And, as if he didn’t have enough complications, there was Margo. Why now?
He’d known Lakeview was her hometown, but he figured Riley would have moved his bride to the big city for a life of wealth and glamour. So why was she back here working for a small newspaper? Married to a successful attorney, Margo would shine at the country club, and she’d never have to hold down a paying job.
A far different life than he could have offered.
He slammed his fist against the edge of the sink, immediately regretting it. “Damn.” Hard porcelain couldn’t take the place of a good punching bag for working out his frustrations. A human jaw, on the other hand…
Flexing his bruised hand, he padded barefoot to the window and stared out at the night. If he’d known Margo and Nick Riley had settled in Lakeview, he never would have accepted this assignment.
But it was too late to back out now. His cover was in place and he’d just have to explain that to Margo. And her husband. God, the last person in the world he wanted to face right now was Nick Riley.
The man who’d stolen the only woman Jared had ever loved.
Two weeks before graduation, Nick had arranged for Margo to catch Jared in the arms of another sorority sister. Somehow, the girl had managed to get into his room and his bed without him knowing it. In retrospect, he realized Nick must have paid her to set Jared up for a fall.
Nick hadn’t let a moment pass before he’d moved in on a vulnerable Margo. She’d refused to listen to Jared’s explanations, which angered him enough to allow his pride to get in the way. Big mistake.
“Easy enough to say now.” With a sigh, he shook his head in disgust.
Swallowing the bitter bile frying his throat, he trudged to the lumpy full-sized bed and flopped down on top of the tattered bedspread. He had a job to do—an important one. Margo would keep his secret once he explained why he was here. But Nick…
Jared rolled to his side and stared at the flashing sign, hypnotized by its rhythmic display.
When he’d seen Margo sitting in the audience tonight, his initial reaction had been embarrassment, then joy. He’d never forgotten her gray eyes, her honey-brown hair, her lithe young body, or the passion she’d shown so openly during their college years. No other woman had insinuated herself into his heart since Margo, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he wouldn’t allow it or because no other woman could take her place.
Or both.
And how could he forget Nick? The rich kid whose real estate tycoon father had owned or held the mortgage on everything and everybody in his small town. Except for Carson’s Garage. Jared’s uncle and guardian had been an independent cuss who never borrowed or loaned a dime his entire life. Everything they’d ever owned had been paid for with hard-earned cash.
A cold draft seeped in around the cheap, aluminum-framed window, and he shivered. Taking refuge under the blankets, he continued to stare at the flashing sign. What a sorry excuse for a bed. The floor would probably be more comfortable, but colder, too.
And no amount of physical discomfort could blot out his memories. Not tonight.
If Nick had gone to some posh private college instead of the state university, so many things would be different. By now, Jared would be married to Margo. He knew that without a doubt. They’d probably have a baby, or one on the way.
And he definitely wouldn’t have taken this cruddy job—not a chance. He would have gone home and worked as a deputy until Sheriff Bob was ready to retire, then he would’ve run for the office himself.
But Fred and Nick Riley’s obsession with winning and Jared’s own stupid sense of pride had ruined it all.
Ah, Margo. He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered that night in the woods behind her sorority house, when she’d given herself to him completely. The night they’d both declared their love for each other…
No other woman had ever touched him or drained him so completely—physically or emotionally. Sure, he’d had sex with more than a few women in his life, but he’d only made love with one. Margo. Sweet Margo.
Forget it, chump. She was a married woman, and the last person she needed messing up her life was the likes of Jared Carson. He’d had his chance. It was over.
He punched his pillow and sat up in bed. Between worrying about this case and strolling down memory lane, he’d be up all night. Since he couldn’t sleep, maybe he’d get some answers instead.
Grumbling, he reached for the phone and dialed his contact’s number. Jared’s body tensed, thoughts of Margo pushed aside by duty.
“This better be important,” a sleep-roughened voice said after one ring.
“What the hell’s going on? Is there a leak?”
“Beats the hell outta me.” Charlie sighed into the phone.
“And my cover?” Silence. That did nothing to bolster Jared’s confidence. “Charlie, is my cover blown?”
“Nah, I’m sure it’s fine.”
Jared stood and paced. “We’ll continue as planned for now, but you let me know in advance if anything else crops up. Got it? I don’t like surprises.”
“Sure. Get some shut-eye.”
Jared disconnected the call and dropped the receiver into its cradle. No, he didn’t like surprises one iota.
Like seeing Margo again.
4
Margo winced as her alarm clock blasted through her brain. No, not her alarm clock—the phone. What had she done to deserve a wake-up call this morning?
Steph is a dead woman.
Without opening her eyes, she fumbled for the receiver. Anything to keep it from ringing again. Some party animal. Three—four?—tropical drinks had given her a hangover.
“Meet me for breakfast,” a woman—definitely not Steph—said before Margo uttered a syllable.
“What? Who is this?” She shoved a pillow behind her head and opened one eye. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth with something resembling wallpaper paste. “Breakfast?” Her stomach threatened immediate mutiny.
“Yeah, how about the Little Diner?”
She and Nick had eaten dozens of breakfasts in that downtown restaurant during their marriage. “Who is this?”
“Raquel. Raquel Eastwood.”
No longer groggy, Margo opened the other eye and scooted herself into a partial sitting position. “Why?” Suspicion slithered through her. Was there a complication from last night’s trip to the police station? “Am I in some kind of trouble?”
A nervous laugh sounded through the phone. “No, I just thought we’d chat over breakfast. How about it?”
Margo rubbed her forehead and nodded, then remembered that wasn’t terribly effective over the phone. “Sure, I suppose.” She swallowed and grimaced. “It’ll take me at least an hour to get my act together.”
“Too much Silver Oaks?”
The mere thought of anything alcoholic made Margo’s stomach lurch. “No, I wish that was—” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Wait a minute. How did you know my favorite wine?”
“Uh, you must have told me last night.” Another nervous laugh. “Tell you what, bring Steph, too. I’ll meet you there in about an hour. Later.”
She had not mentioned Silver Oaks last night. Margo shook her head, immediately regretting the sudden movement. Someone at the law firm must have mentioned Margo to Raquel. How else could the woman know so much?
Dismissing it, for now, she called Steph and tried to sound semicoherent. Her sister was disgustingly alert and cheerful. Fortunately, the call lasted only a minute or two, and she dropped the phone.
“Shower,” she muttered, pushing to her feet while holding her aching head. “Coffee.”
She froze in midstep, suddenly remembering what—rather, who—had plagued her dreams. Jared. She would find him today, interview him, then forget him.
Forget him? The lie of the century.
Exactly seventy minutes later, she slid into an old-fashioned booth at the Little Diner. Amazing what hot water, hot coffee, and aspirin could a
ccomplish in so little time.
Steph looked as if she hadn’t been out last night at all, and Raquel Eastwood still had bombshell written all over her. Not only did she boast a mane of curls Nicole Kidman would’ve envied, but she had a body that wouldn’t quit. Margo’s short-cropped light brown hair and small breasts suddenly seemed more inadequate than usual.
She’d had more than her share of coffee already this morning, so she ordered tea and toast. “So, you’re Warren’s new law partner.” And why the chummy breakfast invitation?
“Uh, yeah.” Raquel took a sip of coffee and looked from Margo to Steph. “Warren’s out of town.”
“I know.” Steph shuddered dramatically. “When the answering service told me, I was afraid we’d be stuck in jail all night. But, you know, it was all kind of fun until we got to the police station.”
A strange expression entered the attorney’s blue eyes as she turned her gaze on Margo, then looked quickly back to Steph. “It could’ve been a lot worse,” Raquel said.
Steph giggled and winked at her sister. “Did you see the gorgeous dancer Margo got?”
“I didn’t get anyone.” Margo grimaced. She’d had him, once upon a time—definitely past tense. Her memory of last night was like a scene from a bad soap opera. She’d stayed out almost all night, gone to a male strip show, and been arrested—er, taken in for questioning. To punctuate the event, her college flame had barged into her life and her dreams.
“Mmm, the way he was looking at you, sis…”
“Oh?” Raquel tugged on her bra as if it was uncomfortable, and her face reddened. “You mean the guy at the station?”
When the attorney peered over the rim of her coffee cup, Margo was struck again by how much Raquel reminded her of someone. For some reason she just couldn’t determine why. Déjà vu?
“He was dancing at the club before the real police came.” Steph wrinkled her nose at Margo. “If you ask me, he was dancing for my sister.”
“Stephanie.” Margo’s face flooded with heat beneath Raquel’s stunned expression. “It was really nothing like that. I just happened to be sitting right in front, and—”
“Dancing?” Raquel asked quietly. “So, tell me what he was…like.”
What was he like? Hot fudge sundaes, my most erotic dreams, and the world’s fastest roller coaster. Flustered, Margo stared at Raquel. The woman was awfully nosy. “Well, you saw him, too.”
“Uh, yeah. Right.” Raquel laughed nervously as she added non-dairy creamer to her coffee even though there was real cream on the table. “I guess I really didn’t get a very good look at him.”
“That’s funny.” Steph smiled at Margo. “I thought Nick was the only person who preferred that powdered junk to the real thing.”
“Me, too.” Margo tried to smile but found a lump in her throat she couldn’t swallow. “Must be a prerequisite for the law firm.”
“Oh, really?” Raquel shrugged. “That must be the real reason Warren hired me.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” Steph grinned, tilting her head to the side. “I imagine it had a little something to do with your legs, and a couple of other things.”
Raquel coughed into her napkin as Steph dissolved into laughter, but Margo didn’t join her sister. There was something really strange about Raquel. Then again, maybe it had a little something to do with Margo’s lack of sleep and her hangover.
“Hey, sis, look.” Steph leaned forward, pointing toward the door. “Is that who I think it is?”
Dragging her attention from Raquel, Margo looked toward the door. And froze. Larger than life, Jared Carson’s impressive physique filled the doorway. This couldn’t be a coincidence. She’d called in and told her editor where she was having breakfast, in case anyone needed to reach her. Jared must have called to track her down.
Like a fist, her stomach pressed upward against her heart. Her throat clenched. Well, this would save her the trouble of looking for him later. After all, she still had an article to write, and he owed her a favor.
The thought of Jared repaying a favor sent tendrils of desire stretching through her veins. Seeing him again was dangerous, but by seeking her out he’d left her no choice.
Steph reached out and grabbed Margo’s wrist. “Oh, it is him, and he’s coming this way.”
“Great. Not again.”
Raquel’s reaction made Margo glance in her direction. The attorney’s eyes glittered dangerously. She looked angry. Why?
“Good morning, ladies.”
Margo jerked her head toward the sound of Jared’s unforgettable voice. Though it seemed impossible, he looked even better this morning wearing jeans and a soft gray T-shirt. Muscles rippled in his tanned arms and coarse dark hair accentuated every bulge and hollow.
“Hey, look who’s here.” Steph feigned surprise. Badly. “I don’t think we caught your name last night. I’m Steph Knutsen.” She thrust out her hand.
Jared shot her a crooked grin and took her hand in his. “Jared Carter,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.” Releasing her hand, he looked expectantly around the table.
Carter. Carson. Very smooth. Jared was lucky she’d attended college away from home so her family had never met him. Margo tried to avoid his gaze and turned her attention to Raquel. The woman’s nostrils flared slightly, and her lips looked as if they’d been glued together. No doubt about it—Raquel Eastwood had some pretty strong feelings about Jared.
When no one else made an effort to introduce themselves, Steph took it upon herself to do so. Margo sighed, wondering how two sisters could be so different.
“This is Raquel Eastwood, our attorney,” Steph said.
Raquel looked up and nodded, but made no effort to extend her hand.
“And this is my sister, Margo Riley.”
“Margo. Nice name.”
Margo mumbled something polite and allowed him to take her hand. The feel of his warm, rough skin against hers sent a jolt of awareness through her, flooding her mind with memories. Vivid memories. The things he’d done to her with those hands…
The interview, Margo. She had to remain focused on her assignment. Jared meant nothing to her—not anymore. She couldn’t let him mean anything to her now. She was too vulnerable after losing Nick, though it had been two years. Two centuries probably wouldn’t be enough. Besides, everything she and Jared shared had been destroyed forever. Even acknowledging that simple truth seemed disloyal to her dead husband. Guilt pressed down on her, hard and fast.
Jared released her hand and stiffened slightly. “Riley and Knutsen.” He kept smiling, but the familiar twitch in his jaw revealed his internal struggle to hold his feelings tightly in check. “Guess one of you sisters must be married then.”
“Margo’s a widow,” Steph supplied, earning a groan from Raquel.
Surprise registered in Jared’s eyes. The expression he turned toward Margo was a blend of sympathy and astonishment, without a trace of the malice he’d once held for Nick.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere.
Tears scalded her eyes, but Margo blinked them into retreat. Sympathy from Jared was more than her raw emotions could take right now. Part of her wanted nothing more than to have a long talk with him, while another part of her wanted to run fast and hard. Facing Jared alone would resurrect it all—the pain, the joy, the hunger. And now, here he was expressing genuine sympathy about Nick’s death.
Too much. She couldn’t breathe. They were all staring at her expectantly. Waiting. Somehow, she had to get away. She’d find another stripper to interview. Jared was too dangerous, too memorable.
Too desirable.
“Uh, I really have to get to the office. I have a million things to do today.” Resisting the urge to sniffle, she pulled some bills from her blazer pocket and thrust them toward her sister. “This should cover my check. You all have a nice day, and thanks for inviting us to breakfast, Raquel.”
Without looking at anyone or responding to Steph’s objection, Margo slid from the booth
and headed toward the back of the diner. The room was nothing but a blur of moving colors and shadows as she made her way toward the rest room. She was running away.
Damn straight.
And she would hide in the bathroom all day if she had to.
Whatever it takes.
The bathroom was blissfully empty, and Margo leaned her flushed cheek against the closed door. Sanctuary. Her breathing gradually calmed, and the tears ceased to threaten her composure. She blew her nose and splashed her face with cool water, then reapplied her powder and lipstick.
After running a comb through her hair, she stared at her reflection. Shame ebbed through her. Margo Knutsen Riley was not a coward.
Oh, yes I am.
No. No I’m not.
She drew a deep, fortifying breath. Damn it, I am not a coward. Later today, just before the Studfinder opened, she’d go find Jared and conduct the interview.
And face all her ghosts—past and present.
5
Nick Riley was dead. Jared jogged out to the Studfinder, trying to digest that shocking information. Unbelievable. He’d had no idea.
Margo was available.
He paused across the street from the nightclub, his breath catching. Talk about tacky. He didn’t even know how long Nick had been gone, and here he was thinking about—
Past tense. Why would Margo want anything to do with someone in his insane career field—either his current fake one or his real one—not to mention someone her late husband had hated and that she believed had been unfaithful to her? With a sigh, Jared crossed the street.
He had to put Margo out of his mind, though he still needed to talk to her again to ensure she would keep his cover. The Margo he’d known would never break a promise, but they’d both changed a lot since college.
Knowing the other dancers wouldn’t be there yet, Jared slipped into the dressing room and ran his usual search, coming up empty-handed—again. So far, he’d seen no proof of drugs coming into or out of this establishment, though he needed to get back into the office again and check out the computer. The muckety-mucks had been sure enough to set up this crazy assignment. All Jared could do was keep his eyes open for anything unusual.
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