“I’ve got you,” he said, pulling her close to his body. She gripped his arms beneath her hands and found her footing again.
She looked up—and wasn’t that nice to find a man taller than her when she was in heels—to say thank you, but caught the slight crinkling around his eyes. Still no smile, but he was definitely finding pleasure in her discombobulation. Letting go of his arms, she stepped back, carefully. “I’m not irritable.”
He didn’t say anything, but continued on his trek to the coffee destination. Which irritated her as she kept up with him stride for stride. And being irritated didn’t mean you were irritable.
At the corner, he slowed then stopped.
Looking around, she didn’t see a coffee vendor or store. Didn’t smell anything resembling coffee. “Why are we stopping?”
He nodded to his right.
Then she heard it. Soft Christmas carols playing. She looked around him and her irritation melted. They were standing in front of a church. On the snow-covered lawn stood an outdoor manger the size of a small shed. Inside, were teenagers dressed as Mary, Joseph, the wise men, shepherds and an angel. A cow, donkey and sheep were standing on either side. A living nativity.
“Aren’t they cold?” she asked as a shiver ran over her.
“I daresay they have thermal long johns under their costumes, and Pastor Miller probably has an electric heater in there, too.” Grabbing her elbow, he started walking again. “But the coffee’s down here.”
Then she saw the neon sign for the Peaches ‘N Cream Café. “I knew where this was. You could’ve just told me.”
“Yes, but would you have stopped to see the nativity? To hear the music?” he asked as he reached for the café’s glass door.
“Probably not,” she admitted, walking past him. The warmth hit her like jumping into a hot tub. “God, this feels heavenly.” As she followed Wes to an empty booth the smells hit her next. Coffee—thank God. French fries and grilled meat, but an underlying scent of mint and spices.
“Hey Wes,” a red-haired waitress said, stopping by the table and sliding glasses of water in front of them. “Here for lunch?”
Of course Chloe’s stomach picked that moment to growl.
“Guess so, Glenna. Can we get a carafe of coffee first?” Wes said.
“Sure thing. The lunch special is beef stew.” The waitress laid two plastic-covered menus in front of them, then headed back to the kitchen.
Chloe wiggled out of her coat, letting it sit around her shoulders. They didn’t talk as they studied the menu. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. In fact, the warmth of the café, the enticing smells, the jukebox playing carols and Wes’ quiet company had her relaxing into the vinyl-covered seat. Sure she was getting a burger and fries, she had to ask. “Is the blue plate special any good?”
“Haven’t found anything not good here,” Wes said, looking out the window at the cars passing by. “My favorite is the stuffed peppers on Thursdays. Burgers are good, not too greasy, and Pete double fries the French fries.”
At that moment, Glenna returned, setting out two mugs, a small ceramic creamer and a carafe of coffee. She poured them both nearly full steaming cups. “Sweeteners are next to the ketchup,” she said, nodding to the far edge of the table. “Know what you want to eat?”
Wes nodded towards Chloe, allowing her to order first. She hid her grin. If he thought she was one of those thin women who ate nothing but salads, he was so mistaken.
“I’d like a cheeseburger, bacon on it if possible, and fries, please.” Smiling, she handed the menu back to the waitress, then looked up at Wes. “What?”
“Not a thing. Like a woman with an appetite.” He handed over his menu, too. “I’ll take the special, Glenna. Extra biscuits, please.”
“Sure thing.”
Chloe reached for the cream and sugar, doctoring up her coffee, then took a sip. “Nirvana.”
“Best coffee, straight up, although Lorna is planning to add an espresso machine soon.”
“Why?”
“With all the new people moving into the area, she wants to stay ahead of the franchise places.”
Chloe looked around the diner that looked like it came straight out of a fifties’ movie set. “She shouldn’t change a thing. The charm of this place will draw in foot traffic. If the food tastes half as good as it smells, she won’t have to worry about any competition.”
“Ain’t worried about the competition,” a middle-aged woman with hair so yellow she looked like a daffodil in the wrong season stepped up to the table. “Just want to charge people who want fancy-named coffees more than the regular folks who know a good cup of java when they get it. You must be Chloe, Bobby’s sister.”
Chloe grinned at the lady. “And you must be Lorna Doone, spelled just like the cookie.”
“I see Bobby’s been telling you about me,” Lorna said, leaning one hip up against Wes’ side of the booth, “coz I’m sure old tight-lips here hasn’t said much.”
“Bobby said you were catering the reception.”
“Coordinating it, mostly. Pete’s had brisket on the smoker for two days. We’re supplying the meat, rolls and sauces, but the Baptist church ladies are bringing the sides. Lord knows what will show up,” she said with a grin. “Enjoy your lunch.”
Then she wandered off to the next booth of customers.
“A potluck wedding reception? What in the world is Bobby thinking?”
“That the town loves her and Gage? That she understood that folks around here wanted to celebrate your sister and Gage’s wedding as a form of healing from the near-disaster that hit the town not once, but twice this year?”
Heat filled Chloe’s face at his quiet rebuke. Thankfully, their food arrived before she could shove her foot any farther into her big mouth. She tucked into the burger and fries like she hadn’t eaten in days. When she was half finished, she glanced up to find the deputy watching her.
She swallowed her food, then wiped at the corner of her mouth with the paper napkin. “What?”
“I’ve never seen a woman as thin as you put away food that fast. Certainly not a burger.”
She grinned. “You were expecting me to order a salad and pick at it, weren’t you?”
“Thought so,” he said, before eating a heaping bite of the stew he’d poured over his plate of biscuits.
“Bobby always complained about my eating habits. Three full meals a day and junk food in between. Pretty much stay the same weight. She says it’s my height. Dylan says it’s my nervous energy increasing my metabolism. I think it’s probably a combination of the two.” She realized she was babbling and quickly returned to her food once more.
As she dipped the last fry into the ketchup on her plate, she looked up to find Wes studying her once more. The man had the ability to make her feel both desirable and like a bug under a microscope at the same time. She suspected he had more questions to ask, but he’d just have to wait a few minutes. She finished the coffee in her mug, poured another and doctored it just the way she liked.
Then he pounced.
“Who are your clients that aren’t, how did you put it? Not so nice?”
“I’m a junior associate with Berger, Dennison and Napier. Mr. Berger and Ms. Dennison are high-profile defense attorneys, while my boss Mr. Napier handles financial cases. Sometimes we have to deal with the clients involved in,” she searched for a polite way of calling someone a criminal, “the more nefarious elements.”
“Criminals.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes. Criminals. But we also do pro-bono work. In fact the reason I sent Bobby here last spring was an inheritance dispute between a client and the bank.”
“That’s not what’s got you looking over your shoulders, though, is it?”
Jeez. The man had a bullshit meter bigger than Bobby’s.
Before she had to answer, his cellphone went off—thankfully. While she should be grateful, even flattered, that he was pushing the issue, she didn’t wa
nt him to see how paranoid she’d become. There was no real reason for someone to be following her. She hadn’t been privy to any deep, dark secrets. Didn’t have any bad boyfriend breakups.
“She’s with me now over at the Peaches ‘N Cream,” Wes said, staring straight at her and reaching for the check with his free hand. “We’ll walk over to the office. Should be there in about five minutes or so.”
“What’s up?” she asked, pulling her jacket on as he pocketed his phone and paid the bill. She really should argue that she pay her half, but the stone set of his facial muscles told her two things. First, that whatever was said on the phone between him and Gage—and her gut very much said that Gage had been the caller—was serious. And secondly, the man wasn’t in the mood to listen to an argument.
They were out on the street walking at a brisk pace towards the sheriff’s office before he answered her.
“Someone called the bakery pretending to be your sister.”
“Why?” she asked, struggling to keep up with his long-legged purposeful stride, which really wasn’t easy in the four-inch heels of her boots. He reached over, grasped her elbow to steady her as they crossed a patch of icy sidewalk.
“Gage said they tried to mess up the delivery of the cakes, by moving the reception back by two hours.”
“Why would someone want to do that?” She knew she sounded like a naïve fool, but she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to spoil Bobby’s wedding.
“That’s what we have to figure out and fast.”
“I don’t know why you needed me to come here with you. I can just go back to the inn and wait for Bobby.”
“You’ll be safer here with me,” he said stopping her right in front of the sheriff’s office.
“Surely you don’t think this has anything to do with my weird feeling that someone is following me?”
“No. I don’t,” he said, then fixed that determined gaze on her once more. “But right now I need to find out who is attempting to stop your sister’s wedding before it escalates into something else. I can’t do that if I’m distracted by what kind of trouble you may be into.” She opened her mouth to protest.
Wes drew her up close and claimed her mouth in one short, hot kiss, virtually shocking her from saying anything. Then he released her.
“So do me a favor and get your butt inside so I can get to work.”
Chloe knew she should argue, but the hot zing that shot up her spine at the touch of his mouth to hers had virtually zapped her brain. All she could do was obey.
CHAPTER SIX
The kiss had been a mistake.
One hell of a mistake. The last thing he needed to do was get involved with someone, especially his boss’ sister-in-law. Certainly not a high-maintenance lawyer like Chloe Roberts. Definitely not someone who might have a stalker.
But the moment she’d opened her mouth to argue with him, he’d reacted out of instinct to stop her before she could get started. And it worked. Right now she sat quietly in the chair next to his desk in a state of shock. She wasn’t the only one feeling dazed. Now that he had the taste of her on his lips, he wanted more. He might’ve been a fool to kiss her, but he wasn’t fool enough to repeat it.
Forcing himself to concentrate, he unlocked the bottom of his desk drawer and pulled out his laptop, at the same time pushing Gage’s number into his phone.
“You ready?” his boss asked without preamble.
“It’ll take a minute. I have to go through a few back channels,” he said as he typed in the first password.
“Let me know when you’re ready. Is Cleetus still in the office? He’s supposed to be playing Santa over at the nursing home.”
“He left just as we came in. Said something about picking up his little elf.”
“I imagine that’s Sylvie,” Gage said.
“Where are you?” he asked, going into the second protocol that would bounce his request over several satellites. For the past three years he’d used this method to access the highly secure databases without leaving a signature, or at least a signature few people could follow.
“Leaving the bakery and on our way to the office. Here’s the number of the bakery’s phone,” Gage said, reading off the digits. “It’s the last incoming call, according to Willie Mae.”
He plugged the number into the system, waited for the list of calls to come up, found the last one and sent it into another program to trace the location. “More than likely, if our prankster doesn’t want to be found, it’s going to be a burner phone they’ve already tossed, or they at least pulled the battery, so the GPS is no longer working.”
“Can we find out where it was when it made the call?”
“That I can do within a few miles. Nothing pinpoint if it’s still off.”
Chloe leaned in on the desk and pointed at the phone. “Bobby?”
Apparently the superpower of his kiss had worn off. “Chloe wants to know how her sister’s doing.”
“A little shaken and a whole lot pissed off,” Gage said, his voice resonating with the same anger. “We’re pulling up outside.”
The call ended and a few moments later the pair strode in hand-in-hand.
“Got anything?” Gage asked, releasing his hold on his fiancée and jerking off his coat.
“Not yet. It has to reroute the information to me over almost every continent.” Wes focused on watching the program for any information.
Chloe jumped from her chair and went to pull her sister into a hug. “You okay?”
Bobby returned the hug with a nod then began removing her winter jacket, too. “Yes. I just wish we knew why someone would do this. If it’s a prank, it’s not very funny.”
“Sweetheart, this isn’t a joke. Someone is intentionally targeting the wedding and thereby us,” Gage said, sinking into his desk and pulling out his cellphone. He pushed a few buttons. “Littleton, it’s Gage. Yeah, man. Been a while. No. Not back in Columbus. Yeah, I’m still out in farm country. You should try it, might make you less cynical.”
There were a few minutes of good-natured ribbing between the two then Gage got serious. “You know my old cases? Yeah. Any rumblings that some of those guys got out early? Maybe looking for a little payback?”
Another pause, and the deep voice on the other end rumbled through the phone.
“No one. Not even Ramirez?” Gage’s eyes met Bobby’s and she sat on the edge of his desk, taking his hand in hers.
Wes knew what Gage was thinking. Ramirez was the one responsible for the shooting that nearly killed Gage when his ex-wife blew his cover. Shooting a cop should’ve gotten the guy life in prison without a chance of parole, but the rest of his gang? They might have some revenge motives of their own.
“Falling apart, huh? Nothing about me? Good.” Gage gave Bobby a nod and her shoulders slumped. “No, thanks for that information. Keep in touch. Yeah, you ought to try out the fishing up here next summer. Got a camping site just out of town.”
Gage finally hung up. “As you heard, there’s no chatter on the streets about me or anyone looking for revenge at the moment.”
“Who was that?” Bobby asked.
“Jeff Littleton. He was my handler when I was undercover. He still works the narcotics division.”
“Was he there when you were shot?” she asked, anger in her voice.
Gage pulled her hand up and kissed her fingers. “Was he in on the raid that blew my cover? No, that was straight through the DEA and my ex. Littleton got there as fast as he could. I probably would’ve died if he hadn’t been suspicious of Moira and showed up for the raid with some of his own men. He’s the one who actually caught Ramirez and then stopped my bleeding as best he could until the ambulances arrived.”
“This Ramirez is a man?” Chloe asked, from the spot where she was once more watching the street outside.
Gage and Bobby exchanged curious looks before he answered. “Yes. Why?”
Slowly she turned and fixed her gaze on her sister. “Because this doesn’t fee
l like some kind of revenge move a male would take on, especially against another man.”
“What do you mean?” Wes asked, leaning back in his chair to watch the lovely lawyer’s brain work.
Chloe strode over to stand between his desk and the bridal couple, just like she was addressing a jury. “Think about it. Who does the wedding usually center around?”
“The bride and groom,” Wes said, being vague on purpose.
She gave him a duh look. “Well, yes, but mostly you guys have a big party the night before, show up, say some vows, then party through to the honeymoon.”
“Sounds good to me,” Gage said with a grin. Bobby laughed.
It was nice to see some of the tension leave the pair’s faces. People should be happy going into their wedding.
And didn’t he sound like a sappy poet?
“My point is that the bride is the center of the attention and usually makes most of the plans,” Chloe continued with a whisper of a smile on her face.
She should smile more.
Dammit. It wasn’t his business what the woman did or when she smiled. What the hell had gotten into him? That kiss.
He shook off the memory of that and concentrated on what she was trying to say. “So you think whoever is doing this is a woman?”
“Yes,” she said. “Someone who either has something against Bobby or has a thing for Gage, or both. And whoever it is wants to ruin your wedding.”
* * * * *
Bobby sat stunned for a moment, then a small flame lit up. “Moira.”
“It can’t be her,” Gage said.
That little flame shot up into anger. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight at him. “Why not? She’s your ex-wife. She doesn’t like me after I put her in her place last spring. Then she lost her job because of her actions. Oh, and don’t forget she tried to get you killed when you were undercover.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not arguing with you about that. I know better than anyone what devious things she’s capable of doing.” Gage laid one hand on her thigh. The man always seemed to want to touch her, even when she was angry with him. “I’m saying it isn’t her for other reasons. First, when she lost her position in the DA’s office, she moved out of the state. She’s been in New York, living near her sister since last June. Secondly, she has no motive to hurt you or to stop the wedding, because she has nothing to gain from it. Everything Moira’s ever done has been to boost her career and gain her notoriety. And lastly, if Moira were in Westen, we’d all know it.”
Close To Christmas, A Westen Series Novella Page 6
