We need to stop meeting like this? You seem a lot more intelligent when you’re fully conscious? By the way, you owe me a hundred bucks because the blood from your gaping head-wound ruined my favorite pants?
She directed the pointed toe of her shoe toward Katie’s shin.
“Ow. Oh, hey.” Katie gauged Ava’s desperate expression and finally deigned to toss out a conversational gambit. “So, Jordan. Caitlin tells me you’re a lawyer.”
Ava’s shoulders relaxed, and she took another swig of her drink. If she could just keep Katie talking, she might be able to get through the next forty-five minutes without accidentally incriminating herself.
“That’s right. I’m an assistant district attorney.”
Rum sprayed out of Ava’s mouth, covering the table in effervescent droplets.
“Are you okay?” Jordan rubbed her back as Ava continued to choke. Tears swam into her eyes when the rub turned into a pat.
“I’m fine. Wrong pipe.” She waved a hand to ward him off. Shit. Holy shit. Consorting with a prosecutor.
That just about topped the list of Things One Shouldn’t Do When One’s Uncle’s a Known Criminal.
She turned doe in the headlight eyes on Katie.
But Katie was too busy smiling at the blue-eyed can of worms she’d opened. “Really? That must be interesting.”
“It has its moments.”
His friend – Clay – snorted, which of course drew Katie’s attention right back to him. “Are you an attorney, too?”
“God, no.”
This time Jordan was the one to snort. “Worse. He’s a psychologist.”
“Private practice?” Ava asked, because if it hadn’t been for her love of animals, that may have been the path she’d have chosen. She’d always been fascinated by what made people tick.
“Ah, no, actually. I’m a behavioral specialist with the FBI.”
To her credit, Ava managed to keep herself from choking a second time. Good thing, since the behavioral specialist was watching her like a hawk.
Looking around the table, she decided this little gathering was starting to resemble a den of lions. And she was the sacrificial Christian. If it weren’t for the fact that Katie had brought her, she would have suspected some kind of sting.
Not that she herself had ever done anything illegal – or nothing major, anyway. But when one’s relatives were players in one of the biggest crime rings in the southeast, one acquired a “person of interest” status by default.
And then there was the little matter of her pulling Mr. Assistant District Attorney here– Jesus – out of that stupid trunk. Try explaining that without ending up in jail.
“Oh hey. Look at the time.” Ava glanced down and was relieved to find that she was, indeed, wearing a watch. Otherwise her ruse could have been a little awkward. “It’s been nice, and I hate to cut the fun short, but I’m afraid I have to be going. Katie, don’t worry about the ride. I’ll take a cab.”
Hell, she’d walk, run, or sprout wings and fly if that’s what it took to get out of there.
A prosecutor and an FBI agent.
Mother of God.
“What’s the rush?” Jordan reached for her hand as Ava stood. When she attempted to pull away he manacled her wrist like a human handcuff.
And okay, that image wasn’t helping. “Professional crisis.” She smiled, much like a canary trying to dissuade a hungry cat.
“Ava saved a life today,” Katie explained. “A client’s dog was hit by a car.”
“Wow.” Jordan maintained his death grip on her wrist and leaned his chin casually on his free hand. “That’s fantastic. Not the car-hitting part, but the life-saving part. What did you have to do?”
“Well, it was more of a leg that we were in danger of losing. Basically I repaired the damage as best I could and set the leg with a couple of steel rods.” She gave what she hoped was another inconspicuous tug of her hand. “He’s recovering from the surgery now. That’s why I have to get back. I really hadn’t planned on staying long.”
“What a coincidence. Neither had I.” Jordan changed his grip so that her fingers had no choice but to interlock with his, then pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Opening it one-handed, he tossed Clay a couple of bills. “Here. Drinks are on me.” He turned his attention to Katie. “I’ll take Ava back to the clinic if you don’t mind giving Clay a ride home.”
Ignoring the warning look in Ava’s eyes, the traitor continued to smile at Jordan. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“Excellent.” Jordan let go of Ava’s hand long enough to slip a key off his ring. “Don’t wait up.” He passed the key to his friend, who only winked when Ava’s mouth fell open.
For the second time since she’d met him, Ava realized that Jordan Wellington had completely maneuvered her.
When they reached the sidewalk – where the cool, damp air did little to relieve her temper – she finally shook off Jordan’s arm and whirled on him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Jordan halted his stride long enough to give her a considering look. “I think I’m giving you a ride. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Don’t be cute, Wellington.”
“Ah. So you do prefer dating ugly men.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“Look.” Ava scrubbed a hand across her eyes as irritation and amusement waged a quick and bloody battle. “I thought I made myself clear before, but apparently you’re a bit thickheaded. This whole you and me thing? It is so not going to happen.”
“Uh-huh. You keep right on thinking that.”
Amusement went down like a lamb. “Okay, just so you know, there’s a very fine line between persistent and downright annoying. After annoying comes creepy, and then we venture off into the murky waters of stalker territory. Being a prosecutor…” Damn it. “I would think you would realize that.”
Jordan hit a button on the remote to unlock his car. Then he opened the passenger door for Ava and waited for her to get in.
When she just stood there he let out a little sigh. “Last time I checked, offering a woman a ride wasn’t a criminal offense. Call a cab if you want, but it seems silly when I have my car right here.”
Ava shook her head, disgusted with herself for any number of reasons, and disgusted with him for putting her in the position of either acting like a shrew or capitulating to his inconsiderate use of logic. “Fine.” She stalked forward, shook off his solicitous grasp on her elbow, and plopped into the seat with little grace.
When he joined her in the car, she clicked her seatbelt into place. “But just so you know, my accepting a ride from you doesn’t give you the right to expect anything else.”
Jordan backed out of the parking space and cast a glance at her over his shoulder. “Are you this prickly with everyone or is it just me?”
“I’m prickly, rude and short tempered by nature. I can’t imagine why you would want to bother with me.”
“You mean aside from the fact that you’re intelligent, interesting and my head does a full three hundred and sixty degree turn whenever I get within thirty feet of you?” Dimples flashed, a vortex of charm, and Ava felt herself being sucked in. “I guess I enjoy a challenge. And my dog seems to like you.”
“Trust me,” she said, hating herself, hating the situation. “You don’t want to get involved.” There, at least, was some truth. If he knew who and what she was, he’d either attempt to indict her or run screaming in the opposite direction.
“I’m going to have to disagree with you. Because I apparently have a thing for prickly, rude, short tempered women. You should wear red every day.” He reached out, ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “It suits you. All fire and heat.”
Ava cursed the tight little ball of lust which rolled into her belly. “You’re like a damn Sheltie,” she muttered.
“A Sheltie?” Jordan asked with amusement. “How, exactly, do I remind you of a Sh
eltie?”
“You’re all cute and playful, and though you look pretty easygoing, you’re really not. You just nudge, nose, circle around and herd your quarry until you’ve got them boxed into whatever corner you’ve chosen. The damn sheep doesn’t even realize what’s happening until it’s all over and done with.”
Jordan laughed out loud. “I’m not sure which one of us should be more insulted by that analogy, but I guess you’re right. Herding is one of my more impressive but lesser known skills. I tend to work with, through or around things until I get my way.”
Ava was about to offer her opinion on what he could do with his way when a flash of black caught her eye. A quick glance at the side-view mirror had the blood draining from her face. The T-Bird was behind them.
Nausea rolled like oil over the alcohol in her belly.
Noting the direction of her gaze, Jordan glanced in the rearview mirror. “Is something wrong?”
“What? Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong.” She forced her voice to sound normal. She’d learned a long time ago to control outward manifestations of fear. “Nice car, by the way.” She cast her gaze around, remembering that he’d been worried about his new vehicle after she’d pulled him out of the trunk. “Charger, right? One of your classic American muscle cars. She accelerates like a dream.” Ava ran her fingertips down the black leather seat in appreciation. “This the Hemi?”
“Right.” He looked surprised. “You obviously know your way around cars.”
“Uh-huh. One of my more impressive yet lesser known skills. So how does it corner?”
“What? It, uh, it corners… great.”
“Good. Why don’t you show me?” At the next intersection, Ava grabbed the wheel and yanked it to the right.
“Are you crazy?” Jordan slapped her hand off the steering wheel, correcting the angle of the turn so that they didn’t plow into the sidewalk. A group of wide-eyed tourists goggled as they careened past.
“Yep. Crazy.” Ava looked over her shoulder, and saw that the T-Bird continued to go straight. Her breath whooshed out with relief. Maybe it had simply been a coincidence. Maybe it had been a different T-Bird.
Maybe pigs would fly.
She flicked a glance at Jordan, who was looking less than amused. Good. Let him think she was nuts. “Like I told you. You don’t want to get involved.”
JORDAN narrowed his eyes as she settled more comfortably into the seat. Wild and exotic in that red dress, dark hair rioting against her shoulders, she did indeed look like the sort of woman that could cause considerable trouble. The type of woman, he thought grimly, who’d nearly caused him to crash his new car. Under normal circumstances, that was enough to have him running the other way.
Hadn’t he ditched the attractive redhead when she’d walked into court in a raincoat? Hadn’t he fought off Leslie Fitzsimmons when she was on him like white on rice?
Hell, what was it with him and crazy women?
But he’d seen the look on Ava’s face when that black Ford had come up behind them. She’d been spooked. And the flighty routine simply didn’t mesh with the competent professional who’d taken care of his dog.
Instead of scaring him off, she’d only piqued his curiosity.
“I’m not that easily discouraged, sweetheart.” They pulled onto the street where her clinic was located, and he noticed that she took another glance around.
Something, or someone, clearly had her worried.
After she’d thoroughly scanned the parking lot, she offered a sheepish smile. “Thanks for the ride. Really. And I’m sorry about the theatrics earlier.” She paused, took a breath. “You seem like a really nice guy.”
“Thanks.” Jordan all but bolted out of the car and went around to open her door. Being called a “nice guy” was part one of How to Let a Man Down in Two Easy Steps, and despite the fact that Ava Martinez may or may not be crazy, he wasn’t about to let her get to part two: the ego-shredding “but…”
But I really just want to be friends. But I’m not looking for a relationship at the moment.
Both were just variations of “kiss off.”
Whatever she was about to say, he didn’t want to hear it.
He offered his hand, and as she stepped from the car into the swirl of evening mist that danced about their ankles, he thought of a siren rising from the sea. Dazzled, he almost forgot his game plan until she awkwardly said “Goodnight.”
“Do you have any water?”
“What?”
“Water,” Jordan repeated. “Do you have any inside?”
“Is that some kind of variation of aren’t you going to invite me in for a drink?”
Jordan’s smile was all innocence. “Clever, but no. I really just need to get some water.” He cast her wilted pansies a sympathetic glance. The purple and yellow blossoms hung listlessly from drooping stems.
“Um. Sure. There are some bottles in the fridge.” She opened the front door, relocking it once they were inside. After another wary glance at the parking lot, she led Jordan toward the back.
“Ava, darling, is that you?”
Ava halted mid-stride, then cursed under her breath. “Yeah, it’s me, Lou Ellen.” She hesitated, then with a bright, bright smile, turned back toward Jordan. “Um… Give me just a minute, would you?”
“Sure,” Jordan replied easily. And wondered who she thought she was kidding.
AVA walked off toward post-op, leaving Jordan loitering in the hall, and the sight which greeted her as she strode into the room would have caused a lesser woman’s jaw to drop. Lou Ellen sat on the table with the semi-conscious dog’s head on her lap, a shotgun propped near her feet and a suspicious looking flask at her lips. Having known Lou Ellen long enough that nothing she did surprised her, Ava took it all in with good natured resignation. “Were you expecting him to give you trouble, Lou Ellen?”
“Honey, this big fella’s a pushover.” She let the dog’s silky black ear, which she’d been stroking, slide out of her fingers. “I’ve almost reconsidered my position on the species. The trouble I expect is from an entirely different source… Oh. Hello.” She stopped her explanation as her gaze drifted over Ava’s shoulder.
Ava didn’t have to turn around to know that Jordan hadn’t stayed where she’d put him. He ambled forward, plastered himself against her back and peered over her shoulder.
“Wow. That dog’s big, but the shotgun looks like it could take down an elephant. Is that how you subdue all your patients?”
Ava sighed. As if this night weren’t bad enough. “Lou Ellen, this is Jordan Wellington.” Her eyes met Lou Ellen’s in a silent plea for her to behave herself. “Jordan, this is my landlord, Lou Ellen Calhoun.”
Jordan skirted around Ava. “Landlord, huh? My last landlord was an eighty year old man with a bad toupee and a penchant for polka. Where did I go wrong?” He lifted Lou Ellen’s fingers to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Well aren’t you a smooth one?” Lou Ellen slid an approving glance from head to well-shod toe. “And good-looking, too. Women must stick to you like flies in ointment.”
“They land.” Jordan grinned. “But they don’t stick.”
“Slippery, are you?”
“Only when I’m wet.”
Ava rolled her eyes amidst Lou Ellen’s delighted laughter. This was so not what she needed. “Did you still want some water?” she asked Jordan, hoping to hurry him along before Lou Ellen decided to keep him. “The fridge is that way.” She pointed out the door.
“Actually, I need a bucket.”
“A bucket. You need a bucket of water.”
“Umm-hmm.” He walked toward her again, stood closer than was strictly necessary. “Do you have one?”
“A bucket.”
“Small, roughly cylindrical. Holds fluids.”
“In the hall closet, wise guy. The question is why do you need it?”
“It’s for your flowers.”
“My flowers.”
“Sweetheart, you mig
ht save dogs,” he tapped her nose “but you’re murder on pansies.”
Bemused, Ava watched him saunter away, then turned to meet Lou Ellen’s knowing look.
“Hubba hubba.”
“Oh, stop it,” she hissed, quietly closing the door behind her. “There is no hubba hubba allowed. I’ve implemented a moratorium. Lou, that’s the man from the trunk.”
“Well that’s interesting.” Lou Ellen took another sip from her flask. “I thought you turned him down.”
“I did turn him down,” she whispered. “But then Katie’s friend is married to his brother, and tried to set them up, but it all got turned around when he saw me and … don’t you dare say anything about fate.” Ava pointed an accusatory finger when Lou Ellen turned smug. “Aside from the fact that I keep waiting for him to have a sudden epiphany and recall where he first made my acquaintance, I found out tonight that the man’s an assistant district attorney. A prosecutor, for God’s sake.” She sent an anxious glance over her shoulder.
Lou Ellen burst out laughing. The dog opened glazed eyes, and Ava hushed her before soothing her charge.
“Sorry.” The older woman gently extricated herself from the groggy canine, hopping from the table with the grace of a dancer. Then she unobtrusively slipped the flask into the pocket of her virulent purple dress. “I guess you’re too close to the situation to appreciate fate’s fine sense of humor.”
“Okay, enough already. We don’t have a lot of time, and right now I’m more interested in hearing why you felt the need to barricade yourself in here with a gun.”
Lou Ellen’s finely stenciled brows knit together as she picked up the Winchester. “Let’s just say I’m not a fan of uninvited guests.”
Ava had a sinking feeling that she knew what Lou Ellen was talking about. “The goon in the T-Bird?”
“That’s the one.”
“Shit,” Ava said, abandoning all hope that seeing him tonight had been a coincidence. “What happened?”
“About ten minutes after you and Katie left, the little yapper you have out back in the kennel started to put up a real din. Naturally, being cognizant of my responsibilities, I went out to investigate the cause of the distress.”
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