"When I have time."
"I'd like to watch you sometime." He was interested in her team. But he was more interested in Raine. Who she was. What motivated her. And what she was doing in front of that house at three AM.
No. he wasn't going to fool himself. Yeah, he wanted to know what she'd been doing on LeMoyne last night – his gut told him she wasn't as innocent as she claimed to be – but that was a small part of it. She fascinated him. It had been a long time since a woman captured his imagination the way she had.
She was strong. Smart. Self-confident. Controlled.
He wanted to know what made her lose that control.
Yeah, he was interested in more than her jogging habits.
His gaze drifted to her white shirt. The top two buttons were undone. Perfectly respectable. But when she leaned toward him when she spoke, he could see cleavage. The beginning of a shadowed valley he wanted to explore.
As he let his gaze drift lower, she shifted on her seat and her hard nipples pressed against her shirt for a moment.
She straightened immediately, but he'd noticed.
Maybe she was as interested as he was.
And he was interested. It had been a long time since he'd fallen into instant lust with a woman. It had started the moment he'd spotted her in that gym yesterday and only gotten stronger the more time he spent with her.
He wasn't looking for a relationship, and from what Jennings said, Raine wasn't, either. But they could have a lot of fun together without getting all serious and deep.
His cock disagreed. It thought deep was a great idea.
Maybe she did, too. Her pupils had dilated, the green reduced to a tiny rim. He swallowed, suddenly uncomfortably hard.
"Why don't you date cops?" he blurted. God! He was usually smoother than that.
She squirmed a little, and he wondered if she was uncomfortable for the same reasons he was. She cleared her throat. "I have a professional relationship with the officers from your precinct," she said. "I don't want things to get messy or uncomfortable."
"No deep-seated aversion to police officers?"
"Not at all."
She'd paused for a tiny moment before she answered, and he wondered why. "So are you open to amending your policy?"
Her gaze flew to his, then narrowed. "I assume you're asking because you're interested. But dating a suspect? That seems like a conflict of interest."
"I don't suspect you of anything, Raine." Other than not being completely open.
"Then why the third degree?"
"I found loose ends. I like to tie them up."
"Sometimes, coincidences are just that."
In this case, he was betting they weren't. But he had no proof of anything. So he said, "Maybe so. Cops are a suspicious bunch."
"And I'm a careful woman. So I'll take a pass."
He took a sip of coffee, and her gaze lingered on his mouth as he set down his mug. Yeah, she was interested, too.
"I'd like to get to know you," he said.
"I don't have a lot of free time."
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
She moved the napkin-wrapped silverware around on the Formica table top. "I'm participating in a match tomorrow."
"Where at?"
"It's a long way."
"Good thing I have the day off, then."
He waited for her to answer. When she didn't, he said, "You know I can Google it, right? Tae kwon do matches in Illinois. There can't be too many of them. So give me a radius. Fifty miles from Chicago? A hundred?"
She scowled. "You expect me to tell you? Fat chance of that."
"Doesn't matter. I'll find it." He leaned a little closer to her. "Maybe I'll bring that black hoodie with me."
"You do that. If you can figure out where it is."
He smiled. "I love challenges."
"Great. Have at it." She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and slid out of the booth. "Thanks for the tea, Detective."
"It's Connor."
She walked out the door without looking back.
Chapter 4
Connor pressed the button. A complicated chime rang inside Peter Northrup's house. Fancy doorbell.
Matched the fancy house.
Lannon stone fronted the house, and the sides were red brick. Impersonal landscaping tiered along the front of the house. Spring flowers planted in geometric rows bloomed next to an artfully placed Japanese maple in the corner, and roses edged the sidewalk. All the plants neat and tidy, not a weed in sight. Tall hedges separated the house from the bungalow next door, as if Northrup was trying to hide that modest home from view.
Everything about Northrup's house screamed 'I have money'.
Based on Raine's non-answers to his questions, she knew this guy. A stab of jealousy, sharp and unexpected, sliced into his gut.
The tap of a shoe on a hard floor echoed from inside, followed by the whine of a high-pitched voice, quickly silenced. A low rumble of indistinguishable words followed. Connor jabbed the doorbell again, twice.
Finally a tall, muscular man opened the door. Blond hair hung over his forehead, finger-combed into unruliness. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned and fit arms.
He scowled at Connor. "Can I help you?"
"You Peter Northrup?" He was pretty sure this was the guy, but he needed to have it confirmed.
"Who's asking?"
Connor held up his detective's shield. "Detective Donovan, Chicago Police Department. You called in a prowler two nights ago. I'm here to follow up."
The man's scowl smoothed out. "Detective. Thanks for coming by." He glanced over his shoulder. "Come in."
Connor stepped into the foyer and looked around for whoever else was in the house. Northrup's mussed hair and unbuttoned shirt shouted 'lover'. But no one stepped forward.
Interesting. Connor's heart rate picked up. When police came to the door, people wanted to know what was going on. They clustered in the front hall, crowding around the cop.
The ones who hid usually had a reason for not showing their faces.
He smoothed his right hand down his jacket, lingering for a moment over the gun holstered beneath his arm. But the house was still.
The furnishings of Northrup's house had a sleek, modern look, with dark hardwood floors and white walls. The furniture in the room adjoining the entrance was black and white with slashes of red accents, and abstract art hung on the walls. The place looked like a display in a glossy-paged magazine rather than a home where someone actually lived.
Still no sign of the other person in the silent house. So Connor pulled a notebook out of his pocket. "What can you tell me about the prowler the other night?"
Northrup shrugged. "It was dark. I couldn't see him clearly. I think it was a kid – short and skinny. Or maybe a woman. She stood in the shadow of the tree on the parkway for a long time. I called the police after about fifteen minutes."
"Did this person approach your house?"
"No. Just stood there."
"He or she didn't look in any windows? Try the doors?"
"No. Not that I could tell."
"So why did you think it was a prowler?"
Northrup slid his gaze to the left. "It was three in the morning. Who else would be standing in front of my house?"
"Hmmm." Connor scribbled gibberish in his notebook. Why had Raine been there? Because it had to be her. If she'd really been jogging at that hour of the morning, and seen someone else, she would have said so.
"How did you happen to notice the person? Most people are asleep at that hour."
Northrup's eyes darted toward the living room. "I couldn't sleep. I was wandering around the house and happened to look out a window."
"Have you seen this person before?"
Northrup hesitated a beat too long. "I'm not sure, since I couldn't see her face. But there's been someone else in front of my house several times. That's why I noticed him."
"Same person?"
"
Probably. Same size and shape."
"Have you called 911 before?"
"A few times. The police come by, but no one's ever seen her."
Connor studied Northrup. The blond man had shoved his hands into his pockets, and Connor noticed him clenching and unclenching his fists. "Do you have any idea who it might be?"
A muscle in the other man’s jaw twitched as he looked over Connor's shoulder. He shook his head. "No idea."
Northrup was lying. He knew who was outside his window. Which meant he knew Raine. Connor watched him more closely. "Anyone with a grudge against you? An abnormal interest in you?"
Northrup hesitated. Swallowed. "I was widowed six months ago," he finally said. "There was some publicity." He smirked for a half-second, then composed his face into a more appropriate sorrow. "People – women – can get obsessed about men involved in crimes. Especially wealthy men."
"Why was there publicity about your spouse's death?" Connor wanted Northrup's take.
"She was killed in a mugging. In an alley outside a club." He shrugged one shoulder. "It was in the papers because I'm well-known in the business community."
"What do you do for a living?"
"I'm an investment banker."
"Did they catch the person who killed your spouse?"
"No. Her body was found sprawled against a dumpster."
Interesting response to a question about the killer. He waited a moment, but Northrup didn't offer anything else. His gaze was cautious. Probing. Assessing.
There was no grief, though. Connor wondered why.
Some people were good at hiding their emotions. But talking about a wife who'd been killed only six months earlier? He'd expect to see some pain. Some sadness.
Northrup showed him nothing.
It made him wonder why. Made him study the man more closely. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Northrup."
The guy nodded. "Thank you, Detective."
Still nothing. Curious. "I'll have the patrol cars come down your street more frequently. See if we find anyone near your house."
Northrup straightened. His eyes glittered. "I'd appreciate that, Detective." He held out his hand, and gripped Connor's hard.
"No problem, sir." He studied Northrup for a moment longer, then tapped his notebook into his pocket. "Make sure you call 911 next time you see someone outside your house."
"I'll do that."
Connor nodded and turned to go, taking a last look over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of long, bright red hair in the living room as the door closed behind him.
A woman. So Northrup was dating and didn't want the police to know.
Connor walked slowly down the steps. Something was off. Northrup had said all the right things, but the lack of reaction to his wife's death was striking.
So was the gleam of anticipation in his eyes when Connor mentioned the increased patrols on his street.
Peter Northrup was a rich man. A little arrogant. No crime there.
But Connor's BS meter was clanging wildly – there was some connection between Northrup and Raine. A friend of his wife? Her cousin? Her sister? It would take more digging, but he'd find out what it was.
Why was she stalking Northrup? Did she blame him for the wife's death?
He'd talk to the detectives who'd handled the case.
In the meantime, he'd keep a close eye on Raine.
His cock thought that was a great idea.
He'd start tomorrow. How hard could it be to find a tae kwon do match in the Chicago area?
***
Raine sat cross-legged in the corner of a Naperville Park District building, her eyes closed, focusing on preparation for her first match. She hadn't been to a meet for months, but it was time to get ready. To prepare to face off with Peter.
He'd called the police again last night. He'd known she was out there. Watching him. Waiting.
Peter was a man controlled by his impulses, and it wouldn't take much to make him lose control. When he came after her, she needed to be strong. Confident. Accurate.
Cold air crept up the legs of her dobok, and without opening her eyes, she tucked the material closer. The meet was in a building that looked like an old barn and was just as drafty. But that was okay. When the room was full of hot, sweaty men and women, the cool air would be refreshing.
The door to the large room clunked as it slammed shut, and she opened her eyes to see who'd come in. Another competitor. Damn it! And damn Connor Donovan for wrecking her concentration this morning.
Not just this morning. She'd slept restlessly again last night, and the blue-eyed, smiling detective had been a big reason why. He'd teased her about showing up at the meet, and she'd been both worried he'd show up and afraid that he wouldn't.
Getting involved with the cop who'd chased her away from Peter's house would be disastrous.
But her body clearly hadn't gotten the message.
Her body was an idiot.
She reached into her bag and shoved ear buds into her ears, then turned on the music app on her phone. She needed to calm down. De-stress. Focus on her first opponent.
In the first round, they'd put her up against a woman she'd fought before. Anna was good. Quick and focused. Raine was rusty, and she wouldn't beat Anna unless she got Connor Donovan out of her head. So she closed her eyes, turned up Deva Premal on her phone and blocked out the rest of the world.
When she saw the referee on her mat signaling for the first match, she turned off her phone and tossed it and the ear buds into her bag. She stood up, stretched one last time, then headed toward the mat.
She stumbled when she spotted Connor standing next to the door, watching her.
No. Not Connor. Donovan. Connor was the man with the bedroom eyes who made her yearn for things she couldn't have. Donovan was the cop who watched her with a cool, assessing gaze. The cop who had put together too many pieces of the puzzle already.
Safer to think of him as Donovan.
Straightening her spine, she turned toward the mat, trying to ignore him. His gaze burned into her back, but she didn't turn around.
As she stepped onto the cool plastic surface, she glanced over her shoulder. He was moving toward her. Still staring at her.
She couldn't read him.
She watched for another moment, then turned and bowed to the ref. She squared her shoulders, trying to focus on her opponent. Anna stood in front of her, rolling her shoulders, her attention completely on Raine.
Just like Raine's should be on Anna. But a big part of Raine's mind was on Donovan. How had he found her? And why had he come?
She didn't believe his line about learning more about tae kwon do.
He would have reached the edge of the mat by now. He'd be standing next to the other spectators. Too close to her.
As she bowed to Anna, she sneaked a glance in his direction. Big mistake. Anna nailed her with a kick to her chest. Raine struggled to regain her focus, but she was a step out of sync and Anna landed two more blows.
Raine took a deep breath, then another as she circled her opponent. She would not lose a match because was all fluttery about Connor Donovan. No. Not fluttery. Worried. She was worried about what he knew. What he might do about it.
She needed to concentrate on her match. On honing the skills she'd neglected for the past six months. She'd learned long ago how to box out her feelings, how to focus on the moment. Anna was preparing to take her down. She couldn't let that happen.
Anna didn't handle side kicks very well. Raine flew at her opponent and landed a solid blow. Another. When the bell rang to end the match, she was winded and sweaty. But she'd won.
She bowed to the referee, then her opponent, and walked off the mat with Anna. After congratulating Anna on a tough match, she retreated to the corner she'd staked out.
Donovan was a magnet behind her, pulling her in his direction. Her shoulders twitched with the need to turn toward him, but she gathered every ounce of her willpower and ignored it.
Her h
and trembled as she grabbed a towel from her bag and wiped her face. When she lifted her water bottle, liquid sloshed out and dampened her jacket.
"I'm impressed."
She shivered. Told herself it was because she'd gotten her jacket wet. Then she took a deep breath and turned to face him.
"What are you doing here?"
He raised his eyebrows. "I told you I'd figure out where you were."
He was a detective, one who was both determined and good at his job. She would be smart to remember that.
"Maybe the question should have been, why are you here?"
"I came to watch you."
She saw no threat in his blue eyes. Instead, his gaze swept slowly over her, as if memorizing every detail – her hair, her body, the baggy white uniform.
Heat washed over her, and she took another drink of water. Then tossed the bottle into her bag when she realized her hands were still shaking.
Donovan might think he made her nervous.
"Why?
He smiled. "Are you always this blunt?"
"Yes." She stared back at him, waiting for his answer.
"I want to get to know you, Raine. This is part of who you are." They were in a room full of people, and his voice was low. Intimate. Her skin tingled as if he'd touched her.
He was standing too close. Heat rolled off his body, and his elemental scent filled her head. His jaw was dark-shadowed, as if he hadn't shaved this morning. She wanted to brush her hand over his cheek, feel the rasp of his whiskers.
Curling her fingers into her palms, she said, "Do you think you're going to get more information out of me?"
"Do you have more information for me to get?" He raised one eyebrow, and she swallowed hard. Stupid.
"Of course not. I'm wondering why you went to so much trouble to find me."
He dropped his gaze again, studied her calves and ankles. "You're a smart woman. I bet you can figure it out."
He was acting like he'd come for her. Her body wanted to believe he'd worked so hard to find her meet because he was interested in her. Because he was attracted to her.
They'd already established that her body was an idiot.
Before she could respond to Donovan, a voice off to the side said, "Hey, Raine."
Trust Me (The Donovan Family Book 4) Page 4