by Janice Sims
He was surprised when she approached him for comfort and was even more surprised by how natural it felt to wrap his arms around her.
The policemen, however, were giving him suspicious looks.
“It’s okay, he’s staying with my neighbor down the beach,” Lana told them. “She runs a bed-and-breakfast. I know him.”
“What happened?” Ten asked.
The lead officer, Officer Edwards, then gave an account of Lana’s statement, after which he wanted to know if Ten had encountered anyone on his run over here to see what the commotion was about.
“No,” Ten said regrettably, “there was no one on the beach.”
“Did you hear any car doors slamming or an engine starting after the perpetrator fled?” Officer Edwards asked Lana.
She shook her head.
“He must have left his vehicle several blocks away,” Ten suggested. “If Lana didn’t hear anything until he was already in her bedroom, stealth was his objective.” He looked around. “And from the lack of physical evidence of a break-in, he must have known how to get around the security system, like Lana said.”
Officer Edwards twisted the end of his bushy black moustache. “Can you tell me of anyone besides your father and yourself who would know the code?”
Lana couldn’t think of anyone. Surely her father hadn’t given it to any of his lady friends. That was just asking for trouble, the fatal attraction kind. “Only the people who work for the security firm,” she said. “But you should talk to my father, Officer. I don’t live here. I’m just visiting.”
Officer Edwards sighed with resignation. It was apparent to Lana that he was hoping for more of a lead to go on. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, and walked outside to confer with his partners in uniform, beckoning to the other officer in the room as he went past him.
In their absence, Ten asked, “Are you sure nothing’s missing?”
Lana’s hand automatically went to her throat since she was so used to the locket being around her neck. She immediately felt its absence. “My locket!” she cried, and took off running for the stairs. Ten followed.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the locket, safe on the nightstand where she’d left it that night. “Thank God he didn’t get this,” she said as she slipped it into the pocket of her bathrobe.
They then headed back downstairs where Officer Edwards was waiting to speak with Lana. “Miss Corday,” he said gravely, “we could find no means by which the perpetrator entered your house, therefore we will have to conclude, at least for the time being, that he had a key and knew your security codes. You’re positive you engaged the system before going to bed?”
“I’m sure,” Lana told him.
“I hear your father is a successful author. This guy could be a deranged fan or something. He is definitely not your run-of-the-mill break-and-enter kind of criminal. This took some finesse. But we’ll find him. Until we do, we’ll patrol the area. I would suggest, however, that you not stay here tonight. Do you have somewhere you could go?”
“Officer,” Ten spoke up. “Mrs. Corday won’t be alone. I’ll stay with her.”
Officer Edwards looked to Lana for her approval or disapproval of the suggestion. She nodded. “Thank you, Officer. Between Mr. West and Bowser I should be safe.”
Bowser stood by her side, wagging his tail. She rubbed his head.
Officer Edwards smiled down at Bowser. “That’s a good dog you’ve got there.” Earlier Lana had told him how Bowser had chased the burglar out of the house.
Lana escorted Officer Edwards to the door, and called her thanks to the other officers.
She closed and locked the door, then set the alarm once again.
Turning to Ten, she said, “I know I’m not going to get back to sleep now. Want to watch one of Dad’s old movies?”
They settled on the couch in the living room and watched—in Lana’s case, cried over—the 1934 version of Imitation of Life starring Louise Beavers and Claudette Colbert.
Lana made popcorn and raided her dad’s stock of Coronas, his favorite beer. She rarely drank and was hoping the alcohol would put her to sleep. But Ten’s company was so stimulating she didn’t feel sleepy at all after downing a brew.
She burped daintily behind her hand after swallowing the last of the Corona. “Excuse me,” she said.
“Please, Lana, I barely heard a sound,” Ten joked. “Are all you Southern belles so genteel?”
“Southern belle?” asked Lana. “My daddy didn’t raise no Southern belle!”
Ten grinned, getting into their give-and-take. They were both stretched out on the large eight-foot couch, their feet touching. Ten had on socks, Lana didn’t. She still had on her bathrobe, under which was a rather skimpy nightgown. The thick cotton robe whose hem fell a couple inches past her knees covered it appropriately. Ten was enjoying the view of her shapely legs, though. Up until now he’d seen her only in jeans.
“What did your daddy raise?” he asked, brows arched questioningly.
“I think he wanted a boy,” Lana told him. “He taught me how to use a gun, to hunt, fish and swim. He even taught me how to be tough even when I really wanted to cry like a baby.”
“You sound like Tucker Brady,” Ten said.
Lana sat up straighter and regarded him with a new perspective. Tucker Brady was her father’s most beloved character. Tucker was born and bred in the Outer Banks. His father had taught him to live off the land and to be resilient when faced with any obstacles. He was a detective in New York City but he used wiles he’d learned in the Outer Banks to catch criminals in an urban setting.
“You’ve read the Tucker Brady books?” she asked softly.
Ten laughed. “Of course I’ve read them. Would I have asked your dad if I could make a documentary about his life if I weren’t a real fan?”
“I suppose not,” Lana admitted. “It’s just that it’s so seldom I meet a man who reads.”
“Is that a turn-on?” Ten asked playfully.
“It would be if I weren’t a married woman,” Lana said, effectively pouring ice water on any thoughts of ardor on his part.
“I see,” said Ten. His gaze rested on her ring finger. “From the moment I met you I couldn’t help noticing you don’t wear a wedding ring. I only referred to you as Mrs. Corday because your father told me you were married.”
Lana slumped back on the couch. “That’s a long story. The kind that would put a damper on what has, besides the obvious exception of a burglary, been a pretty pleasant night.”
Ten smiled at that. He was glad she was loosening up and beginning to regard him as a friend. “I don’t mean to pry, so if you don’t want to tell me why you’re not wearing your rings, it’s okay.”
Lana met his gaze. “I’m not wearing them because I don’t even know where my husband is. To get the full story, all you have to do is put the name Jeremy Corday into any search engine.”
Ten wasn’t about to pretend he didn’t know who Jeremy Corday was. He would be a pretty poor journalist if he hadn’t thoroughly researched his subject, Aaron Braithwaite, before coming to the Outer Banks to interview him. That meant looking into his immediate family as well.
“You can relax,” he said softly. “I know who Jeremy Corday is and I don’t believe the hype the media has been spreading about you.”
Lana didn’t look surprised by his admission. Her eyes never left his face. “I had a feeling you knew all along,” she told him.
“How could you have guessed?” he asked cautiously.
“It was the way you looked at me...sympathetic, bordering on pity.”
Ten was shocked. If that were the case, he was more competent in his undercover role than in his role as an agent. He wasn’t supposed to allow his emotions to come to the forefront when dealing with subjects of
an investigation.
“I’m sorry if you thought I pitied you,” he said. “I don’t. I do sympathize, though. I believed you when I’d heard you knew nothing about his criminal activities. The first rule of any con artist is to keep his moves close to his chest. It wouldn’t make sense for him to tell you anything.”
“Not only did he keep his business a secret from me,” Lana said, “in essence, he kept himself a secret from me. Most of the details he told me about himself turned out to be untrue.”
Lana told Ten about the time FBI agents had come to the house following the explosion on the yacht. He saw the scene unfold in his mind as she spoke.
Still an emotional wreck the following day, she had been crying when two agents arrived and asked if they could speak with her about Jeremy Corday. As they had sat on her designer sofa in her million-dollar home, overlooking San Francisco Bay, they told her of the various aliases Jeremy had used over the years. His real name was Jeremy, yes, but his real last name was Davis. Jeremy Davis had been born in Los Angeles, and he still had family there, a mother, a father and several brothers and sisters. Another lie, since he’d told her he had been an orphan and literally shuffled from one temporary home to another. Oh, and he had failed to mention that he had been married twice before. Apparently, he also had four children. No wonder he hadn’t wanted more with her.
Lana released a weary sigh. She somehow felt better after letting all of that out. She smiled at Ten. “Just call me the bag lady, because, boy do I have plenty of baggage.”
Seeing the sheer misery in her eyes caused Ten to truly hate Jeremy Corday in that moment.
This had now become personal to him. He moved closer and pulled her into his embrace.
She curled up to him, and relaxed in his arms, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “I’m so tired.”
“Then go to sleep,” he said softly.
So she did.
Chapter 5
Lana was dreaming she was floating in the ocean looking up at a pale blue, cloudless sky. The water was warm and she could hear it lapping at her ears as she lay on the surface. Suddenly, a dolphin swam up to her and nudged her in the side with its nose. She didn’t panic. It was as if the dolphin was an old friend and had simply come to play. She flipped over onto her stomach and reached for the dolphin, which nuzzled her face. But instead, she awoke to Bowser licking her face.
“I love you, but you could use a breath mint,” she cried.
She was still on the couch where she’d fallen asleep in Ten’s arms before dawn this morning. A throw had been placed over her. She sat up, and stretched. Bowser sat down on the floor beside her and patiently waited for her to acknowledge him. She knew it was time for his morning meal but he rarely rushed her. She wondered if he was this patient with her father when it came to mealtime.
She smelled coffee. Then she heard someone moving around in the kitchen, someone who was obviously looking for a frying pan or other cookware from the sound of it.
She got up and trudged into the kitchen where she saw Ten bent over, rummaging in the lower cabinets where her father kept his pots and pans.
“Good morning,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. The clock on the wall above the sink read 8:13.
Ten looked as good this morning as he had last night. His dark-chocolate eyes lit up when he saw her. The stubble on his face just made him better-looking. No matter in the corners of his eyes, or dry-looking lips. She had hastily cleaned the corners of her eyes before strolling in, but she was sure her hair was sticking up on her head and that her lips were dry. A surreptitious intake of breath also revealed she had morning breath. Just great, she thought.
“Hey,” he said with a smile. “I was going to cook breakfast for you but I couldn’t find a frying pan.”
She walked over and pulled open the drawer next to the gas cooktop. “Voila!” Her dad didn’t store his frying pans below, he kept them in a drawer next to the stove for easy access, since he used them more often than the other pots and pans.
“Smart,” Ten said with approval. He selected a medium-size skillet and put it atop a burner. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Any way you cook them,” Lana said. “I’m not picky. Just don’t put any salt on them. I think salt and sugar poison the system and should be avoided as much as possible. We already get enough of both in our food without adding more. Besides, I like the natural taste of food.”
“Duly noted,” Ten said as he spooned some butter into the skillet. “I see your dad uses real butter, not that imitation stuff.”
“He’s going on olive oil when he gets home from the hospital,” Lana said.
“Kicking and screaming,” Ten predicted.
“You can bet on that.” Lana laughed. She then went to the pantry and grabbed a big bag of dry dog food and poured some into Bowser’s bowl after which she mixed it with a can of organic dog food that looked like chunks of beef in gravy.
Bowser who was close by tore into the bowl as if he were starving. “Slow down,” she chided with a laugh.
“So that’s what he was trying to tell me,” Ten said as he gently flipped fried eggs in the skillet. “He came up to me, and just sat down. After I ignored him he must have gone looking for you.”
“Woke me up out of a great dream,” Lana said with a mischievous smile.
“Oh, yeah?” said Ten. “Were you alone in it?”
“No, there was someone else there,” she said.
“How were you dressed?”
“I was practically naked,” Lana answered nonchalantly. She was putting fresh water into a bowl for Bowser as Ten slid the cooked eggs onto two plates.
“Were the both of you practically naked?”
“Dolphins don’t wear clothes, so I guess he was completely naked,” she said as she turned to look him in the eyes. “Gotcha!”
Ten laughed. “You’re a tease.”
“Just practicing my skills for the day when I start trusting the male sex again. That is, if that day ever comes,” she said with an awkward grin. “Come on, let’s eat, then I need to phone the hospital and see what time they’re going to let Dad come home today.”
They ate fried eggs, toast with strawberry jam and drank glasses of orange juice and cups of Jamaican coffee. They talked easily throughout the meal. Ten even told her past stories of his love life.
Lana assumed the role of advisor since she said she was an “unbiased onlooker with experience under her belt,” which meant she’d been bruised and battered in the relationship game and was qualified to warn him of the pitfalls.
“You say the last woman you dated cheated on you because of your need to travel for your job?” she asked, looking at him over the rim of her coffee mug.
“Yeah,” Ten said, his gaze on her mouth. He was trying his best to stay aloof and unaffected by her magnetism but so far it had been a losing proposition. She exuded sexuality even in that bulky bathrobe, which hid every curve of her body.
It was in the way she pouted unconsciously, her mouth looking so enticing he could almost taste her lips. It was also in the curve of her neck, so graceful, and the symmetry of her clavicle, so damned sexy. Women didn’t know how drawn a man could be to parts of their bodies they never gave a single thought to. A man craved more than breasts, legs and butts. A woman’s back for example could be an invitation to sex for a man.
Ten had to stop himself. Lana had said something, but he’d missed it because he’d been so preoccupied wondering what was underneath her robe.
“I’m sorry?” he coaxed.
“I said your job isn’t the reason she cheated on you. If I really like a man, it’s the time I spend with him that counts, not the time I’m not with him. I can forgive long hours or frequent trips if the time we spend together is worthwhile.”
“Maybe she wasn’t as self-sufficient as you are,” Ten suggested.
“Do you know whom she cheated on you with?”
“I didn’t want to know,” Ten said bluntly. He was not making this up. So far the only thing he’d lied to Lana about was his real last name, occupation and current place of residence. However, his lies were for the purposes of his assignment only. Everything else he shared with Lana was the truth. Monica, whom he’d dated for over a year, had admitted cheating on him after he returned from an assignment that had kept him away from her for six weeks. To him that had not been a long time. But to a woman who was used to having men fall at her feet, it was an eternity. He hadn’t been able to contact her due to the clandestine nature of the assignment and she was livid. She said she’d cheated to teach him a lesson and that no one ignored Monica. Lesson learned.
“I learned that I can’t keep a woman based solely on my good looks and charm,” he said to Lana with a slight smile on his face. “I obviously didn’t give her what she needed.”
Lana smiled back at him and patted his hand consolingly. “What you needed was a different woman. I’ve known you all of twenty-four hours and here we are having breakfast together after sleeping together. Okay, we didn’t sleep together but you get my drift.” She playfully giggled. “You’re a catch. So what if you have a demanding job that keeps you on the road a lot. There is a woman out there who’ll appreciate you, even thrive on you. She just wasn’t the one.”
Are you the one? Ten found himself wondering. Once again he had to shake loose those annoying emotions that kept coming to the surface when he was around Lana.
“If you say so,” he said noncommittally. He smiled again as he stood up and collected their plates. “You want to wash or dry?”
Lana stood up, too, and began clearing the rest of the dishes from the table. “No, no, you cooked, I’ll do the dishes. Go home already. I’ve kept you long enough. I’m sure that burglar is long gone, probably planning his next heist.”
“I’d hate to leave you alone,” Ten reluctantly said. He did, however, have something to do that required privacy. To pull it off, he needed to know where Lana and her father would be for the next few hours. Wangling an invitation to go with her to pick up her father would accomplish that. “Besides, imagine how favorable I’ll look in your dad’s eyes if I’m with you when you pick him up at the hospital. He hasn’t exactly agreed to do the documentary yet, you know. I need all the brownie points I can earn.”