his town.
He reached for her, intending to soothe, to apologize, and he saw her flinch. He made a Herculean effort to tamp down his anger—not only at her ex, but also at her for even thinking he could be lumped in the same category as Dilday.
Keeping his hands gentle, he cupped her bare shoulders and drew her against his chest.
“I had no idea, Netta.” His palm swept over her spine, down and up, then rested between her shoulder blades, his fingers splayed beneath the fall of her thick red hair as he held her close. After a moment, her resistance eased and she laid her head against his collarbone.
“I swore I’d never be controlled by a man again,” she whispered.
“Shh. I know. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? You know you could have called me.”
“You were in Houston.”
“So? I’d have come home and kicked his sorry ass from here to China.”
Just thinking about that time in her life made Donetta’s insides knot. “I was ashamed that I’d allowed it to happen.” She shifted so his metal sheriff’s star wouldn’t imprint itself in her chest, kept her head tucked against his neck. It wasn’t often that she could comfortably lay her head on a man’s shoulder while wearing four-inch platforms. Ironic that their bodies fit so well, when their lives were so hopelessly out of sync. “I told Sunny.”
She felt his chin shift against her hair as he nodded. Then he eased her back so he could look in her eyes.
“My sister is definitely loyal. She never breathed a word. Did my mom know?”
She shook her head. “Just Sunny. I went to stay with her in California for a couple of months.”
He kissed the arch of an eyebrow. “Let me start over, okay? Please come home with me. I’m worried about you, and I only want to make sure you’re safe. We’ve got blueprints that I’m ninety-nine percent sure will spell out a larger electrical panel and GFI plugs. That proof could land Quentin in deep trouble. Not only fraud for taking your money and not providing the proper materials, but he could face felony charges if he willfully bypassed the ground on those breakers. He knows that.”
“If you think he’s so dangerous, why did you insist he man the job in the morning?”
“There hadn’t been a break-in then. I still want him on the job, though. That way I can keep an eye on him. He owes you material and labor. Plus, we’ve got the blueprints now. If he skips town, he knows I’ll track him down. I wasn’t here to help you two years ago.” His fingertips feathered over her bangs. “Let me be here for you now. For the baby, too. I’m due some time off. I’ll make sure your salon gets open again with the least amount of delay I can manage. But I can’t do that if I’m worrying about you being alone. I can stick like glue to Quentin during the day, assign a deputy to watch him at night, but I’ll go nuts worrying about you. If you’re at my place, at least I can get a little sleep. Please.”
Donetta rested her forehead against him, then lifted her head and let it drop a couple of times as though she was banging her head against the wall. “Why don’t you just give me a gun and let me shoot the bastard.”
“Because then I might have to put you in jail. And I’ve spent most of today making sure you stayed out of jail.” He raised her face and kissed her, his lips tender, unhurried. “Please.”
She swallowed hard, acknowledged her surrender. “If you do that again, you’re going to scare me off. I’m not ready for…for more.” Even though they’d done much, much more than kiss.
“Okay. Whatever you say. You call the shots. As long as it’s from my place.”
She laughed. “That was a boomerang compromise. I get to call the shots as long as it’s according to your wishes.”
He grinned. “What can I say? It’s ingrained behavior.”
“Well, it’s going to butt heads with my ingrained behavior.”
“Might be fun,” he said, giving her a suggestive wink. “Need help packing?”
Her shoulders settled and she relaxed—marginally. “I think I can manage. And I wouldn’t be so quick to gloat if I was you, Carmichael. Pandora and I are not ideal roommates.”
DONETTA KEPT HER EYES on the taillights of Storm’s truck as he turned down a private road that wound around for a good eighth of a mile before ending at the large white farmhouse he called home.
Her insides were jittery and she could feel the nausea taking hold again as she parked her SUV next to Storm’s pickup. Gosh, what in the world had she agreed to?
Only the dome light glowed in the pitch-black night as Donetta coaxed Pandora off the floorboard of the truck, where the Persian had wedged herself between a shoe tree and makeup case. The cat wasn’t the only one reluctant to make a temporary move to Storm Carmichael’s house.
She got the cat in her arms and stood beside the truck, breathing in the night air. The cicadas and crickets droned in harmony with the deeper voices of the frogs. The smell of the lake drifted on the breeze, as water lapped the banks at the edges of Storm’s ten-acre property.
She felt awkward, didn’t know how to act, couldn’t help but remember how they’d ended up the last time she’d been here. And now she was carrying his baby. Worse, she didn’t have a clue what kind of compromise would work for her.
“Let’s get you inside before the mosquitoes eat you alive,” Storm said from beside her.
“If you hand me a suitcase, I can manage it along with this spoiled girl.”
He gave Pandora’s ears a quick scratch. “I’ll unload. You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy.”
Donetta fired him a look that was completely lost in the dark of night. “Don’t start bossing me around and treating me like a weakling. It’s bad enough that I let you talk me into coming here.”
He astonished her by hooking his hand around the back of her neck, dragging her head forward and pecking a kiss on her forehead.
“And I appreciate you doing that for me, Slim.”
She couldn’t very well object to the kiss on the forehead. It was something he’d done before as a friend. But darn it, her heart wasn’t supposed to skip around over a friendly gesture.
He grabbed two suitcases and a large trash bag out of the back of his truck. Donetta’s apartment had been so messy, Storm had just started scooping stuff into big trash bags and told her she could sort it out later.
“Get the front door, would you?” he said. “It’s open. We might as well see if the three ladies are going to get along or do some hair pulling.”
“And you fussed at me about leaving doors unlocked?”
“I don’t live smack-dab in the middle of town on Main Street, darlin’.”
She abandoned the argument, because she was met at the door by two of the enthusiastic ladies Storm had mentioned—Sneak, a tiny white-and-brown rat terrier, and Dixie, a retired K-9 shepherd. The third lady, of course, was her Persian-mix cat. As Donetta pushed open the door, Pandora’s ears flattened and she hissed out a warning that seemed to thrill Sneak and Dixie. Sneak barked and scampered in circles, her nails clicki
ng on the hardwood floor. Dixie politely wagged her whole body—head to rump, her tail swinging almost as an afterthought.
“Look, Pandora, a welcoming committee.”
Spitting, her hair standing on end, Pandora struggled right out of Donetta’s arms, shot across the hardwood floors and dove underneath the sofa in the living room.
The cat could have saved the dramatics, because the dogs were interested only in the humans. Sneak bounced straight up as though she had springs attached to her paws. Storm set down the suitcases and caught the excited little dog. She had the sweetest brown face. Soft ears stood at attention as she listened to Storm’s greeting, then they flopped and dangled when she whipped her head around. She licked his chin, sniffing and vibrating with excitement. When Storm attempted to put the dog down, Sneak cuddled right into his neck.
He looked up and grinned. “She’s crazy about me.”
“I can tell.” Seeing this big masculine guy, the sheriff, cuddling a little dog made Donetta’s insides turn to mush. Since Pandora had abandoned her, Donetta buried her fingers in Dixie’s fur. The shepherd had been at the vet’s office—the practice Sunny had taken over—when Donetta had been here last, so this was her first time meeting Dixie. “Aren’t you a sweetheart. She sure doesn’t act like a police dog.”
“That’s exactly why she’s retired,” Storm said, reaching down to give the shepherd a pat. “She didn’t have the heart to be aggressive. She did fine in training, then promptly forgot everything they taught her by the next day.”
“Well, that’s okay,” Donetta said, patting the dog and burying her fingers in Dixie’s fur. “Sometimes we girls need a little more femininity to balance out the rough stuff. Huh, Dixie? Your life was simply unbalanced.”
“Don’t go ruining my dogs, Donetta. You start talking to her, and she’ll expect me to keep it up.”
Donetta looked up. “Why don’t you say that to me again when you don’t have a little dog all snuggled against your neck. Don’t think I didn’t hear that baby talk.”
The words fell between them like hailstones on a tin roof. Baby. And talk—which was exactly what they needed to have. Storm lowered Sneak to the floor and snapped his fingers. Both dogs trotted into the living room and curled up on separate pillows in front of the fireplace.
