Witness Seduction

by Elle Kennedy

  “Good. They’ll be ready by the time you come down.”

  She headed downstairs, trying to forget about how stiff his shoulders had looked. Maybe he simply wasn’t a morning person. Like her brother—Sam could be a total ass before he had his morning coffee.

  When Caleb walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, his hair damp from the shower and his blue eyes alert, she handed him a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

  “Thanks.” He took it gratefully, and sipped the hot liquid.

  Marley moved back to the stove and flipped a pancake, wishing he wasn’t being so distant. It was easy to pick up on the waves of tension rolling off him. Finally she turned to him and asked, “Everything okay?”

  He didn’t speak for a moment, just headed to the kitchen table and lowered his big body onto a chair. A line of indecision creased his forehead, and when he opened his mouth, she got the feeling she wouldn’t like what he said.

  “I’m fine. Just tired,” he said with a shrug.

  “Well, hopefully these will help.” She turned off the burner, then walked over to the table and placed a plate loaded with pancakes in front of him.

  Almost instantly, his expression perked up. She suppressed a grin. Men and their stomachs.

  He inhaled the delicious aroma of blueberries and buttermilk, and groaned. “You neglected to mention you could cook like this.”

  “I only do breakfast,” she clarified as she sat across the table. “For some reason it’s all I can manage. Lunch and dinner? I’m lucky I haven’t burned down the kitchen yet.”

  Caleb chuckled. “Thank God for that.”

  She picked up her knife and fork and cut her pancake in half, then fourths, then eighths. She noticed Caleb watching her in amusement as she finally brought a bite-size piece to her lips.

  “You cut it up in advance?” he said with a laugh.

  She finished chewing and shot him an indignant look. “It’s all ready to eat that way. No wasting time after each bite.”

  “You could always cut the next piece while you chew,” he pointed out.

  “Don’t be a smart ass. Eat your breakfast.”

  She was pleased to see him devour the pancakes. For some reason, she liked making him happy. She got the feeling Caleb wasn’t the kind of man who’d been served fluffy pancakes very often. There was an edge to him, something raw and vulnerable at times.

  This morning, that edge seemed sharper than ever. He didn’t say much as he drank his coffee. His dark eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked as if some inner dilemma was tearing him up.

  “You okay?” Marley asked again, as she poured a hefty amount of syrup on her second pancake.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” Setting down his cup, Caleb stood. He grabbed his dish and headed for the sink, keeping his back to her as he rinsed his plate under the faucet.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Marley called. “I’ll just shove everything into the dishwasher later.”

  “I can’t not do the dishes after I eat,” he replied without turning around. “It’s a habit I picked up when I lived in one of my foster homes. My foster mom used to give me a quarter every time I cleaned up after myself.”

  “That was sweet of her,” Marley remarked.

  “Yeah, I guess it was. She was one of the nicer ones.” She heard the smile in his voice. “She gave me this cracked yellow piggy bank to put the quarters into. I kept every quarter. I thought if I saved them all, I would have enough money to run away and be on my own.” His shoulders tensed. “Not that it mattered. One of my foster brothers stole every last penny the night before he was transferred to another home.”

  Her heart melted in her chest, sympathy for that lost little boy tightening her stomach. “Caleb…I’m sorry.”

  She pushed away her plate and got up, walking over to him with purposeful strides. His back stiffened at her approach. She knew he probably felt uncomfortable for revealing what was obviously a painful memory. He’d looked and sounded the same way last night, when he’d told her about his mother’s death.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to depress you,” he remarked.

  She rested her hand on his arm and stroked the curve of his bicep. “It’s okay to talk about things that hurt you,” she said. “I do it all the time.”

  “I’m not great with talking about my feelings, or my past.” His voice sounded thick as he admitted what she already knew.

  Still, it might have been one of the most honest sentences he’d ever spoken to her, and she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him, a slow, deep kiss filled with gratitude and warmth. He responded instantly, slipping his tongue between her parted lips and exploring her mouth with what felt almost like desperation.

  Her heartbeat quickened. She wondered if every kiss she shared with Caleb would be like this. The racing pulse, the damp palms, the melting of her body into his. He placed his hand on the back of her head and drew her closer, teasing her with his mouth, his lips, his tongue. The air in the kitchen felt charged, like the streak of arousal crackling through her blood.

  “Marley?”

  She and Caleb broke apart like a pair of teenagers caught necking in a parked car. She swiveled her head and saw her brother in the doorway.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Sam asked, his gaze shifting from her to Caleb. “Who is he?”

  Marley found her voice. “He is Caleb. My, um, neigh bor.”

  Her brother strode to the middle of the room and eyed Caleb like a guard dog that had just discovered a burglar in the house. Too bad Sam was more like a cocker spaniel than a rottweiler. In his sky-blue surf shorts and white T-shirt, with his blond hair windswept as usual, her brother posed the least menacing picture Marley could conjure up.

  “Do you always make out with your neighbors?” Sam demanded.

  “Just the cute ones,” she replied.

  Caleb snorted, then stuck out his hand. “I take it you’re Marley’s brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Sam looked at Caleb’s outstretched hand warily, but the good manners their parents had instilled in them beat out his obvious desire to play the role of Angry Brother. He shook Caleb’s hand and said, “I’m Sam.” His eyes narrowed. “Why are you kissing my sister?”

  Caleb looked so uncomfortable she took pity on him and said, “Because we’re seeing each other.”

  Sam’s dark-blond eyebrows shot to his forehead. He glanced over at Marley. “Since when?”

  “This week,” she admitted.

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I don’t tell you everything.” Before Sam could continue the cross-examination, she said, “What are you doing here, anyway? Finally going to finish the hall closet?”

  “Tomorrow. Dad’s barbecuing for lunch,” Sam said with a sigh. “He wants you to come.”

  “He sent you all the way over here to invite me to lunch? You could have just called, you know.”

  Sam shrugged. “I had to take measurements of the closet. I’m picking up some supplies before I come over tomorrow.” He shot her a pointed look. “I’m glad I came, otherwise I would have never known about your new boyfriend.”

  Marley’s cheeks heated up. “When’s the barbecue?”

  “In a couple of hours, but Dad wants you to come earlier. He has something to show you.”

  Marley blanched. “Oh, God. Is it what I think it is?”

  For the first time since he’d marched inside, Sam broke out a lopsided grin. “Sure is.”

  Caleb shot her a quizzical look. “Do I get to be in the loop?”

  She laughed. “Nope. Trust me, you have to see it to believe it.” To Sam, she said, “Can you call Dad and tell him to expect a guest?”

  The suspicion on her brother’s face returned. “Sure, I guess.” Shoulders stiff, he turned for the door. “I’ll just take those measurements and meet you over at the house.”

  After Sam left the kitchen, Marley gave Caleb an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I didn’t even think to ask you if you wanted to come
along. I can tell them you can’t make it.”

  He hesitated for a long time, but then to her surprise, asked, “Would you like me to go?”

  She pondered the question. Would she? It might be awkward for him. Since Patrick’s arrest and escape, the men in Marley’s life had become super-protective. Sam, despite the fact that he was younger, now acted as if his only goal in life was to monitor and ensure her well-being, and their father wasn’t much better. Each time she saw him, her dad quizzed her about every aspect of her life.

  She wasn’t sure how he would react when he met Caleb. Neither he nor Sam had liked Patrick, which only made her feel like a bigger fool. What had they seen that she hadn’t?

  But Caleb was different. He wasn’t as smooth and polished as Patrick. Definitely not as talkative, either. And who knew, maybe her family would see something in him that she wasn’t picking up on. She still didn’t fully trust her instincts. It might not be a bad thing to gauge her family’s reaction to Caleb.

  “I’d like it if you came,” she finally said.

  He nodded. “All right then.”

  She leaned up and planted a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you.”

  THIRTY MINUTES AFTER they arrived at Marley’s childhood home, Caleb was regretting his decision to join her. He should have stayed back at the Strathorn house. But he hadn’t wanted to leave her side, especially with the chance that Grier was keeping tabs on her. Away from the safety of her home, Marley made an easy target, and Caleb refused to let her out of his sight.

  But he knew he was totally out of his element here. He was a trained government agent. He’d arrested, interrogated and physically struggled with the slime of the world. Yet he was intimidated by a twenty-four-year-old guy in surf shorts and a salt-and-pepper-haired father in the process of showing off a castle he’d built.

  Out of Popsicle sticks.

  “It’s…interesting,” Caleb remarked as he stared, stupefied, at the structure.

  The castle was about two feet wide and three feet tall, made up of hundreds—no, had to be in the thousands—of little wooden sticks. Some were intact, creating walls and turrets. Others had been cut to accommodate little windows and doors. Oh, and a drawbridge. Who could overlook the drawbridge?

  Next to him, Marley seemed to be fighting a grin. “Dad’s very passionate about his hobby.”

  Sam Sr. lovingly picked up his creation from the crate it had been sitting on and set it on one of the long work tables in the garage. His brown eyes, the same shade as his daughter’s, were animated. “My best one yet, don’t you think, honey?”

  “Definitely,” she agreed.

  Marley’s dad linked his arm through hers and led her out of the garage. Caleb trailed after them as they stepped onto the driveway. He kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, determined to stay on guard during this visit.

  His gaze focused on the intertwined arms of Marley and her father, and he was unable to stop the envy that rolled around in his chest. He could tell just by looking at them that they were close. And the way Sam Sr.’s eyes filled with warmth each time he looked at his daughter was almost painful to watch. Caleb had never had anything even close to that growing up. He’d known families like this existed, but he hadn’t seen it up close before.

  They walked around the side of the sprawling, Spanish-style bungalow and stepped into the spacious backyard. The grass was perfectly mowed, colorful flowers popped up around the perimeter, and the array of birdhouses and feeders hanging from the trees made Caleb smile. Evidently one of her father’s hobbies had rubbed off on Marley.

  Sam was manning the barbecue, flipping burgers with a spatula. He glanced up at their approach and grinned at his sister. “It’s your turn to set the table, kiddo.”

  Marley let go of her dad’s arm and took a step toward the patio door. “I’ll help you,” Caleb offered.

  “No, sit down, relax,” she called over her shoulder.

  As Marley darted into the house, Caleb awkwardly crossed the stone patio and sank into one of the chairs by the large table. Marley’s dad joined him. The older man settled into his chair, then fixed a frown in Caleb’s direction. “So. Marley mentioned you’re a writer?”

  “Yes, sir.” He swallowed, wondering why the lie that had come so easily a week ago now stuck in his throat.

  “My wife was a writer,” the older man revealed.

  “Really? What did she write?”

  “Articles, mainly. She freelanced for some of the top home and garden magazines in the country.” Marley’s father swept his arm in the direction of the garden. “This garden was her showpiece.”

  “There was even a feature about it in Good Housekeeping,” Marley chimed in, coming outside in time to hear her father’s remark. She set four plates on the table, along with drinking glasses, utensils and a tray of condiments, then flopped down in the chair next to Caleb’s.

  “The garden is really pretty,” Caleb remarked. “Who maintains it?”

  “I do,” Sam Sr. answered with a proud smile. “Before Jessie passed, I promised her I would do right by her babies.” He winked. “The kids and the flowers.”

  “Well, you’re doing a good job,” Caleb said, and meant it.

  “Food’s ready,” Sam boomed from across the patio. A moment later, he strode across the pink and gray stones and dropped a platter of burgers on the table.

  Despite the fact that he’d eaten breakfast only two hours earlier, Caleb’s mouth watered at the aroma of ground beef and melted cheese. Marley’s brother joined them at the table, and the four of them didn’t say much as they fixed their burgers and settled back to eat.

  Caleb’s eyes met Marley’s. He found himself fighting a grin when he noticed a splotch of ketchup at the corner of her mouth.

  Her brother noticed, too, and guffawed. “We eat food here, not wear it.”

  Shooting her brother a dirty look, Marley reached for a napkin and wiped demurely at her mouth. “Can it, Sammy.”

  “Would you like me to get you a bib?” he returned with a smirk.

  Caleb choked down a laugh. At the same time, he wanted to hightail it out of here. This was too damn surreal. The bickering siblings. The father looking on in gentle amusement. The homemade burger patties and bright-pink petunias and napkins with little dancing goats on them.

  This wasn’t his life. This wasn’t anyone’s life, was it? Lord, it was bad enough that he’d slept with Marley under false pretenses, but hanging out with her family? A wave of discomfort crested in his stomach, especially when Marley offered a snarky comment to her brother, and Sam Sr. grinned at Caleb. Crap. Marley’s dad was warming up to him. Heck, so was her brother. After an initial bout of curt sentences and suspicious looks, the two men were now beginning to drop their guard.

  As lunch progressed, Sam Sr. spoke to Caleb about the east coast, where he’d apparently lived for a few years following college. And the younger Sam spoke at length about their construction business. From the sound of it, the business wasn’t booming, but it paid the mortgage, and both Kincaid men obviously enjoyed the work.

  They perked up when Caleb mentioned he’d worked construction in the past, and he found himself enjoying talking to them about it. His fake writing career was a topic he avoided, but since construction was something he’d actually done before the DEA, he felt comfortable discussing it, and Marley’s family seemed to warm up to him even more.

  By the time the food was gone and the table was cleared, Caleb’s chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. These people were…nice. They cared about each other. They respected each other. It was so unlike most of the families he’d been around growing up. The abusive foster fathers, the alcoholic mothers, the dilapidated houses, soiled sheets and empty refrigerators.

  “You okay?” Marley murmured, flashing a tentative smile in his direction.

  Next to her, Sam Sr. and his son were still talking about the renovation job they were currently working on.

  Caleb lowered his vo
ice. “I’m fine. I just spaced out for a second.” Fortunately, his cell began to vibrate in his pocket before she could press him. “Excuse me for a second,” he said, barely able to hide his relief as he pulled out the phone.

  He left the table and walked a few feet away, standing near the barbecue as he checked his phone. Nobody was calling, but a series of text messages were coming through, all from AJ.

  Tech guys at SDPD tracked the email to an IP addy downtown. Beachside Internet Café. Grier used free email account, registered with fake name.

  The next message beeped in.

  Staff couldn’t ID Grier from pic. Barista remembers guy in baseball cap, sunglasses, looked shady, but she didn’t see his face.

  A final text popped up.

  Give me a couple of hours before you bring her home. Wiring got screwed up. Two monitors are down. Gotta fix them.

  He put away the cell, experiencing only a fleeting spark of disappointment. He’d known Grier’s message would be a dead end. The man was too smart to send an email from his personal account, or to register for a new one under his real name.

  Caleb glanced at Marley. She was amused by something her brother had said, her blond hair bouncing over her slender shoulders as her body vibrated with laughter. She looked unbelievably beautiful in her old denim shorts and thin red tank top. Her face was shining, her plump lips curved with delight as another burst of laughter rolled out of her chest.

  He suddenly pictured how she’d look when she found out the truth about who he was. The shine in her eyes would fade to a dull matte. Those lips would tighten with fury. Her joy would fizzle like a candle in the rain.

  Caleb bent his head and pretended to text something on his phone, his blood pressure rising. He’d screwed up, given in to temptation and now he had to live with the knowledge that he’d deceived a woman he was really starting to care about.

  Marley would never forgive him for lying to her.

  He was also pretty certain that he’d never be able to forgive himself.