by JoAnn Ross
“I have a job.”
“One that probably doesn’t cover your shoe budget.”
Since when was appreciating a well-made, beautiful shoe a crime? “I’d rather work than spend my spare time drinking mai tais and polishing seashells,” she said, deciding not to share that escape to exactly such a place was on her to-do list.
“You could always work for your family’s winery.”
“I don’t know anything about running a vineyard. All I do is cosign the checks. Besides,” she added, “the only interest I have in wine is drinking it. I love my job here.”
“Even when it makes enemies of guys like Vasilyev?”
“We’re already enemies. That was decided when I chose to prosecute criminals and Vasilyev chose to be one. Besides, he threatened to have me killed the day of his sentencing, and as you can see, I’m certainly still around.”
“But your former mentor and co-counsel on that case isn’t,” Mitchell pointed out.
A cold shiver skimmed up Tess’s spine. “That was an accident,” she insisted, citing the Coast Guard’s findings.
She didn’t mention that her recent calls coming so soon after her co-prosecutor’s death three months ago was—along with the murder of the Salem deputy district attorney who’d prosecuted another one of the Russian’s gang—the reason the police had gotten a warrant to listen in on her phone calls. “Accidents happen. Even to the best of sailors.” Which Jim Stevens had definitely been.
“Hey,” Alexis broke in, “can’t you two discuss something a little more cheerful? At least until I’ve had my second cup of coffee?”
Mitchell grinned sheepishly and held up both hands. “Sorry.” He turned his attention back to Tess. “I still think you’ve got major cojones. For a girl,” he said before continuing across the room.
Tess and Alexis watched him go. “He meant that as a compliment. I think,” Alexis said finally.
Tess sighed. “I know. It’s just that I really don’t like him.” She shook her head, watching as he stopped yet again to joke with another prosecutor. “He’s rude, sexist, and totally lacking in tact.” He was also slick. No, that wasn’t exactly it. More slimy. If he were a mobster, his name would be Bill “The Slug” Mitchell.
“Speaking of your taste in men,” Alexis said, smoothly turning the conversation back to its original track, “I promise not to mention it again, but I still contend that you and Nate could work out.” Her friend’s eyes had the gleam of an unrepentant matchmaker.
“Really,” she insisted when Tess rolled her eyes. “You don’t believe anything unless you read it in the The Oregonian in black and white. Despite his Marine years at war, including being wounded in an IED explosion, which should have made him cynical, Nate tends to believe in everything until he’s proven wrong.” Alexis’s smile was guileless. “See?”
“The only thing I see is that somehow, when I wasn’t looking, you’ve turned into one of those women who, just because you’ve found happiness with a man, wants to send every woman up a white satin aisle for a life of wedded bliss.”
“Would that be so bad?”
Tess rose abruptly from her desk, brushing scattered doughnut crumbs off her fog-gray pencil skirt. “I don’t believe in marriage.”
“Ah, yes,” Alexis drawled. “How foolish of me. I’d almost forgotten the infamous Lombardi curse.”
“You can laugh all you want.” Tess picked up her briefcase, checking to be sure she had everything she needed for a long day in court. “But the fact remains that no Lombardi woman, from Isabella on, has managed to live happily ever after, including me. Captain MacGrath, bastard that he was, saw to that.”
“How in the world can you continue to insist that you and Nate aren’t a match made in heaven when you say things like that?” Alexis argued doggedly. “He’s one of the few people I know on this earth who might actually buy that outlandish tale of the captain’s curse.”
Tess knew Alexis was right. She also knew it was totally uncharacteristic of her to give the story, which had become legend in the Lombardi family, any credence. But try as she might to discount it, she couldn’t deny that, beginning with her great-great-grandmother Isabella, every single one of the Lombardi women had proven disastrously unlucky in love.
“Look,” she said. “I’m happy for you and Matt. Truly I am. And if I ever run across a man as perfect for me as he is for you, I might even take another chance on reaching for that brass ring. But believe me, Nate Breslin is not that man.”
“That’s your opinion, but you haven’t even given yourself a chance to get to know him yet.”
“I don’t want to get to know him. Besides, when it comes to my love life, my opinion is the only one that matters.” Giving her friend a warning look, Tess turned to leave the office.
“I’m still putting my money on Nate,” Alexis said. “In fact, I’m looking forward to watching him wear down your resistance.”
“Don’t bother; you’d only be wasting your time. Now if we’re through discussing my love life…”
“Or lack of,” Alexis got in the final word as Tess walked away.
* * *
As she left the courtroom at the end of her day, Tess found Nate waiting for her again.
“You were brilliant,” he told her. “If I were the D.A., I’d be worried about my job.”
Tess shook her head. “I’d never want to be district attorney. The profile’s too high.”
“And we’ve already determined that you’re a lady who protects her privacy.”
Tess nodded. “Got it. And as much as I’d love to stand here and chat, I have to get back to my office.”
Why was she not surprised he had no intention of letting her get away that easily? “How about having dinner with me when you get off?”
“I’m sorry, but I have plans.” She didn’t add that she intended to spend the evening wading through mountains of depositions in preparation for the Schiff case.
“Why do I get the feeling that you’d have plans for whatever evening I suggested?”
“Probably because, while you may be mentally disturbed, you’re perceptive,” she answered without missing a beat.
“Why don’t you try humoring me?”
“What did you think I was doing yesterday?”
“Having lunch with a man who hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind.” He crossed his ankles, leaned against the wall, folded his arms, and looked down at her.
It took a major effort to keep from drowning in those languorous bedroom eyes Alexis had mentioned. “Try harder. Meanwhile, I have cases to prepare for.”
Abruptly turning her back, she marched out of the building, her Kate Spade toe-cap heels tapping on the marble floor. Tess did not look back. But she could feel Nate watching her as she made her way down the steps.
14
“So,” Nate said, as he dunked a fried clam strip into Bon Temps’ signature twelve-alarm sauce, “it’s obvious Tess Lombardi doesn’t want me in her life. At. All. But is a guy supposed to just stand by and do nothing when a woman he’s interested in is getting threatening phone calls?”
“If you tell Kara I said this, I’ll deny it to my dying day.” Sax Douchett put a frosted mug of beer in front of Nate. “But sometimes even the strongest women need backup. I’d track down the bastard and rip out his lung.”
“So much for that overrated reputation you SEALs have as assassins,” J.T., Sax’s brother, who was sitting next to Nate at the bar, said. “Any Marine would rip the asshole’s head off and piss down his neck.”
“Did I mention I’d feed the ripped-out bloody lung to wild dogs and coyotes?” Sax asked.
“Still not as effective,” Nate decided. “Speaking as a Marine.” He took a long drink of the deep amber Dead Guy Ale. “Problem is, the solution would probably be counterproductive. Given that Tess would undoubtedly never speak to me again.”
“There is that,” J.T. admitted before biting into a grilled rock cod po’ boy garnished
with pickled slaw. “Sometimes civilization can be a real bitch.”
“After Kara was attacked and ended up in the ER, I wanted to beat the bastard to a bloody pulp. Until the only thing left of him was a big blotch of shit on the road,” Sax said. “But Kara convinced me that if I went warrior on her, I’d screw up her arrest. So, only for her sake, and not wanting the guy to go free on some lame-ass technicality, I resisted.”
“And what did you do once she wasn’t around?” Nate asked knowingly. Then made the mistake of taking a larger bite of sauce-laden clam.
When a challenging glint immediately lit up Sax’s eyes, Nate Marine-upped and resisted the urge to gulp down the beer to cool his tongue. Everyone in Shelter Bay knew that Sax always dumped a triple dose of heat into his twelve-alarm sauce for pals as some sort of whacked-out test of manhood. A test Nate refused to fail. His taste buds might be going up in flames, but damned if he’d lose his balls.
“I came back here to Bon Temps and did some redecorating,” Sax said.
“If you check out the office behind the bar, you can still see where the fist holes in the wall have been spackled,” J.T. said.
On cue, the door opened, letting in the scent of fir and salt-tinged air and Sheriff Kara Douchett.
“If it isn’t the most beautiful female in Shelter Bay,” Sax said, his face lighting up like a beacon as he went out from behind the bar to embrace his wife in a bear hug.
Without the least bit of self-consciousness, despite the fact that she was wearing her uniform, which suggested she was on duty, he gave her a deep, long kiss. After all their years together, they still acted like newlyweds, and although Sax wasn’t one to kiss and tell, from the satisfied look he always wore, Nate figured the former SEAL’s home life wasn’t lacking in the sex department.
“We were just talking about you,” Sax said when the two finally came up for air.
“And what were you saying?” she asked as she untwined her arms from around his neck.
“That I’m the luckiest—and smartest—guy on the planet for having first chosen, then won, such a perfect, intelligent, delectable wife.”
“It’s not many men who can blend flattery and conceit so deftly,” she said on a laugh. “Your mom called to ask if the kids could have a sleepover at your parents’, so I’m dropping by to see if you wanted to take off early. Maybe, if we put our heads together, the most intelligent wife in Shelter Bay and her hot husband can figure out some way to occupy a lonely, child-free night.”
“You’re on.” Sax turned to Cody, his partner, who’d just come in from the back room with a carton of beer. “Can you handle tonight?”
“Sure. Hey, Kara,” Cody said with a wide western smile that hinted at his southern Oregon cowboy roots. “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too,” she replied. “Thanks for letting me spring my husband early.”
“No problem. Thursdays are typically slow, and Sax hiring one of those Haven House ladies who graduated from Chef Maddy’s cooking class has really eased any rush we might get.”
While Sax went into the kitchen to pack up a dinner to take home, an idea popped into Nate’s head.
“I heard you’re doing some work on that bigamist case,” he said conversationally.
She shrugged. “Mostly I’m just holding Dana White’s hand. Tess Lombardi is doing all the heavy lifting.”
“I was watching her in court today. Seems she’s juggling a lot of flaming balls.”
“Seems so,” Kara said. Nate could tell her cop instincts had clicked in when she folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I guess you were up there researching a book?”
“Researching a story,” he said, opting for a half-truth. Which, from the way her gaze turned flinty, he suspected she wasn’t entirely buying. Sax wasn’t exaggerating about her intelligence. “I met her the other night and will admit to being interested.”
“Ah.” The vigilant cop eased, giving way to an intrigued woman. “I guess it must get lonely living out there on the point, all by yourself in that big house.”
“It can.” No way was Nate going to mention the captain. “Being a writer, I’m comfortable with solitude. But sometimes it’s nice to have someone other than fictional characters to talk with.”
“I imagine so.”
A silence settled over them. What the hell was taking Sax so long? Nate had a feeling Sheriff Kara Douchett could outwait him all night.
“I guess she wouldn’t have much time to cook for herself,” Nate suggested, surrendering the silent standoff.
“She mentioned being great at making reservations,” Kara allowed.
“Would you happen to know if she likes Cajun food?”
“I know she likes Sax’s. A lot. In fact, I invited her to dinner when she was down here, but, like you pointed out, she’s hammered with work.”
Just when he intended to dig a little deeper, Sax chose that moment to come out of the kitchen with a bag that smelled like the best of New Orleans.
“Let’s get this fais-dodo started,” he said as he put his free arm around his wife’s waist and walked her toward the door. She paused right before they went out into the night and glanced back over her shoulder.
“You can’t lose with the shrimp and crab étouffée and bread pudding.”
Oorah. Nate flashed her his best grin. “The SEAL doesn’t lie. You do, indeed, epitomize perfection.”
“Don’t use your fancy writer words to flirt with my woman,” Sax warned easily.
Kara’s laugh stayed behind as the couple went out into the rain.
15
Tess frowned as she stood in front of her open refrigerator. She had a choice of three frozen diet dinners, none of which looked nearly as appealing as they had when she’d tossed them into her supermarket basket. Deciding to settle for scrambled eggs, she found herself almost wishing she’d taken Breslin up on his offer for dinner. If only for the food.
No, she considered as she cracked the eggs into a bowl with a decided lack of enthusiasm, it was more than an offer of dinner that had her feeling strangely out of sorts this evening. If she were to be perfectly honest, she’d have to admit that her days—as well as her nights—revolved around her caseload. For months she’d been telling herself that once things returned to normal, once the court calendar became less crowded, she, in turn, would resume a full and varied social life.
Unfortunately, she was beginning to have the feeling that, for her, this workaholic lifestyle might actually be the norm.
It hadn’t escaped her attention, when she permitted herself to consider the matter, that the other deputy district attorneys in the office seemed to lead well-rounded, fulfilling lives. Alexis was a prime example, managing to juggle marriage planning and a career, and still fitting in time for lunches with Matt and that ten-day Orchid Island honeymoon they were planning. And even with all that, she acted as a pro bono counsel for several local food-assistance programs.
And she wasn’t alone among the attorneys on staff in having a personal life. Kyle Hillerman played on a city touch football league team. Robert Peters was a classical film buff. After taking tango lessons, Anna Genova had moved on to Chinese cooking classes, Eric Jensen was a longtime horse-racing buff, traveling as far south as San Diego on weekends during the thoroughbred racing season, Kalisha Stone was a deacon at her church, and Bill Mitchell flew to Vegas several weekends a year to play competition poker.
As Tess mentally ticked off the rest of the district attorney’s staff, she realized that each and every one of them had a seemingly enjoyable outside interest.
So what was wrong with her? Reluctantly admitting that Alexis’s accusation about her lifestyle had hit uncomfortably close to home, she vowed to make a change in her life.
Right after the upcoming Schiff trial.
When the doorbell rang, her fingers tightened around the handle of the wire whisk. She hadn’t been expecting anyone this evening. What if her caller had suddenly decided to make hi
s threats in person? Damn. Between her anonymous caller and Nate’s ridiculous ghost stories, she was jumping at her own shadow.
Scooping up her phone, her fingers ready to speed-dial 911, she looked through the peephole in the door and saw an all-too-familiar face.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she flung the door open.
“You said you were working tonight, so when Kara mentioned you weren’t into cooking, I figured I’d bring dinner to you.”
“Now you were talking to Kara Douchett about me? What, are you planning to interrogate every friend I have about my private life?”
“It wasn’t an interrogation. Nor was it a planned conversation. Kara dropped into Bon Temps while I was there for a beer. We got to talking, like friends do, and I mentioned I’d been up here to see you, and we talked a bit about her holding your bigamist case’s victim’s hand and how your crazy-busy caseload kept you from even having time to cook.”
“Maybe I’m just not into cooking,” she said. Which might be true. If she’d had time to try it out, she might discover she disliked it. “And how did that come up during a discussion of my bigamy case?”
“I may have said something about dinner and asked what you liked to eat.”
If Nate Breslin was at all put out by her refusal to invite him in, he was doing an admirable job of hiding it, Tess decided as she steadfastly blocked his entrance to her home.
“And you asked her that why?”
“Because I’m interested in you. And before you accuse me of trying to use you as a source for some book I’m definitely not writing about the captain and your great-great grandmother, I happen to be attracted to you because you’re intelligent, dedicated to your work, have attitude, which shows you’re tougher than you look, and have me thinking of tambourines.”
“Tambourines?”
“Like the ones gypsies play while dancing around a campfire.”