“Now I’m writing the songs I love again. I can’t ask for anything more. I don’t need anything more.”
She believed that, Evan realized. She really believed she could insulate herself from the joys and jagged sorrows that constituted life. She’d wrapped herself in isolation and called it peace.
“You don’t think there might be a middle ground between Paradise and the hell you went through?” he asked gently.
“If there is, I’m not looking for it.”
He didn’t miss the defensive note that crept into her voice. He should have backed off then. Left her to her dry, desert sanctuary. He might have done just that if her edgy sense of unease hadn’t infected him, too.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that her days of solitude were numbered. The hungry reporter Evan had chased off wouldn’t give up. If Dave Hawthorne didn’t find the fallen star, another one like him would. She was too good a story to give up on.
“It’s a shaky proposition, putting your life on hold the way you have.”
“I haven’t put it on hold,” she said with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “I’m happy right where I am, doing exactly what I’m doing.”
“Don’t you get hungry for someone to talk to or laugh with? Someone who’ll get you out of that trailer and into town for a movie or a root beer freeze once in a while?”
“I’ve got Charlie and Josephine to talk to, and I don’t need a steady diet of movies or root beer freezes.”
She’d gone all prickly on him again. Evan couldn’t resist the challenge of trying to get past those sharp little spikes.
“Tell me the last time you slurped down a freeze before today.”
“It’s been…” She flapped a hand in annoyance. “A while.”
“How long, Lissa? A month? Six months?”
“For heaven’s sake, I don’t know. What business is it of yours, anyway?”
“I’m just trying to gauge my chances of collecting that Saturday Night Special.”
“What!”
“I know it’s only Saturday afternoon,” he said, grinning at her dumbfounded expression. “But if it’s been six months or more since you shared a soda with anyone except Josephine or Charlie, it’s probably been about that long since you shared a kiss. I might just get lucky here.”
Her mouth sagged. Laughing, Evan leaned forward to curl a knuckle under her chin. He nudged her jaw up, delighting in the flush that heated the skin under his fingers.
“Well?” he teased.
No way Lissa was going to admit her long, dry spell when it came to kisses stretched back almost to the dawn of the nuclear age. Or that his chances of getting lucky increased exponentially every second he grinned down at her with that outrageous, blatantly male glint in his eyes.
Evidently she didn’t have to admit anything. Evan must have read the answer in the mulish set to her mouth. Pure devilment danced in his eyes. He leaned closer, until his lips were a whisper from hers.
“What do you say, Lissa? Want to go for it? Mouths open? Teeth knocking?”
She couldn’t breathe. The heat suffocated her. The heat, and his confounded nearness. He interpreted her choked silence as consent. Lissa didn’t lie to herself. That’s just how she’d hoped he’d interpret it.
“Open your mouth, sweetheart. Just a little.”
The huskiness in his voice surprised her. Him, too, if the sudden quirk in his brow was any indication. She expected him to draw back then. When he didn’t, her heart leapfrogged straight into her throat.
“That’s it,” he murmured, bending to brush his mouth across hers. “Just like that.”
She didn’t know her lips had parted. Had no idea her breath was racing in and out until he stopped it with his own.
One kiss, she thought. A few seconds of light contact. That’s all it was. All she’d allow it to be.
She hadn’t figured he would nudge her chin up another notch and fit his mouth more firmly over hers. That added ten or fifteen seconds more of pure sensation.
The hand he slid around her waist to draw her against him added a few more.
Then his mouth came down on hers, harder, hotter, and Lissa gave up all attempts at timing the contact, much less controlling it. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Her mouth clung to his. Teeth knocked. Tongues tangled.
She felt, she thought while she could still think at all, like a parched wanderer stumbling down a sand dune toward a lush, tropical oasis. Heady with his scent, hungry for his taste, she sampled every delight. Her fingers curled into the hair at his nape. Her ear picked up the tempo of his breathing, as deep and ragged as her own. Her breasts tingled where they crushed against his chest.
For the life of her, Lissa couldn’t say whether Evan ended the kiss or she did. All she knew was that the laughter had disappeared from his eyes when he lifted his head. His cheeks flushed under their tan, he stared down at her. A wayward strand of his short beaver-brown hair had fallen forward. Lissa ached to reach up, brush it into place with the other crisp strands. Instead she summoned a smile she sincerely hoped wasn’t as wobbly as the darned thing felt.
“Good thing we got that Special out of the way this afternoon…since you’ll be leaving Paradise as soon as we get back.”
She hadn’t framed it as a question, but he answered it anyway. “I have to, Lissa. I’ve got a case going to the Grand Jury next week. A big case.”
Okay. Fine. So what was the big deal here? She’d known from the first moment she’d picked him up that he was just passing through.
“If you plan to make it back to the big city before dark, we’d better get going.”
She started to scramble up, but her feet tangled in her skirt at the same time his hand caught her elbow.
“I’ll run some inquiries next week. Some discreet inquiries,” he added when she arched a brow. “Just to see if anyone besides Hawthorne or his buddy has tried to tag your records or ferret out your address.”
She’d been on her own so long, it was hard to accept help from anyone. Her head dipped in stiff acknowledgment. “Thanks.”
Again, she tried to rise. Again, his warm hand grazed her arm.
“We can’t leave yet.”
Panic fluttered in her stomach. They sure as dickens couldn’t stay here for a repeat of that shattering kiss. She was only human.
“Evan…”
“We haven’t had lunch.”
The breath she’d just sucked in slid right back out. She’d forgotten the soggy paper sack he’d lugged down with the soft drinks.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I am.” He hung a suffering expression on his face. “You’re not going to send me on my way without sustenance, are you?”
Lissa refused…flatly, absolutely refused…to admit that she came perilously close to not wanting to send him on his way at all. Forcing her legs to fold under her, she sank down again.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Burritos.”
He dug a paper-wrapped tube out of the sack. Rust-colored grease dripped through his fingers and splattered on the concrete.
“Ugh. You’re not actually planning to eat that, are you?”
“After Charlie’s armadillo stew, I’m game for just about anything. Here, this one’s yours.”
Laughing, Lissa held up a palm. “No, thanks! I’m still full from Josephine’s egg bake and that root beer freeze. They’re all yours.”
The abandoned bauxite mine outside Paradise came into view at ten past three. Lissa knew the time because she snuck a glance at the no-nonsense black sports watch strapped to Evan’s wrist.
Plenty of time for him to make it to Yuma and then on to San Diego before dark. Not that she was worried about him. She just didn’t like the idea of a motorcycle whizzing along the interstate at sixty-plus miles an hour, its single taillight lost in the blur of the vehicle traffic that traveled the busy highway.
It didn’t even occur to her that he might stay over at Josephine’s another night. He had to get back to his wo
rk. She had to get back to hers. Yet Lissa couldn’t remember the last time she’d driven into Paradise with such mixed emotions. Somehow, her little sanctuary seemed less welcoming and more desolate.
“I’ll call you.”
His quiet promise drew her gaze from the dilapidated buildings and deserted main street.
“Do you really think you’ll turn up anything with these ‘discreet’ inquires?”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I’ll call you in any case.”
She nodded, thoroughly uncomfortable with the little shiver of pleasure she derived from the prospect of hearing his voice one more time. She had the rebellious quiver under firm control by the time the native stone gas station/bar came into view.
“You’d better drop me off at Charlie’s,” Evan said. “I’ll check to make sure the bike is ready before I… Oh, hell.”
He stiffened suddenly. Lissa shot him a curious glance, then followed his intent stare through the cracked windshield to the cherry-red convertible parked in front of Charlie’s Place. Her hands tightened on the wheel.
“Do you think it’s Hawthorne?”
“No.”
“Maybe he decided to come back in his own car and follow up on his lead.”
“It’s not Hawthorne.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I know who owns that car.”
“Who?”
“A friend.”
Lissa brought the pickup to a stop beside the convertible, wondering at the terse reply. Her confusion cleared a moment later when the screen door banged open.
The woman who emerged wore a short cap of shining black hair, fashionably wrinkled linen shorts and a smile that conveyed both relief and exasperation. Her green eyes zinged to Lissa, then fixed on Evan’s tall form as he swung out of the pickup.
“It’s about time you showed, Henderson! I’ve been waiting in this dump for over an hour.”
“What are you doing here, Carrie?”
“Sharon told me you were stranded. I came to haul your butt back to San Diego.”
“I told her I’d get back when I could.”
“‘Could’ doesn’t cut it, Counselor. Not now.”
Lissa sat pinned to the sticky plastic seat. Even from inside the pickup’s airless cab, she could see the excitement that honed the newcomer’s fine-boned features to sharp edges.
“We finally got the break we’ve been hoping for. The Chula Vista PD busted one of Mendoza’s lieutenants last night on a homicide charge. They caught him with the gun still practically smoking. He wants to cop a plea and testify in exchange for a lesser charge of murder two.”
Obviously electrified by the news, Evan banged the pickup’s door shut and whipped off his sunglasses.
“Which lieutenant?”
“Joey Smallwood.”
The feral smile Evan displayed at the news made Lissa gulp. This was a side of him she hadn’t seen during their brief acquaintance. Right before her eyes, he’d transformed into a hunter. A legal predator trained to go for the jugular and tear it apart. It was a breed she had more than a passing familiarity with.
“If Smallwood spills even a tenth of what I suspect he knows about Mendoza’s operation, we’ve got him!”
“Why do you think I drove all the way out to this godforsaken excuse for a town to get you? Let’s move it, sweet-cakes. We’ve got a star witness waiting for us.”
Sweet-cakes? Lissa’s grip on the wheel tightened another notch.
“I’ll check on the Sportster. It should be ready to roll.”
“Send someone for the bike when you get home,” his friend said impatiently. “We need to drive back together and talk through the questions we’re going to put to Smallwood.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll let Charlie know.” He turned to Lissa, sitting stiff and silent. “Hang loose a sec, will you?”
She released her death grip on the steering wheel and reached for the gearshift. “You need to get going. So do I.”
“Just wait here!”
The growled imperative didn’t sit well with her, but before she could tell the man to hit the road and take his curt orders with him, he’d disappeared inside Charlie’s Place.
Lissa drummed her fingers on the wheel, fighting the urge to shove the truck into gear and drive off. She very much regretted not giving in to the impulse a moment later, when her gaze shifted to the raven-haired woman.
Evan’s partner returned Lissa’s look with a speculative one of her own. Flawlessly made-up and coolly beautiful despite the brutal heat, she took the initiative and crossed to the truck. Lissa had the feeling she would always take the initiative.
“You must be the Good Samaritan who rescued Evan when he went into the ditch yesterday. Thanks for not leaving him in the desert to bake.”
All too conscious of her windblown hair and the gritty sand in the creases of her skin, Lissa shrugged. “I wouldn’t leave anyone stranded like that.”
“Well, I appreciate getting him back in one piece.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The woman’s gaze flicked over her, taking in every dusty detail. If that sweet-cakes bit hadn’t already alerted Lissa to what was coming next, her slow, feline smile would have done the trick.
“Just between us girls,” she purred, “I didn’t wrangle a special detail to work with Henderson on this case solely because of his brilliant mind. Or because he stands a damned good chance of being appointed as the San Diego district’s next D.A. The fact is, he’s as good in bed as he is in court.”
Lissa’s stomach twisted, but she wasn’t about to let a woman who called Charlie’s Place a dump and bragged about her sexual activities in public score points off her.
“Just between us girls,” she replied with syrupy sweetness, “he didn’t say the same about you.”
A tide of red suffused the other woman’s cheeks. She started to say something, thought better of it. Whirling, she stalked to her car.
Lissa sat there, biting her lip. Mrs. McNabb would have been shocked to hear her charge utter such a spiteful remark. Lissa might have been a little shocked herself if anger and disgust hadn’t crowded out every other emotion.
She’d kissed him! She’d perched on that concrete platform and stared up at him like an idiot, mesmerized by those crinkly laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, waiting—praying—for that kiss to happen. When in heaven’s name would she learn!
The bang of the screen door had her gritting her teeth. Evan strode to the truck.
“I’ll call you if I stumble across anything you need to know. Even if I don’t, I’ll call.”
“Don’t bother, sweet-cakes.”
A muscle ticked at the side of his jaw. “I don’t have time to explain Carrie to you right now. I’ll…”
“You don’t owe me any explanations.” She shoved the truck into gear. “Besides, she’s already made it crystal clear how things stand between you two.”
The muscle jumped again. His eyes went flinty but, mercifully, he didn’t make the situation worse by dragging it out. Instead he shoved one of his business cards at her.
“I wrote my home phone number on the back. If that itchy sensation starts crawling over you again, call me, okay? Immediately.”
Three feet of snow would blanket Paradise first! As anxious now to be rid of him as she was furious with herself for those moments at the dam, Lissa snatched the card from his hand.
“Have a fun trip home.”
She left him standing in the dirt outside Charlie’s Place. Before she’d driven half a block, she’d torn the card into a dozen pieces and tossed them through the pickup’s window.
Chapter 9
Evan banged the receiver down and scowled at the multibutton instrument. Dammit, where was she? Why didn’t she answer her phone? He’d been trying off and on to reach her for two days now, ever since he’d received the results of his queries.
His frown sliced deeper as he fingered the manila folde
r he’d marked with a simple Lissa. Compared to most of the files stacked on his desk, this one was relatively thin. It contained only three sketchy computer-generated reports. One summarized the information Sharon had gathered on Melissa James in response to Evan’s initial request. He’d stapled Dave Hawthorne’s card to the report. If the reporter made a nuisance of himself, Evan might just follow through on his threat to ferret out his buddy at the IRS.
The second report gave the status of the Department of Justice’s efforts to locate Jonah Dawes, the man who’d bilked hundreds of Missy Marie’s fans of their savings.
The third report was the one that clenched Evan’s muscles.
Dammit, why didn’t she answer her phone?
Yanking at the knot in his tie, he spun around to stare through the windows behind his desk. One of the few benefits of rising to the top of the assistant D.A. ranks was a corner office. Not that the panoramic view of San Diego’s harbor actually compensated for the killer caseload and seven-day workweeks that came with the seniority. If anything, the sparkling bay and colorful sailboats scudding across the waves only emphasized how infrequently Evan got to enjoy either.
Normally he didn’t mind his grinding schedule. The challenges of his job usually brought their own rewards. Take this afternoon, for example. They’d spent months building the government’s case against Hector Mendoza, and the Grand Jury had needed less than two hours to return an indictment. The bastard now faced ten counts of violating U.S. immigration laws, thirty-two counts of conspiring to violate those laws, eighteen counts of involuntary manslaughter and six counts of drug trafficking.
To Evan’s intense satisfaction, the judge had bound the scuzz over for trial and set bail at a cool two million. It was little enough considering the eighteen men, women and children who’d suffocated to death during a botched attempt to smuggle them across the border in one of Mendoza’s petroleum transport rigs. As icing on the cake, a sweating Joey Smallwood had fingered dozens of cogs in Mendoza’s extensive narcotics smuggling and distribution network. Search and arrest warrants were being served all up and down the coast.
Now the real work would begin in Mendoza’s case. A small army of prosecuting and defense attorneys would slug it out during discovery, file motions and counter motions, and generally try to rip out each others’ throat during the actual trial. And this was only one of the two dozen or so cases Evan had working.
The Harder They Fall (Intimate Moments) Page 9