by Lori Foster
Over egg salad sandwiches, pickles, and chips, Julie asked, “What will you do next?”
“About?”
She laughed. “Me. About this situation. I can’t hide out forever, and I hate it that my uncle is worrying about me.”
“I told you. I’m going to go see Robert.”
“When?”
“Soon.” Probably tomorrow. “Can I trust you to stay put and behave yourself?”
Julie stiffened. “I’ve about had enough of that. You insist I trust you, yet you continue to rank me as an imbecile.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“If I misbehave, it could put us both at risk. Only an imbecile would do that.”
Clint set aside his last bite of sandwich and went to her, hauling her out of her seat. “I trust you. I think you’re a wonderful, very caring woman with enough brains for three people. That’s not what worries me. But the fact is, you have on rose-colored glasses most of the time. You’ve lived a sheltered life and don’t realize how many scumbags inherit the earth, people who’d sell you out for little reason, and sometimes for no reason at all.”
Julie hung in his grasp, her brown eyes far too observant. “Who sold you out, Clint?”
Well, hell. The woman was too observant for her own good. There’d be no avoiding it now. He picked up their plates and carried them to the sink, giving himself a chance to formulate his words. “I suppose you noticed that I’m not living in the best surroundings.”
“What I noticed,” Julie said, sidling up next to him to help with the few dishes, “is that you care about the people around you. Marlin and Emilio and Dwayne and Carmen. And they care about you. It’s not where you live, but how you live that matters.”
Would she always stun him with her outlook on life? “You know, you don’t sound like a pampered society babe.”
She nudged him with her hip. “That’s because I’m not. My dad liked to spoil me, but he also made me aware of how fortunate we were. Several times a year we spent time helping those in need. He considered it part of my education. I think that’s why I wanted to be a teacher. And being a teacher, I’m good at keeping track of my thoughts. So I’ll ask again, who sold you out?”
Clint rinsed the last plate and put it in the drainer. “You want coffee?”
“I want an answer.”
He grinned. Julie Rose was extremely cute in teacher mode. “Would you like coffee with your answer, because it’s not a short story?”
Looking adorable in the big shirt and unkempt hair, Julie shooed him to the table. “All right. You sit and start talking, and I’ll make the coffee.”
Clint pulled out a chair and sat facing her. With no other alternative, he just blurted out the facts. “About three years ago, I narrowly missed doing jail time.”
Julie didn’t so much as flinch. “What happened?”
“I worked as a mercenary of sorts, saving up money so I could build a house and settle down somewhere. It paid well, and…”
She glanced at him, and her voice softened. “You like helping people.”
Rubbing his ear, he admitted, “I do. But it got me in trouble, so for a long time, I gave it up.” Then his voice softened, too. “Till you.”
With the coffeemaker hissing, Julie joined him at the table. “Tell me what happened.”
“It was pretty stupid, really. I was on my way home from a successful job. Feeling good, just driving easy. But as I passed this small community, I saw a woman come running out of her house. She had a bloody nose, a black eye…” His muscles clenched again in memory. “I can take a lot, but I can’t bear to see a woman or a kid hurt.”
Julie stayed silent, so he shifted his shoulders, trying to shake off his tension. “Some asshole came out the door after her. Typical hard guy—dirty jeans, wife-beater shirt—”
“There’s a shirt for men who abuse their wives?”
Nothing helped him relax more than Julie’s candid naiveté. “White ribbed undershirts are sometimes called that.”
“I see.”
“Anyway, I stopped.”
“Of course you did.”
Of course you did. Her faith in his moral code left him humbled. “The woman came running toward me, and the guy, if you can believe it, was still cursing and threatening her. He didn’t seem to mind an audience at all, so I knew he was going to be trouble.”
“And obviously he was.”
Clint shrugged. That incident had turned into more trouble than he ever could have anticipated. “I got out of my car, and the woman ducked behind me, trying to use me for a shield. All I knew was that she was hurt, and he wanted to hurt her more.”
“You couldn’t let that happen.”
“No, I couldn’t.” Clint made a sound of mixed laughter and disgust. “The guy made a grab for her, and I decked him. It was pure reflex on my part. I didn’t even think about it. But the pop to his chin was solid, and he went down fast. That shut him up for a bit, sort of stunned him, like he couldn’t believe I hit him. And he was pissed.”
“What did the woman do?”
“She went silent, too. No more sobbing, no more hysterics. She still had a death grip on my back, but it was so damn silent I could hear myself breathing. Then her husband told me to mind my own business, that it had nothing to do with me.”
“Abuse has to do with everyone.”
“Yeah, that’s what I used to figure, too. Anyway, he pulled a knife and cut me.” Clint’s hand went to the long scar that ran from his ribs to his hipbone.
Julie covered her mouth.
He remembered her tracing that faint line, asking about it, and eventually touching her soft lips to him. “It wasn’t a real deep cut, thankfully, but there was a ton of blood. The guy grinned, acted like he was going to cut me again, and I lost it. I beat the shit out of him.”
Striking the table with her small fist, Julie said, “Good for you.”
He laughed again, amused by her reaction, but not by the memories. “Not so good. The broad ran in and called the police. She said I’d attacked her poor husband for no reason.”
“But that’s absurd.”
“The cops had her story and their own eyes. And the guy was in bad shape.” He shook his head. “So I got handcuffed.” Clint met her gaze.
“He spent damn near a week in the hospital, and it took me nearly that long to make the cops understand that I was defending her.”
“And yourself.”
“He claimed that was self-defense.”
“Didn’t they see her wounds?”
“Yeah, but with her swearing they were from an accident, that her husband was an angel…”
“Oh, Clint.” Julie watched him with eyes full of understanding and sympathy. “She sounds like a very disturbed woman.”
Staring down at the tabletop, Clint nodded. “I suppose.” He rubbed his face. “I lost everything. What money I had was eaten up by lawyer fees and court costs. I might’ve ended up with jail time, too, if it hadn’t been for her family.”
“They backed you up?”
“Against their daughter’s wishes. But her mom told me she couldn’t take it anymore. So she and her husband and their other daughter all told one story after another about the domestic abuse they’d witnessed. Then a neighbor who’d seen the whole thing jumped on board. Before she knew the guy would be arrested, she’d been afraid to say anything. After that, it sort of fell into place. But I wasn’t off the hook.” Clint’s hand curled into a fist. “I did hurt him, and there was no reason for it. I have better control than that. I could have taken him out with one punch, but instead…”
Julie put her small hand over his fist. “You punished him.”
“No one else had.” His eyes closed. “If you could have seen that woman, what he did to her face, the bruises. She was his wife, but he used his fists on her.”
Julie left her seat and crawled into his lap. “The more I know you, the more I like you.”
At first Clint was rigid, lost in
the awful memories of those days when he hadn’t known what would happen, and hadn’t even really known himself. Then her warmth seeped into him and the light scent of her skin wafted around him.
He hugged her tight, pressing his face into her neck and just holding on. Pretty soon, he felt Julie quicken, felt her soothing touches, meant to comfort, turn to exploration, felt her lips graze his fevered skin.
He had to smile again. She had the knack of chasing away any and all negative moods. She nuzzled his jaw, and he heard her accelerated breaths.
“Julie Rose?”
“Hmmm?”
Her voice was a little high, and her hands were now all over his chest. “I’m thirty-eight, baby. I need time to recoup.”
“How much time?”
Clint stood with her in his arms. “Let’s see. By the time I have you screaming in pleasure, I should about be there.”
He started down the hall, and Julie hid her face against him. “I’m shameless.”
“Yeah, but I like it.” And with a laugh he tossed her onto the bed. Following her down, he said, “I like it a lot.”
Julie slipped out of bed early the next morning. She wanted to pamper Clint with breakfast. If any man deserved pampering, he certainly did. She had just picked up his dark T-shirt, but hadn’t yet put it on, when she heard the sheets rustle.
“Hey?”
She turned with a frown. “I was so quiet. How did you hear me?”
With a shadowing of beard on his hard jaw and his silver-tipped dark hair mussed, he looked sleepy and sexy and all male. “Come back here.”
The man reeked of temptation. Julie took a step back to resist his lure. “No. You go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when breakfast is ready.”
His lazy gaze moved over her nude body. “You want to make me breakfast?”
“I’m an adequate cook. Not with fine cuisine or anything, but I can handle breakfast.”
His attention lingered on her breasts, and he spoke absently. “Don’t leave the apartment.”
“I won’t.”
“All right.” His attention finally lifted to her face, and he gave a crooked, very endearing smile. “Since you wore me out, I won’t argue.” He closed his eyes and settled back into his pillow.
Appreciating how at peace he looked when sleepy, Julie watched him a moment more, then crept out of the room. Her ankle felt fine today. Her body tingled, and her heart was full. She grinned in pleasure.
She, Julie Rose, had worn out a hunk like Clint Evans. She was unaccountably proud of herself—and very much in love.
Of course, she couldn’t tell Clint she loved him. They hadn’t known each other long, and he already thought her naïve and sheltered, not to mention his silly assumption that her attraction was based on his rescue. If Mojo or Red had been the first on the scene, she still would have been drawn to Clint. She couldn’t say why, other than she noticed so many admirable layers to him.
He was all man, no two ways about that. His height, bulk, and confident ability really did remind her of Joe and Bryan and Scott, but Clint’s language alone saved him from any serious resemblance to Bruce.
There was a lot more to Clint than his physical capabilities, though. He cared. About everyone. In that way, he reminded her of Shay, Bryan’s wife. And thinking of Shay…
Julie got out a frying pan, the bacon and eggs and butter. Once she had bacon sizzling in the pan, she picked up the phone on the kitchen wall and dialed Shay’s number. She didn’t worry about the early hour because Shay was nonstop energy in a deceptively relaxed manner. She wasn’t in the least surprised that Shay answered on the first ring, and that she was not only up, but getting ready to leave the house.
While Julie cooked, she and Shay chatted. She’d missed her friends, and although they had a lot to catch up on, it wasn’t her kidnapping that concerned Julie right now. Besides, Shay had no idea she’d been taken from her home, so she saw nothing unexpected in Julie’s call. And Clint had said not to mention it, so Julie wouldn’t.
No, she wanted to talk about Clint’s neighbor, Carmen.
Without giving away her location or her relationship to Clint—if what they had could even be called a relationship—Julie explained Carmen’s circumstances.
Shay wasn’t in the least judgmental, and she was a good listener with incredible insight. Satisfied by Shay’s suggestions and her willingness to get involved, Julie was just hanging up when she felt eyes on her back. Turning, she found Clint lounging in the door frame.
He wore only jeans, and those weren’t zipped or snapped. Heartbeat accelerating, Julie visually traced his upper body, from the dark hair on his broad chest to his firm abdomen and along that silky, teasing line of hair that led from his navel down into his open jeans. She sighed.
His feet were bare, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression forbidding.
Just to confuse him, Julie smiled, while giving Shay her goodbyes. “All right, Shay. Thank you, again. I’ll check back with you in about a week.” Julie nodded, laughed at Shay’s enthusiasm, and said, “You, too. Bye now.”
She put the receiver back in the cradle and turned to the stove. “I’ll have everything on the table in just a minute. How do you like your eggs?”
“Cooked.” Clint pushed away from the door, and even though Julie couldn’t hear him, she knew he now stood right behind her. “Who were you talking with, Julie Rose?”
Having never cooked for a man before, Julie wasn’t sure how many eggs Clint would want, but she’d made him three. They were fried perfectly, not a single yolk broken, and she put them on the plate with care. “That was my friend, Shay. She’s married to Bryan, the man who used to be a bounty hunter but now owns a security business.”
Clint’s hands closed on her shoulders, gently kneading. “And why were you talking to her?”
Julie picked up the plates, ducked under Clint’s arm, and headed to the table. “Shay’s a philanthropist of sorts. You see, she’s very wealthy—”
“Another rich lady?” Clint smirked. “The wonders of Visitation grow by the minute.”
“No, not another rich lady. Shay’s nothing like me. She’s…free.”
That made Clint frown.
Trying to find the right way to explain, Julie twisted her hands together. “For her entire adult life, her money has always been her own, to do with as she pleases. And it pleases her to help others. She funds women’s shelters, safe houses, and organizes a lot of charity events. Other than writing out a check or working at the soup kitchen, I’ve…well, I’ve never really tried to help an adult before, just children—my students—so I decided I could use Shay’s advice, and her money, too, since my money is in a trust.”
Clint’s eyes narrowed. “If you think I’d take money—”
“You?” Julie blinked. “Oh, no. Clint, you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d already amassed quite a reputable savings account again.”
Bemusement wiped the annoyance from his face. “Actually, I have. I’m saving it up to make a fresh start. That’s why I live here still, so I can save more money.”
“I assumed it was something of that nature. You’re far too intelligent and resourceful to stay down long. But Carmen is different.”
“Carmen?” As if Julie had just taken the strength from his knees, he pulled out a chair and dropped into it.
She, too, sat and indicated his plate. “Please, eat while it’s hot. I hope you like your bacon crispy.”
He picked up a slice and bit into it. “Mmm. It’s good. Now, what’s this about Carmen?”
Julie was afraid he’d be mad at her, and while that wouldn’t stop her from doing what she considered right, she didn’t want to waste a single moment of her time with him in disagreement. After a deep breath, she tried another smile.
“Carmen is so vulnerable. She’s an educated, gifted woman who knows what she’s lost. That must be an unbearable reality to suffer. But Shay has some idea
s for getting Carmen into a program—Shay knows of a lot of programs, even those for drug abuse—and she has some ideas on how Carmen can make a fresh start. Shay knows everyone. She has scores of connections. If anyone can help Carmen, it’s Shay.”
In two bites, Clint ate one entire egg, all the while watching Julie. “You’re excited about this, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Breakfast is great. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Julie started to relax.
While pondering her ideas, Clint continued to eat. “Carmen might not agree, you know. I’ve tried before to talk her into getting help.”
“I know. But Shay has a way of slipping the help in on people. If it can be done, Shay can do it.”
Clint watched her again. “You’re one hell of a woman, do you know that?”
Heat rushed into Julie’s face. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to compliments. “Thank you, but I haven’t done anything except put Shay on the case.”
“I’m just surprised you don’t want to reform Marlin, Emilio, and Dwayne, too.”
In for a penny…“Wellll…I did have some thoughts about them.”
Clint laughed. He sat back in his chair, smiled at her, shook his head and laughed again. “Eat up, babe. Your breakfast is too good to go to waste.”
Julie finished half her food before sneaking another glance at Clint. He’d all but cleared his plate, even used his toast to gather up any egg yolk he might have missed. She’d never been the domestic type, but it thrilled her that he’d enjoyed her efforts.
He caught her watching him and sat back in his seat. “A sexy woman and a good breakfast.” He saluted her with the orange juice glass. “What a perfect way to start the day.”
“You’re not upset that I called Shay?”
He guzzled down his juice before reaching for the coffee. “You didn’t tell her about the kidnapping.”
“No, of course not.”
“Then why should I care? And by the way, men get mad, women get upset.”
He could be so exasperating. “You do seem hung up about these subtle differences between men and women.”