by Robena Grant
She smiled back, and suddenly everything seemed brighter, and being together made more sense. She liked him, liked his humor, and she trusted him. “Sure, why not?”
Barely had the words passed her lips when his warm mouth met hers with an eagerness he didn’t hide. Gone was the tentative exploration of earlier. This time it seemed his mouth and tongue and hands were everywhere, and just as she got used to them invading one part of her body, they switched up and found a new, even more sensitive spot. And what seemed hours later, her head spinning, her body screaming with repressed desire, she rested her head against his chest and caught her breath.
“There are other things we can do,” he said. “Other ways to make love.”
Her pulses bounded at the thought. She was wet and ready, and her body felt so hot she thought it might explode. It seemed every cell in her body itched for release. Memories of being fourteen years old again, and in the back of some guy’s beat up old car, swamped her.
She couldn’t do it. Not yet. She had to know Jack better, had to have some sense of how this might end. While she understood her control issues, deep fears of commitment, and of letting go and enjoying herself, she couldn’t throw caution to the wind. And she knew sex wasn’t about commitment. You could have sex with someone and never see them again. Plenty of women did that. But not her. She’d come too far in life to be lax about sexual encounters.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “It’s already daylight. I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. You’re welcome to stay and sleep a bit longer.”
He sat up and stared around the room. “No. I’ll dress and head on back to the hotel. I’ll wait until you’re dressed.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“You’re up early, aren’t you?” He asked and frowned. “I mean, it’s Sunday.”
“I’m heading up to the cove to do the sunrise hike.”
His face registered surprise. “Seriously?”
She nodded, and climbed off the bed and tried not to look at the tuft of dark hair visible in the V-neck of his scrub top. “I’m working on increasing my lung capacity. It might help with whatever I have going on in here.” She tapped her chest.
“I could fix that,” he said and winked.
“I’ll take you up on that offer, if the exercise doesn’t work.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“No. Go do your guy stuff. I like being alone on a hike. It’s time to think, time to plan out my week.”
“Sure. I understand…no problem. I’ll call Dave and make sure he has someone patrolling the mall today.”
Debbie nodded. She felt sure she’d heard disappointment in his voice. But was it because he wasn’t going hiking or because she was leaving? Her eyes roamed over him. She’d loved the feel of that chest hair, sinking her fingers through those crisp curls. Who’d have thought it, chest hair being a turn on?
She walked down the hall to the shower. Deep down she knew she’d turned her back on what might be the best sexual experience of her rather narrow adult life. But she had to do so. With all of the happenings of this past week, it was evident even to her untrained detective mind, there had to be a connection to her, or her spa, and the recent murder.
But what could it be? She didn’t have any answers yet, but a good hike and some deep concentration might jog her memory. Somewhere in the last week or so, something unusual, even if it was only a tiny comment, or one thing that appeared out of place, had happened. But she hadn’t recognized it as a clue at the time.
Whatever it was she would move back in time, at least ten days, and carefully scan each days actions, and examine each conversation with new or unusual clients who had graced her spa. She would be relentless. She wouldn’t let Jack or her emotions confuse her. She couldn’t put her daughter, or herself, at any more risk. And of that she was certain.
Chapter Ten
Jack was beyond frustrated, emotionally, sexually and physically. He went back to the hotel, crawled into bed, and fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke with a start, a little after midday, he had a hard time figuring out where he was. He hadn’t drawn the drapes open and it was pitch black in the room. Then he remembered he was in a hotel, in the desert. But what had disturbed his sleep?
Someone knocked at the door. He turned on a bedside lamp, and then shut his eyes for a moment against the brightness. He grabbed his gun, hurried over, and peered through the peephole. “Yeah,” he yelled, at the cartoonish shape standing in the hallway.
“Housekeeping,” a soft Latino-sounding voice said.
“Come back later.” He could make out a distorted female form and a laundry cart behind her, most likely safe, but he wasn’t into trusting anyone these days. He glanced at his watch, which was still on his wrist. “After two o’clock. Okay?”
“Okay,” the woman said.
He shuffled back and sat on the side of the bed, and took off his watch, noticing the imprint it had made on his arm. He massaged his wrist, and then rubbed at the side of his face, feeling the sharpness of his whiskers. He felt like he had a hangover. His mouth felt like it too. He was ravenous and he had nothing in the room except a coffee pot with maybe one package of decaffeinated coffee left. He desperately needed the real thing.
Memories of the night before took over and he rubbed gently at his chest. That damn airbag had given his ribs a bruising, and sleeping on the dolphin bed with one ear open hadn’t made for the most comfortable of nights. Yet, he wouldn’t trade that night of sleeping next to Debbie for anything, even if she’d left an ache inside of him that was hard to explain. Her story had touched him. He’d wanted her. Had wanted to love and comfort her. It hadn’t been entirely a physical need, and that had smacked him upside the head. He hadn’t wanted to comfort a woman since his mother had died.
He reached for his cell phone and called hers. “You okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. The hike did wonders for me. It’s truly majestic up there. You can see forever.”
“Good. Good.” He hated to cut her off, but her enthusiasm and energy was hard to take with his fuzzy, tired brain. He needed a shower.
“Did you just wake up?” she asked.
He pulled in a deep breath and blew it out, and then ruffled a hand through his hair. There was no need to lie. “Guilty.”
She laughed and that cheered him. “Go shower, and eat. Get some sunlight.”
“Will I see you later?”
“Want to meet at Cliffs, at six?”
“Yeah,” he said, instantly happy and alert. And then she clicked off. He sat, holding the phone lightly in one hand, his other hand on the gun that lay on top of the comforter. How did she do that? How did she make him feel so alive, and with only a laugh and a comment? He gave his head a good shake. Then he grinned. It felt good to have someone thinking and planning for him. It had been a long time since that had happened.
He took the gun and the cell phone with him, opened the drapes, and blinked hard. Winter, yet it was another sunny day in the desert. Not half bad. His gaze settled on the ring of the Santa Rosa Mountains, the bright blue sky, the row of palm trees, their fronds gently swaying. It was time to hit the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, he sat fully dressed in his hotel room and wondered what he’d do for the next four hours. Breakfast, or lunch first, he supposed. He dialed Dave’s number and tried to ignore the growl of his empty stomach.
“Want to meet somewhere safe? Talk this thing out?”
“Yeah,” Dave said. “Not the station though. With the townsfolk seeing you coming and going, the next thing you know the locals will be giving you my job.”
Jack laughed. “Where do you suggest?”
“Cliffs is good. We’ll have the place to ourselves. Rachel doesn’t open until about four on a Sunday, but I just left her there. She’s doing the books. That place is like a second office for me, so she won’t mind. Park in the self-parking.”
“I’ll be there in an hour,” Jack said. “Boss
wants me to get the car checked out tomorrow. The hotel has a car rental service, so I’ll get a new one before coming over.” He clicked off. Then he grabbed his gun, slid it into his shoulder holster, and slipped on his jacket. His first stop would be the restaurant downstairs. He had to eat, and right now.
An hour later, seated in a dark corner of Cliffs bar, Jack leaned back in the comfortable leather booth.
“I think you definitely need a tighter alias,” Dave Stanton said, and took a long drink of his diet soda. “You need to be more than a cowboy.”
“I am. I’m a mystery novelist.”
Stanton watched him for a few moments.
“Are you apologizing for seating me in the front row of the town meeting and blowing my cover, or, for spinning a yarn to the women at Cliffs bar?” He raised his coffee mug. He’d decided against his usual beer, and Rachel had made a fresh pot of coffee for him. He took a few sips, and sighed, having only had time for one cup, while he wolfed down the eggs and toast at the hotel. Stanton didn’t take the bait.
“I don’t need another alias,” Jack said finally. “Anyway, I’ve got a different car.”
“Huh,” Dave murmured, nodding his head. He took another drink of soda.
The booth gave a full view of the front parking lot, and beyond that the traffic on Highway 111. The parking lot was empty, except for his vehicle. The only other cars that had driven in were Janelle’s, and one of the bartender’s, another guy rode in on a bicycle, and then a white delivery van driven by a middle-aged white guy in a baseball cap came into the lot. They’d all driven around to the employee parking area and were out of sight. Jack picked up his cowboy hat off the table, and spun it several times.
“Besides, what’s wrong with a visiting cowboy from Montana?” He raised a hand and waved to Janelle, and the big bartender, as they walked in behind the bar.
“A cowboy who writes love stories,” Dave said, and grinned.
“Mystery,” Jack said, and put the hat down. “It was all I could think of to get Trigger off the scent. He’d seen me taking notes.”
“Okay. So how about we deepen that. You can still be the mystery writing cowboy from Montana. But let’s have you meet with a local real estate agent and begin a property search.”
Jack faked a grimace and put a worried look on his face. He wouldn’t tell Stanton he’d already talked that subject over with Trigger. The way news flew in small towns, it would be old news by now. He’d let the cop have his moment. He’d recognized and appreciated Dave’s frustration at having not one but two federal agents working his territory. For some reason Stanton wanted desperately to solve this case.
It could be a huge waste of time, this exploring property to purchase, but on the other hand, he might learn more about the community. Real estate agents had loads of information.
Janelle hurried across the room. “I don’t have much time to talk, but last night there was a strange older guy in here and he was asking a lot of questions.” She shrugged and nibbled at a fingernail.
Jack leaned forward. “About?”
“Well, that’s the weird thing. It was kind of about Mom’s business. He made like he was looking for a massage but—”
“Did you tell him Debbie is your mother?” Jack interrupted.
Janelle shook her head.
“Can you be specific? What kind of questions?” Stanton asked, and pulled out a notepad from the inner pocket of his jacket. He flicked the cap off a pen.
“He seemed to focus on what her business hours were. If she’s open at all on Sunday. If she ever takes private off hour clients.” Janelle grimaced. “I’m not sure why, but I didn’t like him. And his questions seemed pushy. Intrusive. You know.”
“Ever see him in here before?”
“Once.”
“What did he look like?” Stanton continued to take notes.
“Sixty something. Long white hair.”
Jack sat up straight. “What time was this?”
“About an hour after you left for dinner.”
“Did he have a woman with him?”
Janelle shook her head. “Nope. But I’m pretty sure he was parked in a white van down the other end of the parking lot a couple of nights ago. Um. I need to get back to work. Should I say anything about this to Mom?”
Jack smiled to put her at ease. She was a good kid. “No. Stanton and I’ll follow up and we’ll keep a close eye out for the guy. Thanks though. This is very helpful.”
Janelle went back behind the bar and Jack eyed Stanton thoughtfully. “Could be our same guy.”
Stanton nodded. He scratched at one ear. “Doesn’t bring anyone to mind. At least not right off the bat.”
“I wonder who the hell he is, and what he wants?” Jack took another slug of coffee. “Got a real estate agent in mind?”
“I called someone I know and trust,” Dave said, and glanced at the front door. “Should be here any second.”
“Now? You want me to go house hunting now?” Jack poured another coffee, knowing full well he’d had too much, and glanced at his watch. “I’m meeting Debbie, here, at six.”
“Hold onto your hat,” Dave said, and leaned forward. “It’s not an agent. It’s Zeke and Dena Cabrera. Hey, Janelle, you mind opening the front door? I’m expecting someone.”
Janelle opened the door and went back to setting up.
“The plan, like I told you last night, is they’ll give you another level of security,” Dave said, leaning forward. “Allow you to go deeper undercover. Zeke will be your buddy from college days, and Dena is our local PI and she might be of other help to you. Besides it will stop Debbie and Rachel from asking questions.” He tilted his chin toward the door and grinned. “Ah, here they are.”
Jack saw two people about his age weaving their way around the empty lounge tables. All he could think of was how Debbie was only going to ask more questions. They appeared squeaky clean, and preppie. Not his usual type of friend. He stood and shook hands as Dave made the introductions. Then Dave shifted places to sit beside him, and Dena and Zeke sat together, opposite them.
After more drinks were served and small talk gotten out of the way, Jack leaned forward. He figured they’d observed each other enough for now and doubted this Zeke guy wanted to be involved at all. Dave must be calling in a favor. “I hear you went to USC?”
Zeke nodded. “You know much about it?”
“Yep. I did one year, and then the money ran out. I transferred to Cal State Northridge. SC’s got a great rep, but too expensive for me.”
“I know what you mean. If I hadn’t gotten a free ride from an educational trust my father had set up, I’d never have been able to graduate from there.” Zeke grimaced and looked away.
Hell, it wasn’t Zeke’s fault he was a preppy rich kid…trusts…old money. Jack took another slurp of coffee. The guy seemed okay, maybe a bit too educated for his taste in friends, but he’d do in a pinch. “You’re a lawyer, right?”
“Was.” Zeke shrugged. “Gave it up and returned to my roots.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, and waited. Outside the window he saw an older guy in a baseball cap wander past the parked cars. He seemed to stop and appraise the Mercedes. Not that he could blame him. He kept one eye on the dude and the other on Zeke. At least the old guy didn’t have wild crazy white hair, so probably he was waiting for the bar to open.
“I’m a farmer,” Zeke said, then cracked a smile. He reached for Dena’s hand and squeezed it, and gave her a big goofy grin. “In the space of two years, I became a landowner, a husband, a father.”
That surprised Jack, and he took a closer look at Zeke. He’d judged him, and that hadn’t been fair. Farming, not a bad life he supposed, and he found himself warming up to the guy. So, he’d traded a suit and a law career to turn back to the land. He sure seemed content. He wondered if a lifestyle change would affect him that way. “And you’re a PI, Dena?”
She nodded. “I’ve slowed down some, since the baby arrived. But I
’m not complaining. The business is new and growing and Zeke helps out, but I’m looking to hire a partner.”
Jack nodded. The conversation continued, and soon they were all relaxed and sharing jokes. After about half an hour, Jack figured that he’d like to be able to call Zeke a true friend.
“So, Zeke, we’re good with your back-up of Jack?” Dave asked.
“Sure,” Zeke said. “Anything to get this town cleaned up. Do you think the murder was connected to drugs?”
“Can’t discuss that right now, my friend,” Dave said, and shot a look around the bar. A few people had begun to filter in. “But you’ll be one of the first to know, and if you’ve got Jack’s back, that’s terrific.”
“You mentioned wanting a real estate referral,” Zeke said.
“Yeah. I thought you two being buddies and all, it would be good local gossip if you were to meet out at Three C’s. You know, have Jack coming and going from your place.”
“I think that’s great,” Dena said. “I have a friend, the owner of an agency down here. She’d be perfect. In fact, she’ll get tongues wagging. Let’s set up an appointment for you to see the property behind ours tomorrow.” She winked at Jack. “No harm in being a wealthy cowboy, eh?”
Jack smiled. How wealthy? He’d started to like this character they were creating. But, a farmer, in the desert, no way in hell.
****
Debbie decided against the Sunday ritual of doing her books, and instead of going in to the spa, she went home after hiking and pulled on a bathing suit. Her neighbors were out of town, but she had year round usage of their pool and spa. She walked beneath the row of palm trees that lined their driveway and slipped in the side gate. Moments later she sank into the whirlpool spa. Then she swam laps in the cool water of the pool.
Rubbing her body dry, she felt invigorated, and ready for anything, and a little sorry she hadn’t been thinking clearly earlier in the day when Jack had called. She should have invited him to come over for a swim. Thoughts on how he’d look in bathing trunks flashed through her mind, and she grinned to herself. With a quick shake of her head, and a silent reminder to keep her focus on finding out who had attempted to break into her spa, and why, she went back to her little house and peered into the almost empty refrigerator.
