“Not particularly.” Jordan watched as Tom continued his search of the refrigerator. “If you’re looking for that container of plain, non-fat yogurt that you use to hide your Girl Scout cookies, Mom threw it out.”
Tom froze. Then stared at his son with horror. “She threw it out?”
“Mmm-hmm. The date was expired.”
“So you knew what was in there, and that she was going to toss it, and you just… let her?”
Jordan looked at him with amusement. “What was I supposed to say? You can’t throw that expired dairy product away because Dad uses it to stow the sugar and saturated fat he’s not supposed to have?”
“You’re a clever boy. You could have come up with something.”
“What’s it worth to you?” Jordan’s grin was evil.
“Damn, son.” Tom closed the refrigerator door. “I believe I’ve underestimated you. You took the container out of the trash and hid it, didn’t you?”
“Leave me the autographed ball in your will and I just might tell you where the cookies are.”
“Are you anxious to kill me off?”
“No, you’re doing a fine job of that with doughnuts and cookies.”
“Hmm. Funny that you’ve never bothered to lecture me before. It’s also funny that you’ve neatly turned the tide of conversation away from your problems and toward my own. You think I wouldn’t notice?”
Jordan shifted the weight of the drinks into one hand so that he could pat Tom’s shoulder with the other. “I just wanted to be sure all that bran and oatmeal Mom’s been feeding you hadn’t muddled your brain.” He jerked his chin toward the pantry. “I hid the Thin Mints in the bottom of the box of Wheaties.”
“The breakfast of champions.”
“Exactly.” His son’s grin mirrored his own. “And now that we have that settled, let me answer your question. The Fuller case is weighing on me like a ton of bricks,” he admitted as the smile disappeared. “A woman I once cared about seems to be missing and may have tried to maim me. And I have the worst case of sexual frustration that I’ve experienced since high school. Other than that, I’m dandy.”
“Well.” Tom stroked his chin as he considered his son’s troubles. Jordan was, always had been, the family crusader. And carried responsibility like a shield. “The only thing I can say about the first problem is that you’re a brilliant attorney. But sometimes even brilliant attorneys can only practice the law to the best of their abilities, and leave the trickier issue of justice in the hands of a higher power.”
“I know. I know. It’s just… easier said than done.”
“Number two.” Tom shoved another six-pack of Coke at his son. “Never piss off a redhead. But when, and if, you get proof she had something to do with that, you throw the damn book. And as to the third…” He put his arm around Jordan and steered him toward the door. “If you can’t figure out a way to fix that, then you’re no son of mine.”
JORDAN considered how to do just that while he bounced his nephew on his knee and fought off the well-meaning intentions of the child’s mother. Jack’s wife was a romance novelist, and tended to take the whole matchmaking thing a step or ten too far.
“Caitlin, I know you have my best interests at heart, but I have no interest in being set up with any more of your friends.”
The baby gurgled and spit up, and Caitlin wiped a cloth across her son’s mouth before turning deceptively innocent eyes on Jordan. The angelic look was a crock. She was an out of control cupid, and there was a bulls-eye on his ass.
“It’s not a set up, Jordan. Simply an introduction. Katie’s a wonderful young woman, very lovely, and I thought that you might enjoy her company.”
“Uh-huh. And while I’m enjoying her company, would I be expected to provide a meal, a movie or sexual favors?”
“Honestly, Jordan. I was only going to suggest that you meet her for a couple of drinks.”
His nephew made a fumbling attempt to wrap his pudgy fingers around Jordan’s nose. “Don’t listen to her, Caleb. Today it’s drinks, tomorrow you’re trading your Oshkosh B’Gosh for a rented tux.” The baby laughed, drool running from a crooked grin. God, the poor little sucker looked exactly like his father.
Caitlin’s pretty mouth twisted into a pout.
“Is this guy giving you trouble, sugar?” Clay strolled over, liquored up and mellow, and swung a companionable arm over Caitlin’s shoulder.
“I simply wanted to introduce my favorite brother-in-law to a woman I know,” she told Clay, “and he’s accusing me of all manner of vile things.”
Jordan rolled his eyes. They were all her favorite brother-in-law, depending on whose love life she’d decided to meddle in. “Let me tell you about the last time she talked me into one of these introductions.” He stood and handed the baby off to Caitlin so that he could shift his attention to Clay.
“About four months ago, I made the mistake of letting Caitlin set me up with one of her friends. Now don’t look at me like that, Caitlin – it was a mistake, and you know it. Anyway,” he turned back at Clay. “This girl was a cute little redhead from Caitlin’s book club. We met for dinner, had a nice time, took in a movie about a week later. Things were going along fine, and after a fairly interesting make-out session on her couch I began to entertain possibilities. Apparently, she began to entertain some possibilities of her own. So she decided to pay me a visit one day, wearing a raincoat and nothing else.”
Caitlin bit her lip, but Clay looked at him like he’d sprouted another head. “Let me get this straight.” He tilted his beer toward Jordan. “Your sister-in-law hooks you up with an attractive female who acts out one of every man’s fantasies, and you’re… complaining?”
“I was in the middle of a trial when she decided to act it out. Literally. She showed up in the courtroom.”
“Look, you made him choke.” Caitlin pounded Clay on the back.
“Yeah, give me another three or four decades and I’m sure I’ll find the whole thing funny, too.”
“I’m sorry, Jordan. And I know it was all my fault.” Merriment danced in Caitlin’s eyes when she turned to Clay to explain. “You see, there’s a scene very similar to what Jordan just described in one of my novels. I’m afraid Miranda read it and, well, got some ideas.” Laughter bubbled out before she could stop it. “But I swear, Jordan. Katie’s not the raincoat type.”
An ant crawled up the back of Jordan’s leg, and he reached down to swat it. “Did you meet her through your book club?”
“Well, yes.”
“Does she read romance novels?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve heard enough.” He threw his arms to his sides, an umpire declaring the runner out. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Just because she enjoys a good love story and has auburn hair doesn’t make her a stalker.”
“Well, you just clinched it. I can’t have drinks with her because I’m through with redheads.” Thoughts of Leslie Fitzsimmons – yet another redhead – brought an uncomfortable little twist in his gut. “Case closed.”
Grace, Jesse’s two-year-old, toddled over, and Jordan picked her up and tossed her into the air amid peals of laughter. Her pink dress was covered in juice, there was something dark and sticky in her tumble of blonde curls, and her chin bore the melted remains of a chocolate Easter bunny. When Jordan set her down Finn charged after her to lick her face.
“Oh, come on Jordan. It’s just drinks.”
“Yeah, come on Jordan.”
Jordan looked at Clay with irritation. “If you’re so game, Clay, why don’t you go?”
“That’s a great idea!” Caitlin lit up so brightly that Jordan and Clay both blinked. “You guys can double up. I’m sure Katie has a friend she could bring along. That way there’s no pressure.”
“Okay.” Clay was clearly much more wasted than Jordan thought.
“Clay, you’re here to help me with a case, not play matchmaker. If I want a date, I can get my own.”
&nbs
p; “You weren’t having too much luck at the park today.”
Jordan sent him a fulminating look. “A temporary setback, and none of your damn business.”
“Now, Jordan.” Clay sat his empty bottle on the step and rested both hands on Jordan’s shoulders. “That thing about all work and no play isn’t just a cliché. Trust me when I tell you that sometimes it helps to step away from the situation so that you can gain a little perspective. We can start as early as you like tomorrow, and by, oh… let’s say seven o’clock we should be ready for a break. A couple of drinks, some conversation. Clears the mind, son.”
Jordan scrubbed his hand across his face. “I can’t believe this. What happened to male solidarity?”
“One word: raincoat.” The traitor winked at Caitlin. “You think your friend would be interested in getting together tomorrow?”
“Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away.”
“Well then. It sounds like we have ourselves an introduction.”
THE bright light of Easter Sunday had softened toward dusk by the time Ava pulled into her drive. Dinner was going to be late, but Lou Ellen wasn’t one to mind the clock. Besides, Ava’d had too much damn fun to allow guilt to ruin it.
She’d driven halfway to Florida and back, passing every police station she could find along the way. Then she’d stumbled on a roadside festival, disappearing into the crowd.
The cotton candy had been nearly as tasty as the goon’s frustration.
Though she had to give this one credit. He’d stuck like a bloodthirsty tick on a plump hound. And by the deep red flush that had crept up his neck whenever she waved at him, she didn’t think he was too happy with his assignment.
Good. That made two of them.
Running her fingers through her tangled hair, Ava smiled at herself in the rearview mirror. Nothing like making one of her uncle’s trained dogs jump through hoops to brighten the day.
Her smile turned to a grimace as she stepped from the car and noticed the state of her dress. The wrinkles would come out when she had it dry cleaned, but she wasn’t so sure about the grease stain from the carrousel. If she ruined one more garment due to dealing with her uncle’s shenanigans she was going to be seriously pissed.
Gravel crunched behind her, and she turned.
The switchblade flashed, and Ava felt the bite of it under her chin.
“Hola.” The word was no less menacing for its pleasant tone, the goon’s face no less threatening because it smiled handsomely. His skin was dark and clear, and a leather band restrained hair that was thick, black, and long. But his eyes told the real story. They were flat, desolately cold.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ava wasn’t afraid, not yet. But she was cautious, and that kept her from flicking the knife away with an angry hand.
“I might ask you the same thing. You take foolish chances, querida, when you play your little games with me. You tried my patience today.” He moved closer, until her back was against her car. Her thighs pressed intimately against his. He wasn’t that much taller than she, but his presence was disproportionately huge. His breath floated warm and almost sweet against her skin.
Despite herself, Ava shuddered. This man was unlike the others in her uncle’s employ – smooth, well spoken.
And somehow, that made him worse.
“You don’t scare me.”
“No?” The blade pressed, just short of penetration. “Then you’re a fool. I could kill you with a flick of my wrist.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Ava was determined to hold her ground despite the curl of unease in her belly. “My father…” if either of them moved, just the slightest bit, it would be her blood that spilled. “My father would skin you like an animal.”
“Your father is in jail.”
“And you think my uncle would reward you for killing his only niece?” She regretted it the minute she said it. And she cursed herself as pathetic for using her uncle as a defense.
The goon chuckled. And stepping back, just a little bit, used the blade to groom his nails. “What makes you think your uncle didn’t give the order?”
The question, asked so casually, had a chill snaking down her back.
“Ah, I see the cat has taken hold of your sharp tongue. But you’re correct, senorita, your uncle doesn’t wish to see you harmed.” The goon patiently trimmed his thumbnail, discarded the remnants near his booted foot. “Your uncle is a passionate man. A man, you could say, who’s ruled by his blood. And his blood flows in your veins. But you and me…” He pointed at her with the blade and then angled it back toward himself. “We share no blood. So don’t believe I would suffer your uncle’s compunction about spilling yours.”
The blade flashed again as he ran the flat of it down her cheek. For the first time in longer than she remembered, Ava truly tasted her own fear.
“You think about that next time you decide to play your little games with me.”
The sound of a shotgun being pumped caused Ava’s racing heart to stutter.
“And you think about this, senor.” Lou Ellen stepped off the porch, her whiskey voice iced with cold fury. “The next time you threaten my tenant, the next time you set foot on my property, the next time you so much as breathe within a five block radius of either one of us, I’ll shoot your balls off. And believe me, I’ll suffer no compunction about eliminating you from the gene pool.” She held the shotgun steady and gestured with her chin. “Now get the hell out of here before my finger gets itchy.”
With a careless movement of his wrist, the man looming over Ava closed the switchblade, then rapped it lightly against her nose.
Ignoring Lou Ellen, he whistled I’ll Be Seeing You as he strolled away.
“Oh my God.” With an uncharacteristic loss of composure, Ava threw her arms around Lou Ellen’s neck. “Oh my God. You didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Lou.”
LOU ELLEN held the shotgun aside and wrapped Ava in a tight embrace. “Stop your babbling, child.” Her heart, which had all but stopped when she’d looked out the window, began to pulse an erratic beat. Ava was the closest thing she had to a daughter. And despite the fact that Ava told her little, and complained even less, she knew the girl was under a tremendous strain.
The men she’d seen at all hours of the day and night weren’t lurking on the street because they needed veterinary services.
Knowing that Ava would talk about it only if and when she needed to, Lou Ellen tucked a lock of tousled hair behind the younger woman’s ear. Her smile was bland as she shouldered the shotgun. “So. What are we having for dinner?”
Because it was exactly what she needed to hear, Ava laughed.
CHAPTER TENAVA had passed a perfectly pleasant evening with Lou Ellen over dinner and a bottle of wine. She’d inoculated a litter of kittens, treated a rabbit with sore hocks and removed a benign lump from a Labrador before noon. Lunch was spent at her desk, catching up on paperwork. Her life was too busy to waste time with worry.
But whenever she had reason to be out front, Ava found herself looking for the black Thunderbird.
God knew why she’d had to provoke the man yesterday. Galling as it was, she had to admit she’d behaved foolishly.
And the worst part of it was that she’d inadvertently drawn Lou Ellen into the fray.
Since that was bad enough, she’d held her tongue when Katie asked about her weekend. Keeping it to herself – and keeping herself in line – was the best way she knew to protect the people she cared for.
Her thoughts wandered back to the task at hand as she finished a neat line of stitches on the abdomen of the pampered cocker spaniel she’d just spayed. The little minx had gone looking for adventure, digging under the backyard fence while her mistress planted gladiolas.
She’d found that adventure with the lab-terrier mix next door.
The puppies had been given away and the fence repaired, but the purebred’s reputation was damaged beyond repair. Sh
e’d retired from the dog show circuit in shame.
Ava rolled weary eyes while she considered the ridiculous things people worried about.
“Okay, Katie. Let’s get this little tramp into post-op.”
Katie smiled as she finished cleaning up the implements Ava’d used during the surgery. “Don’t let Mrs. Harris hear you say that. By the way that woman was carrying on you’d think it was Queen Elizabeth that got knocked up.” She helped Ava shift the unconscious dog into the room they used for recovery.
Ava grabbed a paper towel to dab at the Betadine she’d gotten on her sleeve. “Now why is it that you can make comments like that,” she asked Katie, “but when I do you mutter about sarcasm and customer relations.”
“First of all, I never mutter. You mutter. I enunciate clearly and concisely. The mode of delivery makes all the difference.”
“Kiss. My. Ass. You’re right. That sounds much better,” Ava said as she headed toward her office.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes to consider why curse words are a crutch of the unimaginative,” Katie called after her. “There’s a guinea pig with an infected war wound due in at four. Suspected hamster uprising.”
“I’ll be sure to bring along a little purple heart.”
Ava pushed a lock of hair from her face as she plopped into her seat. The stack of files on her desk from her weekend patients threatened to topple over, so she grabbed one off the top. And took the punch to the gut when she saw Finn/ Wellington scrawled by her own hand.
The man was insanely appealing, but that surely didn’t warrant this dragging sense of disappointment. It wasn’t like he was the first attractive man to ever express an interest. And he wasn’t likely to be the last.
Was she feeling so peevish because her uncle had inadvertently made Jordan something akin to a forbidden fruit?
How long had it been since she’d felt this way? All tingly and excited and nauseous. Probably not since… Michael.
Almost two years. Almost two years since her mother had gone missing, her father had gone out of his head, and her engagement had gone the way of the dinosaurs. Michael had taken his ring back in a fiery explosion of anger and fear, leaving her to choke on the cloud of their relationship’s dust. He’d loved her, but he hadn’t loved her enough to take on her family.
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